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mikki
at least that was what it felt like.
the unadulterated joy, the pure happiness. the wings were full of our screams. we were standing and hugging one moment, the next, on the ground, crying our eyes out, a mess of limbs and tear-stained cheeks.
we had come so far. it didn't matter if we didn't win.
i didn't care anymore.
⤎⎼༌·⋱🩰⋰⋆༌⎼⤏
"let's talk about the overalls!" the mc declared.
our knuckles were white and i couldn't feel my fingers. gripping so tightly onto paris and hannah's hands that we couldn't tell who's hands were who's. we didn't even think about abby. if we won, it would be our win. not our moms', not abby's, ours.
"ninth will be, i won't dance."
brady had come ninth?
"fourth place overall, inside out!"
"third place..."
pressley and i still hadn't been called.
"second place..."
my blood ran cold. we hadn't placed.
"and first place, national solo champion, cursed!"
you did it.
⤎⎼༌·⋱🩰⋰⋆༌⎼⤏
"our duo, trios!"
10.
9.
8.
7.
every number meant less chance of brady and i placing.
6.
5.
4.
3.
"second place, ariana and grace from new york dance studio!"
"first place, brady and mikaela, abby lee dance company!"
⤎⎼༌·⋱🩰⋰⋆༌⎼⤏
"now for our group awards."
"fifth place overall! tears of a clown, studio 19."
ha!
"second place overall, no hesitation."
national champions, or nothing.
"and our national champion, the prom!"
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