Faith

With a huff, I check the time before making my way back to the dorm to change into something appropriate for the tryout. Since being confronted by that jackass from the team, I desperately want to prove him wrong. I can dance, and I can do it well. Sure, it’s been ages since I’ve danced seriously, but my mother used to say, once a dancer, always a dancer. I keep that in mind as I dig through my clothes. Of course, I have nothing that will work well, so I settle on a pair of gray sweatpants and a tee shirt. Ugly, boring, but it’s the best thing I’ve got. It’s not about how I look, it’s about how I dance.

I have one more class before it’s time for tryouts, and I’m far more excited about this one. Psychology. I’ve always been fascinated with the human psyche. Maybe this class will even help me figure out the men on this dance team. It’s evident to me that I’m not the only one with issues.

Following the map, I find the lecture hall rather quickly. It’s massive, but somehow one of the first faces I spot in the sparse crowd is Tara, and a flutter of relief passes through me as she waves me over with a grin.

“I guess we should have compared schedules,” she says as I take the empty seat next to her. “It would have made this morning easier knowing I had my second class with you.”

“Everything okay?” I ask, and Tara nods her head with a tight laugh. “I got lost. I was fifteen minutes late. Fortunately, the professors are lenient today.” She leans down and pulls a fresh notebook and pen out of her bag, flipping it open to take notes. “How was your first class?”

“Boring as all get out,” I tell her. “I also had a run-in with one of the guys from that dance team. He’s kind of a knob.”

“A knob?” Tara chuckles. “Or a douchebag.”

I sigh. “Definitely a douchebag.”

“Which one was it? Danny?”

“No, one of the others. He didn’t tell me his name. I imagine we’ll see him at the tryouts.”

“I’m glad you still want to go,” Tara says, and I glance down at my silly outfit of a tee shirt and sweatpants.

“Can’t you tell?” I joke. “I’m clearly dressed as a champion.”

Before Tara can respond, a hush falls over the crowd as a male professor steps through the doors and settles his things in front of the podium before looking up and scanning the hall, his eyes briefly falling on each of us before moving to the next.

“Welcome to Psychology 101,” he says. “I’m Professor Hansen. Let’s go around the room and say our names, please.”

As expected, Psych is much more interesting than Econ, and time flies by. After our fifty minutes is up, it’s finally time for Tara and me to find the auditorium for auditions. It’s only now that I suddenly feel nervous, even more so than before, and my palms are sweating and shaking as we find the auditorium ten minutes later. Both of us stop right inside the doors, stepping into the dimly lit, massive area that boasts theater seats and a beautiful stage. At the front of the auditorium are a group of people I recognize as the team dancers, and scattered about the other seats are observers and what I assume are other dancers there for tryouts. Nobody really bothers to glance back as Tara and I slip in and take seats near the back. I need a moment to compose myself before announcing our arrival.

“Next up is Hailey Stanford. Come on out, Hailey.” I recognize Danny’s voice from one of the men up front, and a sigh of relief slips through my lips. Out of all of them, Danny seems to have the most faith in me. I’m still curious as to why, though, as he’s never seen me dance. He’s just assuming I’m any good, and for all either of us knows, I’m going to blow this entire tryout.

A moment later, a beautiful girl with legs that go on forever enters the stage. She’s dressed in a lovely dance suit that shows off her curves and her golden blond hair is tied up in a ballerina bun. I can tell just by looking at her that she’s not new to dance. Not at all.

“How cliche,” Tara murmurs to me. “She’s like the epitome of a dance snob.”

I nod but don’t say anything. This girl, Hailey, is probably going to kick both of our asses for the tryout. The thought makes my stomach roll with nausea. If this is what I’m up against, I should probably just leave now.

Wait, a little voice in my head says. Just because she looks good doesn’t mean she dances well.

I highly doubt that, but I won’t run away yet.

As the music to a familiar jazzy song begins, Tara and I watch intently along with the rest of the small crowd as Hailey begins her routine. I certainly wasn’t wrong in assuming that the girl was good, because she is, and anxiety climbs up my spine as Hailey twirls and moves her beautiful body to the music, lost in her own world, taken with the groove and the beat of the music. I swallow, squirming uncomfortably in my seat. Even Tara seems impressed by this girl, and that makes it even worse.

As the music fades and the lights dim to dark, a round of applause cracks through the crowd. I can’t help but notice, however, that the men, including Danny, barely clap their hands before leaning over and whispering to one another. I’m sweating now as the second dancer comes up on stage, a male hip-hop star. He does well, really well, and I cringe when he’s finished. The applause for this guy is even louder than the last, and anxiety simmers through me. I shake my head and lean in towards Tara.

“I’m sorry,” I say, rising to my feet. “I can’t do this.”

“But, Faith—,” she reaches for me but I slip out of her grasp and hurry towards the door to make my escape. As my fingers brush the door handle, the sound of my name stops me. This time, it doesn’t come from Tara, but it’s a man’s voice, one I recognize.

“Aren’t you here to try out, Faith?” The voice asks. I turn slowly, my eyes locking with the very man who confronted me outside the classroom. The douchebag. His tone drips with derision and mockery, and anger flares inside my soul. As his eyes stay locked with mine, the rest of the team turns to look at me. I shift my gaze to Danny, and his eyes light up.

"Faith," he says. "You made it."

I open my mouth to respond and then close it again. I can't leave now, not with everyone's eyes on me. Beside Danny, the rude kid speaks again.

"I don't know, Dan, I think she was trying to sneak away instead."

"Cut the shit, Theo," Danny says, his dark eyes narrowing in his friend's direction. "Leave her be."

Theo.

I hate that the name suits him. He looks like a Theo. A very, very hot Theo who, for some reason, has it out for me. Then again, the guy sitting to Theo's right who I also haven't met yet, is glaring at me like I've done something to personally and mortally offend him.

"I'm here, aren't I?" I demand, straightening my spine and throwing my shoulders back. I think of my mother, of her unyielding confidence. She taught me all I know, and I intend to show them all.

"You got this, girl," Tara whispers under her breath, looking proud. Despite my terror, I return her smile and walk confidently down the aisle and to the stairs leading up to the stage.

"Do you have a song preference?" Danny asks, his eyes roaming over my baggy tee shirt and sweatpants. I feel like an idiot and have to remind myself that I'm not here for a fashion show. I'm here to dance. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing.

"Can you play Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake?" I ask, and he nods, looking mildly impresses as Theo leans over his laptop and chooses the song for me. Swan Lake was one of my first competition songs. If I'm going to show them ballet, what better song than this one?

The music begins, and I take a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline rush through my body.

As I begin to move, I feel the grace and elegance of ballet take over me. Every step, every turn, is carefully choreographed, yet still feels like an expression of my soul. God, I missed this.

I extend my arm, reaching out to an imaginary partner, and then begin a series of pirouettes. My body spins and twirls, but I am completely focused, my mind blank except for the music and the movements, just like my mother taught me.

The minutes pass painfully fast. As the music reaches its climax, I leap into the air, feeling weightless and free. I land softly on the ground and hold the final pose, feeling the audience's surprised applause wash over me. It feels so familiar, and a sudden flashback of my mother standing at the edge of the stage after this very dance comes barreling into me like a freight train. I remember her tears of pride, and the smile on her face as she applauded.

That was the night she chose to break the news of her cancer to me.

I straighten up and try to catch my breath, catching sight of Tara who stands in the middle of the aisle applauding loudly. Many of the other dancers are cheering and clapping, including Danny, but the other ones, Theo and the guy next to him, simply stare at me, sneering. I ignore them both, basking in the admiration of the audience. God, I missed this. But even as I relish in their admiration, I know that the true joy of ballet is not in the applause or the costumes, but in the moment when movement and music become one, and my body becomes a vessel for the beauty of art.

Oh, how I’ve missed this.