⎼⎼⎼ 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ➵ 𝑏.𝑓.

046

brady

finally. finally. finally. i was finally going to get a shot at nationals. to get a chance to show that i was a better dancer than anyone ever could have thought. the problem was, i was competing with mikki.

she had never gotten a place under second, never underperformed. incredible on stage, succinct, persuasive. convincing everyone that she deserved her gold medal with the fluid movements. every part of her dance was refined. for her, the sky's the limit. and if she was going to dance like she did before, then i was helpless.

the start of the dance was us swaying as we held hands, but abby was pedantic about the knees, the feet, the amount we swayed. she had half her career based on the show, and we were her saving grace from embarrassment. if we won.

paris was struggling again. we knew each other. we knew abby's choreography and paris didn't. she needed more time, more help.

abby had brought in a bucket full of ashes. i don't know where she got it from, but dipping my hands in the crumbly powder, i did not like the feel.

when we danced, it created a smoky effect, kind of cool, but terrible for your lungs. i kept coughing violently.

"one week before nationals, and there is no way you guys are losing in pittsburgh. no. way."

🩰

"i really hope the solos do good this week," gia said, "because even if you do good, abby changes her mind all the time."

"why are you upset hannah," brady said gently.

"well it's not fair that i'm the only one who doesn't have a chance at doing a solo." hannah's eyes were red from the pre-tears that were welling in her eyes.

"why don't you think you have a chance," gia prodded.

"because abby literally said so," i replied, patting hannah's arm.

"i think i could do well at nationals, but abby just doesn't see that." lilly began twisting her hair. i knew she felt uncomfortable because she had a sure spot.

⤎⎼༌·⋱🩰⋰⋆༌⎼⤏

"alright, i'm starting with pressley. the name of your piece is 'flower child'. you are a hippie, you're wishing the world would change. the world is talking about women's rights, laws that certain states are making. it's like we're being pushed back to the sixties."

brady and i leaned on the mirrors, watching pressley dance through her solo. it was an incredibly technical dance. she had excellent musicality and great character acting. brady had the intense technical superiority over both of us. i was just me.

honestly, i had no real hope.

"alright, that's hard. i think we're good."

"thank you," pressley panted, leaving the studio for a drink.

"brady you're next."

he. had. to. dance. blind. folded.

i watched in horror, every muscle in my body tensed. what if he fell? what if he stumbled? what if he-

oh shut up mikki, he's a great dancer, stop worrying.

i kept worrying. i was so transfixed on his dance i didn't even notice press had come back into the room.

"oh my-" she said, seeing the black cloth around his eyes. "blindfold?"

"you guys have such hard solos, i'm worried for mine," i laughed.

if brady could pull this off, it would be a roaring success. you couldn't take your eyes off this, it kept you on the edge of your seat, the breath in your throat, the adrenaline rush through your veins like a malicious kind of ice.

"i like his face, i think he should show it at the end," gianna smiled, glancing at me. i returned it with a 'what-did-i-do' expression.

"well, he doesn't use his face," abby sniped, "kinda like...hannah. if you don't use it, cover it."

i had to admit that was a smart move on abby's part. brady wasn't the best actor. but the logic was flawed. he kinda needed his eyes.

"mikki, you're up."

shaking just a bit from the nerves, i took my place in the middle of the studio.

"your dance is contemporary. it's titled 'the moment'. you have this-" she pulled out a bag and a heavy vintage camera from it. "you're passing through life, and you're capturing every moment you see with the camera. the thing is, you're taking pictures of imaginary people, so you have to act well."

it was the hardest dance i had ever done. i had to motion invisible beings closer, run backward to capture imaginary crowds, carry the heavy camera through turns and bend my body in more angles than ever.

"alright, you're finished."

yes. i am. but in a very different sense.

the author speaks:
renegade by taylor is such a vibe.