My favorite motivation is the drive to prove you're better than those who've wronged you...
--
I remember That Day very vividly. As if my brain knew this story was one worth being shared. I had marked off months in my calendar, waiting. That Day, I was seven, which for my studio, the age you're allowed to tryout for team.
In my first ever class, we watched the competition girl's groups. I had never wanted to trade bodies with anyone more than I did in that moment. My three-year-old self wanted to do the acro and pirouettes and fan kicks they were, but, alas, I was stuck with my tendus and a mirror they constantly reminded us to be careful with.
So, you can only imagine my excitement, when That Day became This Day. This Day...Ah, a day you could have only truly understood through the eyes of my idol. If we were on the rainbow, I would be looking up to her 24/7.
She was everything I'd ever wanted to be. Not only her dancing, but also her humility. Her kindness, which I had learned about on This Day. She was my Lady Gaga to all the little gays. She was my icon, but I think you could've guessed that.
I walked into Studio One and placed my bag with the others by the front mirror. I have this one memory haunting me: In almost slow motion, I turned to face the loud room and realized I knew no one. Taking my broken happiness, I sat in the back corner. Alone.
This-This is my villain origin story, man. I haven't even gone into second grade yet, and I'm in a loud room with no one to give me confidence. It's ok, Little Me, you still have none.
To add to my problems, everyone around me looked older. I leaned forward to stretch, rethinking all life decisions. It was way too loud in there. I felt my chest tighten. To distract myself, I dug my nails into my hands and tried to go as deep into the stretch as I can.
--
"You're never going to be able to get a good stretch like that, silly."
I look up, "That was not very funny," and glance down again.
The meanie stands there for a second. Then, slowly reaches out. She moves my leg so my knee faces the ceiling instead of the mirror. I can't reach my hands as far out, but it feels like a better stretch.
"Stay like this. Turning in will hurt your flexibility in the long run and you could get an injury."
I turn back to look at her. Really, look at her. I feel myself squint, "Your hair is pretty."
She's obviously caught off guard and glances at herself in the mirror, "Um, thank you? I'm surprised you think it looks good. I forgot to wash it last night."
"I like the color. It's pretty."
"My mom said it will help me stick out in auditions."
"I like red hair. Before, were you trying to help me?"
"Uh, yah? Sorry. I should have asked before fixing you."
"Its okay," I smile. My chest is no longer tight. The room feels a slightly quieter. She seems less mean.
"What's your name, babes?" She smiles back.
"Mauve. And, I am not a baby," My smile drops. Nope, still a meanie.
"Really? Wow. You have to be at least 3," She is still smiling. Doesn't she realize how she's bullying me.
"Noo. I'm seven, meanie."
"Meanie? Easy, Pipsqueak. I'm messing with you," She laughs. I hesitate but laugh with her. To make her feel better.
"If I need help during tryouts, will you help me?"
"Of course. I don't think you'll need it, though." Aw. She thinks I'm going to make it. I can't let her down now.
"Thank you!" I grin. She blinks and smiles.
"Hey, You."
We look to the right side of the room. A group of older girls are looking over here. One of them is even waving.
"What?" I whisper to the girl.
"That's just Olive and her friends. Go say hi. They'll be nice to you," She grins.
"Mom did say I need to make some friends while I am here," I start to stand.
"Well, goodluck, Mauve. You seem nice, so I'm crossing my fingers for you. Not both hands, though. That's bad luck," She gives me a fist bump.
"You aren't coming with me?" I ask.
"Oh, no. I like to stay alone before a performance or audition. But, you're always welcome back over. Only, if you want," She smiles again, but its a little off.
"Okie dokie! Bye, bye!" I skip over to the group, "Hey."
"What's your name?" The girl who waved (Olive?) asks. We all introduce ourselves, but there are too many. I think there's a Periwinkle? And, a Kobi? I'll figure it out later.
I continue to stretch in pike. I hear snap and glance over to the girl from before. What's her name? She points at her legs, which are perfectly straight, then at mine, which are definitely not. I fix it and smile. She gives me a thumbs up.
My ears start listening to the group "-Mrs. Lavender is off the-"
"Shhh," They all look at me. What did I do?
"..Off the sugar. It was so bad for her health. It affected us just as much. Right, Guys?" Everyone looks sad and start nodding. I hope Mrs. Lavender is better from the sugar.
Speak of the devil. Mrs. Lavender walks in with my ballet teacher. Everyone stands up, so I follow.
"Welcome, Hopefuls," she stands in the front of the room, looking over us, "I've brought in our very special Mr. Mahogany for today. Give your all for him."
I've had Mr. M before in a class, so this shouldn't be too, too bad. We spread out into lines based off age. The older ones in the front and younger ones in the back.
The red-head girl from before is standing closer to the front and is right next to Olive. Olive says something to her and laughs. The red-head looks unamused. Must have been a horrid joke.
We start our warm-up with Mr. Mahogany's favorite song: Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. He always does the same movements every time. On This Day, he just HAS to switch it up.
I can tell immediately. He isn't standing in a first position like he normally does, but, rather, a left fifth. I'll let it slide, because he is the best ballet teacher ever.
It's hard to do the guided stretch, because my body is so used to doing the same movements. I had switch off my muscle memory and actually pay attention.
He takes us through a tendu combo to start. En croix: tendu, demi-point, demi-point, demi-point, close. Two tendus. Two degages. The beginning is flat-footed. After we go through this on ,both, the left and right, we rise to releve and repeat.
The combo is easy on the ground, but, when we went up on releve, I kept wobbling. I glance over at the red-head and she's basically still. I look at Olive next to her and it is the same. I , quietly, huff and lift my chin. I am going to get this.
The song switches to a classical version of "Shape of You". Listening to the music, Mr. Mahogany takes us into plies. Again, I have to pay close attention to what he is doing.
We start in First Position: demi plie, ron de jambe en dehors, demi plie, ron de jombe en dedans, cambre forwards and back.
Second Position: demi plie, releve, grande plie, cambre side-to-side
Fourth Position: demi plie, press over front foot, demi plie, press over back foot, cambre forward with plie in back leg, cambre backwards with plie in front leg. Repeat on right.
Fifth Position: demi plie, ron de jambe en dehors, demi plie, ron de jombe en dedans, cambre forwards and back.
I noticed in all of the cambre stretches, the red-head and Olive go on releve. About halfway in, I try it, too. It was a way better stretch. I should listen to that girl more often.
Behind me I hear a cough. I turn to see Mrs. Lavender sitting in the back corner with a pencil and pad. She watches someone for like five seconds, then scribbles something down. This drives me to do better.
Mr. M moves into the grande battements. I'm not the best at kicks. I glance to the girls on either side of me and pray they don't have kicks to the ceiling.
En croix: tendu, lift, tendu, lower, two grand battements. We do this left and right to a classical version of another pop song I think I've heard on the radio before.
Seeing my kicks in the mirror was...interesting. Luckily, the Lord himself must've been pitying me, because all of the kicks in the back weren't very high. Not much higher than belly-button-level.
He has us all turn to face the right and walk in a straight line to our across-the-floor formations. He runs through the combo and changes the song to some random piano music. We have three minutes to practice by ourselves.
Everyone just starts talking, but I just can't get the footwork. I look for the flash of red and go towards it. She is talking with Olive.
"...not the time for this. I, for one, want to get another solo this year, and you will not be messing this up for me."
I tap her on the shoulder, "If you aren't helping Olive, can you help me? I'm so lost."
She gives me a small smile and explains the steps slowly. When time is up, everyone scrambles to their positions.
Center: temps leve, chasse, pas de bourre to fifth position. Again, temps leve, chasse, pas de bourre to fifth position. Again, temps leve, chasse pas de bourre to fourth, double pirouette. Repeat all the way across.
I can only do a single pirouette turn. Red-head told me that was ok. She also told me "temps leve" means "to fall" in French. She thought it was cool how the dance move looks like a slight trip.
"What if I 'temps leve'?" I asked. She had ruffled my hair a bit.
"You better get up and keep dancing, or I will personally walk over to you and make you."
I keep all her corrections in my head as I go across the floor. Once I'm at the other end, I give myself a head-ruffle in celebration.
There are about forty other groups after mine. The red-head is in group 23-ish. I make sure to always have her in my sight, so I can watch her.
She lines up to go. A breathe is taken and she begins. Her mom was right; She does stick out at auditions. Her hair helps, I guess, but her dancing has your eyes glued to her. She outshines everyone else by a longshot.
Once she is on my side, I give her a high five. I look at the next group lined up to go. Olive is in that next group. She almost misses her chance to go, though, because she was staring at the red-head. Her mouth was wide open and looked shocked? Why is she so surprised?
Must be the leprechaun-hair she's worried about.
Gingers are a different breed.
Time for left. We get another three minutes to practice. I look around for my lil leprechaun, but she's already headed over to me. Thank goodness she gets the memo.
"Hey, you did so good; Olive's jaw almost touched the ground," I whisper and laugh. Her eyes widen in shock.
"Really? Wow.." She helps me but has the biggest smile on her face while she does so.
Time's up.
We get in our lines to go across again. I have no clue how, but my left was worse than my right. I didn't know a single turn could fit 30 hops. I'm here to have fun. It doesn't really matter all too much.
I excitedly watch for the ginger. The lines are different, though. Olive is in the same group as my leprechaun. Hm..
Whatever. It's not my problem.
They begin the combo. As expected, the red-head is amazing. Olive seems more and more exasperated the further in they go.
When they're at about halfway from the halfway closest to us, the good one falls.
Hard.
Everyone just stops, except for Olive who finishes the sequence with a newly formed smile on her face.
The music continues to play as the ginger just lays there. Now, face down. Everyone else just walks off and the next group is getting ready to go.
What is wrong with people? I huff.
I walk on over to her and say, "What happened to 'You better get up and keep dancing, or I will personally walk over to you and make you.'?"
She looks up, "Just leave me here. I'm so embarrassed."
"Girly, they have to start the next group. At least, get out of the middle of the floor."
She rolls off towards the back. I follow her and sit down.
"What happened?" I asked.
She looked at me long and hard, debating, before shifting her eyes to the the ground, "Nothing," she mumbles.
"It's ok. Your left was better than your right. Before you fell, at least."
She looks back at me with a little smile, "Thanks."
"Ok, girls. Get some water. You have ten minutes before jazz auditions begin."
We look at each other and get up. She runs ahead to bring her bag to mine.
As she runs off, I can't help but think: I want to be her someday. Those girls I watched four years ago have nothing on her. I don't know her name, but I like her smile. Its that kind that just lights up the world.
You can tell she doesn't really like her own smile. She stops herself when she starts. Maybe, it isn't perfect, but its hers. That makes it perfect enough.
She's perfect enough. She acted a ton better than I would have in her situation. I would've quit right there. I admire her.
Not just her smile. Her face. So filled with love, but added with passion when she dances. The way she walks and the way she talks.
Everything.
I admire it. Because only she can do those things that way, she's just that much more special. No one in the room can match her. But I want to.
Someday.
She comes over with her bag and her smile, and we move into jazz. We start with some across the floor walks, then a combo.
--
The rest of the day is just a big blur. I only remember her smile showing me how to do different skills. I saw in the mirror how bad it was, but she only offered encouragement.
Olive didn't really hang out with me anymore. She wasn't really my kind of people anyways. I still gave her hugs, though. I don't pass up a chance on hugs.
--
"Girls, get in a line, please." We scramble to find somewhere to stand. I, of course, am next to my red-head.
"Thank you all for coming to auditions. We will review the notes and you will get an email with 1) whether or not you made it and 2) which dances you made. We wish you all the very best. I am crossing both my fingers for all of you."
"Oh, no. Don't cross both. That's bad luck!" I correct her. Everyone starts laughing, even Mrs. Lavender.
I look to the leprechaun for support as she was the one who supplied the information. She's laughing too. I can't even be mad. I want to make her laugh more.
I want to make her like me.
--
And so, This Day became That Day, again. I didn't know it then, but This Day altered my whole life. That's the next story, though. Oh, and one more thing. On the way out, I had learned that girl's name.
--
"It's Red."