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Faith

“You’d be crazy not to go to this thing, you know.” Tara is lying on her bed in our dorm, flipping through a grunge fashion magazine as soft music plays from my laptop in the background. I’m cross-legged on my own bed, munching on a bag of chips we’d snagged from the dining hall, pondering her words. Since we’d run into Danny and his team earlier, she’s been relentless in reminding me that I’m a big girl now (her words) and that if I want to dance, I can fucking dance. Also her words. And while I know she’s right, it doesn’t make the prospect any less intimidating. I haven’t even started classes yet. If Sadie caught wind of my tryouts before my first homework assignment, shit would hit the fan.

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” I remind her, licking Cheeto dust from my fingers. Chips aren’t the only thing we’d snagged from the dining hall. Cookies, pastries, crackers, and an assortment of other junk food currently litter my bed. Sadie never allowed it in the house, so it’s safe to say I’ve been binging on crap food the last hour or so with no regrets.

“The guy we talked to was hot,” Tara muses, snapping her magazine shut to turn and look at me, wiggling her dark eyebrows. “Danny, right? I’d fuck him.”

I giggle, mostly because I’m not used to hearing such language used in everyday jargon. As Tara stares expectantly at me, I shrug and toss her a bag of unopened chips. “I would, too. Fuck him, I mean. Happy?”

“Hardly.” Tara pops open her bag of chips and stuffs one into her mouth. “I’m serious though, Faith,” she continues, staring at the ceiling. “College is supposed to be the time of your life. How would you feel looking back one day and realizing that you didn’t do anything you wanted to do and that you just did what your evil stepmother told you to? Is that the legacy you want to leave behind?”

“Wow.” I crumple up the bag of empty chips and toss it into the garbage bin at the foot of my bed with a chuckle. “That’s deep. I’m almost convinced.”

I’m glad Tara and I are friends, regardless of how pushy she seems to be. Deep down I know that a fierce personality like hers is exactly what someone like me needs. I’ve spent far too long cowering under Sadie’s thumb, flinching at every sound, every look, every word. Maybe Tara is right. After all, there’s a good probability I won’t make it onto the team. I haven’t danced seriously in years. So, where’s the harm in trying?

“Fine,” I say, sliding off my little twin-sized bed to pad across the room to the bathroom sink to wash my hands. I could at least give my father and Sadie this much: they sprang for a dorm that included a private bathroom. Thank God for that. While I wasn’t necessarily a prude, the thought of showering naked in front of complete strangers terrified me. Tara probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought.

“Fine, what?” she yells. “Does that mean you’ll do it? You’ll try out?”

“Only if you stop bugging me about it,” I tell her, thinking again of Danny’s handsome, serious face. God, Tara is right though; he was dreamy. So were the other guys on the team. Just the thought of being intertwined in their arms during a number is enough to send a chill of anticipation down my spine. All I can hope for now is that I don’t absolutely humiliate myself in front of these people. But that’s bound to happen. It’s just my luck.

“Good,” Tara says, meeting me at the bathroom door. She leans against the frame and grins at me, then runs a hand through her pixie hair. “I’ll try out, too.”

“Really? I had no idea you danced.” I hadn’t meant to sound so surprised, but Tara only chuckles.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” she says as we walk back to the beds. “I danced quite a bite in high school.”

“What kind of dancing?”

“A little bit of this and that,” she says with a vague shrug. Before I can push her more, she goes to her half-packed suitcase and withdraws a bottle of red wine, holding it up for me to see. “Would you care for a nightcap?”

“Erm. Is that allowed in here?”

Tara laughs again. It’s a good thing I really like this girl because it seems like she cannot take anything seriously.

“Loosen up,” she insists, prying the twist-off cap from the bottle. “You’re an adult now, sis. Act like it.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Tara presses. “Because Sadie would disapprove?”

At the mention of my stepmother’s name, I cringe, and my hands' ball into fists. Tara is right. I’m relying far too much on what my stepmother might think of my college activities. It’s hard to convince myself that I am, indeed, an adult, and I no longer live under her roof.

Just her wrath.

“Hit me then.” I watch as Tara pours us both a hefty serving into plastic cups and hands me one before capping the wine and sitting back down to drink it. I smell it, grimace, then take a sip. It’s not bad, actually. Fruity and sweet. My mother used to drink red wine with dinner and gave me a taste once, but it had tasted nothing like this. More bitter and dry. I never bothered drinking it again after that.

“Cheers,” Tara says, air-bumping my cup. “To a successful tryout tomorrow.”

“And to a good first day of classes,” I add, to which Tara rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that, too, I guess.”

I shoot back the rest of the wine, wrinkling my nose, but I can’t deny that I enjoy the warming sensation in the pit of my stomach as I set the now empty cup aside, set an alarm for the morning on my phone, and crawl under the comforter for bed. As I drift off to sleep, images of Danny and the other dancers swim through my mind, and I fall into a slumber with a slight tingling sensation between my thighs.

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