Her breathing stilled, all sound around her diminishing until there was only the music. Her feet moved as they had done hundreds of times before. The music flowing through her like the blood in her veins. Every beat of sound, like the beat of her heart, slow and bounding.
The bright lights shone down on her face, highlighting the makeup she took hours to put on. Her cheeks pink as tulips in spring, her eyes like melted honey, her lips as red as roses in snow, her hair pulled back in a tight black bun, her skin pale as snow basked in sun, her movements so fluid you couldn’t tell where she started and the music ended, her leotard shining across the room, covering the hundreds of people in a blue hue. Hundreds of people. Hundreds of eyes. All eyes on her.
Months of rigorous training. Hours spent in the ballet studio to hone her skills. All for the moment she would be on stage. All to prove that she was worthy of the lead role she was given. “You can do this.” Her mother told her. “I know you can be the best.” Her mother said. Those words run through her mind, over and over. Every time she fell, every time she pushed herself to go further, she told herself that she Needed To Be The Best.
My body doesn’t noodle as naturally as theirs do,
So I stretch and flex,
Rehearse each position in my mind.
Again!
Open!
Higher!
Again!
I won’t give up,
I won’t,
I won’t,
no matter what they say.
Quarter turn!
Half turn!
Full turn!
Pirouette!
I’ll be a prima ballerina yet!
-By Edgar Degas
“The NutCracker” The fliers said, her name laying under the role of Clara. Her name. That was her name. “Oh my god… That’s my name!” She yelled happily, her smile practically spanning the entirety of her face. “That it is.” Her ballet teacher Mrs. Lina said, coming up to stand beside her, “You are our Clara, my dear.” Mrs. Lina said, the ghost of a smile across her face. Mrs. Linas old eyes filled with a look of pride, the wrinkles around them deepening. “You will Be the best.”
Her muscles burned and ached, her eyes watered as she fought to catch her breath. The music ended and she stood on the stage alone, her arms raised high and her back arched in a dramatic arc. Her heart pounded in that split second before the audience exploded in applause, people standing and cheering. The cheers continued far after the curtain had fallen, her body strung taut Listening to the cheers. All those cheers. Just for them. Just for her.