For as long as I can remember, dancing has been everything to me. It is an integral part of my life. I will never forget the first ballet lessons with my father.
I watched my dad closely, and repeated his moves as good as I could. During our first lesson, I wore soft ballet shoes, a beautiful leotard, and a pink tutu. My mother fixed my hair into a bun, and I felt like a real ballerina, just like the ones I had seen performing in my dad's work. I wanted to be like them, flying over the floor as they danced gracefully.
"Very good, princess. Now turn on tiptoe. Keep your hands up high, as if you want them to touch the sky," my dad said, grinning at me and dancing the first steps. I chuckled and imitated his moves.
My mother came into the room. She leaned against the door and shook her head with a laugh.
"Ignazio, don't be so hard on her. Livia is only 4. I think half an hour of practice is enough."
"She wanted to keep practicing!" he laughed. "She doesn't want to take her ballet shoes off. She likes this."
"Mom! Look, I'm dancing!" I exclaimed, smiling broadly. I was eager to show her the steps my dad had taught me.
As I spun around, I tripped over my feet and fell on the floor. My mother's eyes widened, and she hurried over to me with outstretched arms to help me up. Before she could reach me, I got up on my own and stood on tiptoe. I ignored the aching pain in my knee from the fall, determine to show my mother what I had learned. I wanted her to be delighted by my dancing, just as I'd been thrilled to watch the other ballerinas dancing across the stage.
"I'm not done. Look what else I can do," I said, and raised my hands high up, just like dad showed had me.
My mother stood next to my dad and watched as I danced. When I finished my last move, I bowed and laughed as I ran to my mother's arms. "How was it? Did I fly?" I asked, eager to have her approval.
She embraced me and took my hands in hers. "Beautiful, darling. It was beautiful," she said softly, and kissed me on the cheek. "Go ahead take off your costume. Tomorrow dad can teach you more."
And he did, just as mom said he would. My dad taught me day after day, week after week. And with each practice, I fell more and more in love with dance. My father infected me with his passion. For as long as I can remember, our house was filled with music, singing and dancing. My mother was an actress in the theater, and had spent most of her career singing in musicals. My dad was a professor in choreography. When I was 4, I began to learn basic dance steps. We started with ballet, because every good dancer should know the basics of it. Ballet developed a dancer's sense of balance, control, discipline, and a desire for perfection.
After ballet, we worked on Jazz dance, street dance, and ballroom dancing. I quickly mastered the basics of break dance, and then house dance, and hip hop. I was hungry for more, and went on to new dance courses with a endless desire to learn every dance style I could. With the support of my parents, I strived to fulfill my dreams.
After graduating from high school, I became a dancer in a troop called "Black Diamonds", assisting the biggest names in the music industry.
We were mainly used as stage background during shows. As the artist sung, our role was to spin around and charm the audience into awe, to make the concert or gala rememberable to fans.
However, no single dancer was ever remembered. Our faces were quickly forgotten. Fans in the audience would focus on the singer, their idol. Not on us. Yet, we were the scene, and without us, the singer would be nothing.
We also danced in music videos, stage musicals, and films that required extras with our skills.
I loved my job, though sometimes it was really hard. We rehearsed for hours for Sylvia Clarke's new song because it was such a different style of music and had a awkward pace. Mistakes were easily made, and they were often not tolerated. Yet, the pressure wasn't unwarranted, because we were the best team out there and we were expected to be the best.
"Alice, more emotion! Kelly, dammit! Did you eat breakfast today? You're moving like you have no energy in your legs!" Among the many rips our choreographer, Miranda, barked at us. A tall blonde, no-nonsense, middle aged woman. After hearing her, girls pulled themselves together and properly danced various choreographed sequences.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the music. I felt the rhythm inside of me, becoming one with the accelerated pulse. In that dance hall, despite the open, it was hot and stuffy. I felt sweat rolling down my skin, and the muscles tense in my arms and legs. Fatigue weighed down on me as I focused intently on dancing with my group. We were like a single organism. Everything was perfectly synchronized.
I opened my eyes and looked at the huge mirrors extending along the walls. My long, brown hair was tied back into a ponytail, but quite a few wisps had fallen along my hot neck. My skin was usually pale, but now had become flushed with the exercise. Especially my face. I've never had a tan. The sun never liked me, and any attempt to get a good tan ended in sunburn. I stopped trying to sunbathe long ago. I wore minimal to no makeup to keep it from smearing down my sweaty face.
I was glad that I only lived a kilometer away from the studio i trained at. I hated to go out into the streets without makeup. I had a fairly sizable nose, unfortunately, which I got from my father, who is Italian. Without the help of contouring, there was no way of hiding it. I was not too happy with my mouth either, as my lower lip was slightly higher than my upper lip. The only thing I seemed to like about my face was my eyes. Chocolate brown with spots of gold. I was just an average looking girl, and nothing stood out about me among the other dancers.
Well, at least, I am better than most when it comes to rhythm.
"And again! Keep the rhythm! Kelly, if you make one more mistake, you'll be doing sit-ups again! And one, and two, and three, and turn! And one..." Miranda directed, watching us intently.
Immediately, I pulled out of my thoughts and came back to reality. I know this choreography by heart, and my body knows where to go without thinking consciously about it.
"Dammit, why is it that only Livia can dance this right? That's all for today. Tomorrow we will meet again at 9 am. And you all better be rested."
I smiled modestly as Miranda praised my efforts. She turned off the music. The rest of the dancers began to exit the hall. I craved a cold shower. I was starving, and only then did I realize it. When I dance, I tend to forget everything. Ordinary things like hungry, thirst, and fatigue become trivial and unimportant.
Suddenly, our manager walked into the room with a big smile on her face. Alexis was in her usual attire, a smart black suit and her short, fiery red hair artfully tousled.
"People, I have great news for you!" she announced, grimacing as the smell overpowering the room reached her nose.
Well, we definitely didn't smell so nice.
Everyone stopped and looked at her expectantly. I leaned against the wall, as my heart rate began to relax. I kept thinking about rinsing off in the showers of the locker room, and then enjoying a long, hot bath later at home. Yes, that idea was wonderful.
"I just received a call from an agent of a very famous singer. He wants to hire us for his entire tour. We're going to Europe!"
My best friend, Kathy, a tall, dark haired, freckled girl, looked at our agent and frowned. "Who?"
"Hmm, I forgot. One second..." the somewhat scatterbrained Alexis said, flipping through her notes on her tablet.
Kathy rolled her eyes, and a few people laughed.
"If he's so famous, how could you forget his name?" Mike exclaimed, amused.
For me, it was inconceivable, but Alexis did have an overwhelming number of responsibilities, and if that weren't enough, she walked with her head in the clouds. I had no idea how she coped with being a manager, but she really could organize everything well. Appearances could be deceiving.
"It's emotional. You know, soon we'll have loads of money and visit Europe," she said, distracted as she continued searching her notes. "Oh, here it is. His name is James Sheridan!"
Soon after, everything turned upside down. My whole world. I couldn't stop it. I tried to resist it. To fight the feelings that were rising inside of me. Day to day. Week to week. Month after month. But unsuccessfully. Until finally, I was lost.
Dancing meant everything to me... Until James came into my life.