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August 21, 2015 ; 12:00

"Dance tryout forms right over here." A blonde says through a bullhorn.

I walk to the shaded booth and I look at the forms stacked into a neat pile. There was a bright pink form that was labeled 'JV' and there was another pile of purple papers that were labeled 'VARS'.

I picked up the purple form but one of the girls slam their hand down on the sheet. I look up and I see a girl with a hand on her hip and looking at me like a was a disgusting hobo.

"Do you have experience?" She asks.

"Yes." I nod my head.

"Which genre?" She asks.

"Ballet."

"Ballet?" She scoffs and turns to her friend. "This girl says she takes ballet." She snickers and her friends join in with her.

"How many years?" The girl to the right of her asks.

"Fifteen."

"How many pirouettes can you do?" She asks.

"What's a pirouette?" The girl the right of her asks.

"Shut up willow I'm asking this ballerina something." She swats the back of her friends head.

"I can do six."

"Fouetté turns?" She asks.

"Seventy- five."

"Impressive." She smirks. "Prove it in tryouts tomorrow." She says and lifts her hand off of the purple paper.

"Thank you." I smile at her.

I open my bag and I shove the form in there. Meanwhile, I remind myself that the iPhone 6 was still in my bag. I pull it out and zip my bag up. I unlock the phone and I go to notes. I pressed on the first note that was ever made and skim read the entire thing.

"Car accident?" I ask myself, rereading the entire journal entry.

Dear journal,

I read her note when I woke up in the morning. I did what she told me not to.

I looked for her.

But it was already to late. She got into a car accident and there wasn't anything I can do about it.

It felt like it was all my fault.

"Ashlyn, hey!" Cody exclaims and sits down right across from me.

"Hey." I say with my eyes being focused on the phone.

"You don't eat lunch?" He asks and shoves a forkful of chicken into his mouth.

I looked down at Cody's plate and I see a whole bunch of different foods. An apple, a carton of milk, baked chicken, and a piece of bread. I felt my forehead grow hotter and hotter and I felt a wave of nausea throughout my body.

I shake my head and I gulp while staring at my only fear in front of me.

Food was my true weakness. Just do it. Laugh. Laugh all you want. But food always made me feel sick to my stomach whenever I looked at it. My mom never even cared to notice that I would always eat a bite of my dinner before throwing it out. My dad was never around the house to even eat with us in general.

I uncap my hydroflask and I bring the metal to my lips and I let the smooth refreshing water slide down my throat. I felt relief as soon as the water hit my system and I return my focus to Cody.

Giving Up  [DISCONTINUED]Where stories live. Discover now