pointe shoes | pjm

02

Sometimes you catch me staring, as if we were the only ones in the room, as if you were the only one in the practice room to look at, my eyes always found your face.

But we weren't, this was the third audition to Juilliard that I had seen you at and every time, students had filled the auditorium eager to perform in front of the judges, their minds filled with the thought this day could make or break my future.

The fact that this is the third time that I had seen you at this annual audition means that you either suck at ballet, or you were just as lazy in routine as I was.

The past two years I had left after my audition which coincidentally had to be right before yours, I never wanted to see you perform but this time it was as if the thought of watching you perform would drag me in like a sweet scent adorned by a fresh baked pie.

I had no idea whether you were good or not, I had no idea who you were, but your presence made me grow stiff, tense, as if you were dangerous.

One by one, students were called toward the stage to present their routine, the name before mine was called, surprisingly I saw you walk up from the side of the stage and introduce yourself to the judges.

You looked ethereal from the first time I saw you those years ago, to the practice room, even to know as soon as you took your first position, you look like beauty.

You were definitely not new, or a late comer, it was as if you had learned the art of ballet before you learned how to walk, just like me. Heck- you were better than some professional dancers I had seen perform in New York.

You slid into all your positions gracefully, leapt across the stage and settled into a pirouette.

Just watching you made me want to get up from my seat and synchronise myself to the old, classical song that played, I wanted to breathe the music like you did effortlessly and then exhale it into the routine.

Throughout the routine I caught myself sitting up in my seat slightly as if I was just about ready to jump off my seat and say something- anything to you once you got off that stage.

"Park Jimin." A petite blonde judge started. "Its always a pleasure to watch you dance." She gave a bright smile to the young boy at centre stage.

Park Jimin. The name fit him so well.

The well dressed boy took centre stage and awaited the other two judges to voice their opinions on his routine

Of course they can't out-right tell you whether you're in or not, its a long process, they decline any dancers that do not fit up to the basic standards, next they slowly pick off dancers with minor faults in their routine.

Barely noticeable really, to any basic viewer, but to me- these judges and everyone here that was practically born into ballet, we can notice the smallest fault in a dancers routine.

The least these judges can do is give you minor feedback, what to look out for, what they did and didn't like, ect.

"From what I can see, you've managed to pick up your right leg better..." One of the judges says.

The look on Jimins face, he keeps it straight even when being complimented by the previous judge, he knew, he knew not to get his hopes up.

He kept a straight face but from where I'm sitting I can just see a glint of guilt and frustration in his eyes as he awaits the rest of the judges thoughts.

"You did really well, better than last year which was a mess, I'm not sure how you can put on a routine like last years and still call yourself a dancer, I wouldn't have shown my face here." He says, taking a breathe.

For a second Jimin looked relieved, a glimmer of hope set in his brown eyes, which then got absorbed by regret at the rest of the judges words.

"But here you are." The judge says, leaning back in his chair biting the tip of his pen as if he's trying to figure Jimin out.

"You'll get your letter concerning your admittance or declination in the next coming weeks, I'm sure you're well aware of the process." The last part was purely a sign of hatred towards the lean boy that was now walking off stage.

Before he left the petite blond judge grabbed him by the arm and whispered into his ear, he looked visually worn out but whatever the woman said, it made him visually relaxed.

"Park! Eden Park" I was so engrossed on figuring out the relation between the two that I hadn't heard my name called out, a girl that had been to the last auditions as well sat next to me, shoving my arm to bring me back to reality.

"You're up." She says, my eyes wander to the star as my nervous legs get up off my chair too quickly, they were about to skip to the next person since it's common to have people chicken out, so I better make my presence known.

"I'm here" I said loud enough for the judge to hear and all heads to turn my direction.

I walk towards the stage, taking a quick glance where Jimin had stood before seeing he was now gone. Probably left I thought.

I memorised my routine quickly in my head. "Eden Park, Modern Cle Doiv" I said to the judge quickly, he knew me so I didn't let him have a chance to ask, I felt a bit petty towards him by the way he treated Jimin. I didn't even know the him but I knew this judge all too well and he had a thing for neat picking.

The music started and I awaited in first position when suddenly the judge held up his hand to signal the music to stop.

"Modern Cle Doiv." He started. "That's different from your previous admissions of Moonlight Sonata, are you sure you should be doing something...not quiet at your standard Mrs. Park." He articulated finely, for everyone to hear.

I looked like a deer in the headlights, but I felt nothing towards his remark.

"It was my mothers favourite, I suggest sitting out during my performance if my routine makes you...uncomfortable, Mr. Brojjé." I reply confidently, resting back into first position.

The Mr.Brojjé who used to come to my childhood home to talk my mother through he upcoming routines, her mentor, a smart, funny older man who used to joke with my father about becoming a Supreme Ballerina just like my mother, he used to make me excited telling me he would support me whilst I did shows in New York, The Netherlands, Australia. He used to get me so riled up and excited, I used to watch my mother practice and perhaps that's when I fell in love with Ballet at the tender age of 5.

However this Mr.Bojjè is nothing like that how he used to be. What sits before me is a spiteful, hateful old man that no longer holds a place in my heart.

His hand raises again to cue the music to start, not wanting to cause more of a scene in front of the other dancers awaiting their audition.

Finally. The melody encapsulates the room. I subtly shook my hands envisioning it to let out all my stress, like I did whenever I performed.

Here goes nothing. I think.

I look upwards into the side stage, seeing Jimin standing there, awaiting my routine.