Therapy [KRISTEN STEWART] (DISCONTINUED)

3

The two weeks of practice and mental torture went by fast. In the blink of an eye, it was Saturday morning and Kristen was getting ready to compete. She wasn't feeling prepared for the competition. Sure, she had practised her routine, until she was told that she had nailed it, but was it enough? Her feet were completely bruised. And all her rivals were going to be there. Too much pressure for the young girl.

The green room seemed smaller than usual. Kristen felt like she was going to suffocate. It was harder for her to breathe. Her stomach was twisted in knots. What if she forgot her dance? That had never happened to her. But it was possible. Every dancer, at least one in their life, would forget a routine.

Kristen closed her eyes and tried to run her dance in her head. Alas, it was too noisy and she couldn't focus enough. Her heart was beating faster than usual. Scratch that. It was racing, like an F1 racing car. She had to calm herself down. But how? If she screwed up, she would disappoint everyone around her, including herself. And even her pretty burgundy dress would not be able to save her in that situation.

Kristen couldn't even hear her name being called. Her head was in her hands as she was trying to breathe deeply and slowly. She had to regain control of herself. She couldn't let herself slip out of the state she was supposed to be into in this particular moment.

"What's wrong?", her teacher asked her, having sensed something was not quite right with their student.

Kristen had no time for sympathy. It was a big day for her. She had to prove herself in front of so many people. She smiled at her teacher, explaining she was simply running her solo in her head and hoped it was convincing enough for an excuse.

It seemed like it was.

"Good girl!", praised the teacher and walked away to check on the other soloists.

Kristen satisfied herself with her teacher's words and rushed to the wings to wait for her turn. There, she was careful not to watch the rest of the soloists. She hadn't heard Mackenzie's name, but other girls from prestigious studios and even from a reality show or two had already passed, when it was time for her to perform.

"And now contestant number 348! Contestant number 348 is in the Senior Division. This is Kristen Stewart dancing to 'Say Something'!", it was announced.

Kristen gracefully sashayed to the middle of the stage and stood in her starting pose, waiting for her music. The moment the first notes were heard, she let herself flow with the music, slipping into the character she had to portray. At moments, the audience would applaud and that was making Kristen happy. She was approved of. Thank God.

Fortunately for Kristen, or maybe not so much, the next contestant was Mackenzie. The moment she appeared on stage, the whole audience burst into applause. She was even more popular than Kristen. She was one of Hollywood's sweethearts - the golden child, the perfect girl. Kristen could only dream of being more like her. And had she been asked the previous month, she would say she would never switch herself with anybody for even a minute. Things, however, had changed.

No wonders why Mackenzie had been absent from recent competitions. Her routine was practically flawless. She had to have worked on it for months. With its deep storyline, movements that underlined a great technique and a unique costume, this dance had great chances of winning.

As Kristen was watching Mackenzie dance, she wished she was more like her rival. Mackenzie was petite, with more childlike features and silky straight hair that stopped at the middle of her back. Next, to her, Kristen felt unsightly, too much like a grown adult. She thought her forehead was too large, that her jaw resembled the letter V too much. Why couldn't she look more innocent, just like Mackenzie?

The minute her rival finished, Kristen was glad she had gone before her. She couldn't imagine if she had to dance next. Unable to watch the next performances, she walked away as gracefully as she possibly could, keeping her head up high to intimidate her competitors and marched to the bathrooms, where she could find a moment of solitude.

On the way, she never stopped thinking about the moment when her heart was racing. What had been that? Was it because of nerves?

The most important question was - was it ever going to happen again?