Half of My Heart ✔️

44 | take my pain

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one year earlier . . .

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I step through the door and outside, not bothering to hold the door open for Dani who's walking behind me. She shouts goodbye to one of her friends who's leaving as well. "Scar, wait up!" She shouts as I walk through the parking lot.

There are always tons of classes on Thursday afternoon, so I had to park the Mustang a few blocks down from the packed parking lot of the dance studio. "Why are you walking so damn fast?" She yells, the distance between us growing larger. Behind me, she can't see the scowl on my face.

"Are you mad or something?" She finally asks, her voice growing fainter. I keep walking. "Scar!"

Of course, I'm mad. But I'm not specifically mad at Dani, just as something that involves her, so I'm not really allowed to be a bitch to her. But that doesn't stop some of my frustration from being vented toward her, even though none of it is her fault.

She can't control the big mouth of our dance instructor. Ever since Dani caught up to me in the advanced ballet classes, our dance instructor, Ms. Weaver, has made it pretty obvious that my younger sister is the better dance between the two of us.

For the last few months, it hasn't bothered me much. Because everything Ms. Weaver says about Dani's gift for dancing is absolutely true. And I love my sister, and I know how much she loves to dance. Dance has always been just something fun for me, but it's been Dani's entire life. Dani deserves all the praise she receives.

But today, just over a week before our regional competition, Ms. Weaver took it upon herself to give a ten-minute-long speech to our entire dance class about Dani's natural talent while Dani went to the bathroom. That would have been fine on its own, but it was her last line that really got me.

"It's amazing to see a young girl with so many natural gifts. Even more amazing when you consider the lesser abilities of her sister. Older sister, might I add," Mrs. Weaver told our. Entire. Fucking. Class.

What a bitch.

I'm not serious about dance and I know Dani dances better than me, but it was embarrassing to be spoken of like that. Everyone fell silent when she said that, obviously uncomfortable by the comparison. The fact that I knew they were all pitying me made it even more embarrassing. Even as we left, several of them shot me pitying looks.

When I reach the car, I turn around and see Dani a block behind me, walking pretty slowly. Rolling my eyes, I start walking back toward her. "What's taking so long?" I ask, impatience seeping into my voice. "Did you roll your ankle or something?"

"No," Dani insists. But instead of saying something sarcastic like she usually would, she adds, "I think I fractured a rib. It hurts when I take deep breaths."

I notice she's holding her hand to her chest, wincing with almost every breath. "Dani, how did that happen?" I ask, taking her other arm to help.

She shakes her head. "Alyssa and I were being idiots before class started and I accidentally fell into the barre. It hit me right in the chest," she explains. "Ouch, Scar, I think it's getting worse. I could hide it from Ms. Weaver during class, but I can barely stand up straight now."

"Do you think you'll be able to dance next week?" I ask concernedly. I know how much regionals means for Dani, and Ms. Weaver has all but said that she's a shoo-in for first place in her solo category. "How long do these things take to heal?"