Une Fleure Fanée

Week 1 Part 3 (Friday)

     "Girls and Brady, you do realize this week is very important for me. It's my first time out in public. The first time I'm back. You're gonna be representing the ALDC, so everybody needs to step it up," Ms. Abby remarks. I nod.

     I am once again in high spirits. The thoughts have stayed dormant today, and I am very bubbly. I am bouncing on my toes a bit. For once, I am not afraid that I have to step it up. I can step it up.

     "Brady, you're the only boy. You're gonna stand out. All the eyes will be on you. You need to have more expression on your face. You're telling the story," Ms. Abby directs to Brady.

     "This dance is about broken hearts, and I need the audience to feel that," Ms. Abby says.

     Ms. Abby had given us homework yesterday. Our assignment is to write about a time we felt about homework. I decide I am going to share just the outline of my bulimia story, changing my age so that it's set after Dance Moms. Not what caused it. Not the process. Just the fact.

     Hannah is up first, but she doesn't speak. She is very quiet. Eventually, she tells us about her great-grandma who always came to see her dance and she passed away. GiaNina rubs her shoulder. She's good at comforting people. We all crowd around her to comfort her, protecting her almost.

     "101?" Ms. Abby repeats, gobsmacked. "That's a long life to live. That's more years than most of us get. My dad died when he was 72 and my mom when she was 86."

     Ms. Abby starts to tear up. I feel bad for her. She didn't have any parental comfort when she went through chemo or prison. She didn't have anybody except her friends.

     "Brady, women outlive the men. Just saying," she remarks, and we all chuckle at her joke. "You never know. You just live your life to the fullest. 'Cause, you don't know."

     My high spirits plummet when she says that. I remember being so close to dying when I was sick. The doctor said I didn't gain a single pound from when I was seven to when I was nine, and I probably would have died or would have obtained serious damage if I hadn't gotten help about a month after I actually did get help.

     I'm still a little broken, a little sick, but I'm better. My spirits rise back up right after that thought has gone through my head. I am not dead. I am alive and doing what I love: dancing.

     We all go around. Brady shares when he was hurt by his best friend. Pressley shares when she didn't place even though she worked hard at an important dance competition. GiaNina shares that her grandma died right ten days into her Broadway debut. Savannah shares when someone made fun of her outfit in a competition, and she almost pulled the dance because of it. Sarah shares when her dog died. Tears are everywhere. Then it was my turn.

     I have practiced this in the car. I am still terrified. The thoughts try to tell me to stop, but I need to tell them. I clear my throat and look down to the ground.

     My hands are clammy and shaking as I begin to share, stuttering a lot, "When I was nine years old, I developed an eating disorder called bulimia. It's when you force yourself to throw up all the food you eat, it's just awful. I had to go into treatment, and I had to go into the inpatient unit for a week, and it was really scary. I'm a lot better now, but I still have my bad days. But, you know, I'm grateful that I survived, and now I'm here."

     Everybody stares at me, not in a judgemental way, but in a shocking way as I burst into tears. All the dancers hug me and I feel safe. I've felt safe maybe once after inpatient. Feeling safe is special and rare.

     "Bulimia's hard to go through, and you're really brave. Any eating disorder is. I'm really glad that you made it out because you're a very bubbly girl, and you all have very bright futures," Ms. Abby said, and I smile, wiping away my tears.

      Suddenly, Ms. Abby wheels so that she is closer, and faces us so that we can see the back of her head. She took off her wig, showing a small head of hair. She is very hesitant as we all lean in to see a long scar on her back from her spine surgery. We all gasp. I look at Savannah, and we keep staring at it.

     "You're a warrior, Ms. Abby," GiaNina states, and we all murmur in agreement.

     I hope I never had to go through anything that intense. I don't think an eating disorder tops cancer. We hear clapping coming from the viewing box and Ms. Abby is tickled pink as she wipes away tears. I only met these people two days ago, and I feel like I can trust them with my life. Abby puts back on her wig and Ms. Gianna fixes it up for her.

     At lunch, we all connect a lot. We aren't strangers anymore. We all have an unspoken agreement not to bring up the stories we shared, as to not hurt or trigger other people. Talking helps, but it takes a lot of courage. The courage we don't have quite yet.

    I often do my schoolwork alone. Most of the kids are in 7th and 8th grade. I'm in 5th. But today, Sarah joins me. She's in 6th grade, so it is harder for her to keep up with the older kids and their advanced pre-algebra and Shakespeare or whatever they are learning. Savannah is too, but she's in the accelerated courses.

     "You know, that was brave what you shared. I don't dare to share that deep of a story," Sarah tells me.

     "Thanks, Sarah. You're brave too. We're all brave," I say back, giggling at the end. I am bouncing in my chair as I finish my schoolwork and lunch. I feel a lot closer to Sarah after that. We all feel closer.

     We are let go early tonight. I think we all need some time to process. But she tells us she is concerned that we aren't using our faces enough to tell the story. I knew I was doing fine but make sure to add more.

     My thoughts have stayed dormant the entire day, and that is progress.

     Ms. Abby hasn't fat-shamed yet, and she is a lot nicer than the previous seasons. I practice my routines at home, making sure my technique is perfect and the tiny imperfections are gone.

     I have sushi tonight. It is my favorite. I watch a Barbie movie, which was my favorite type of movie when I was a child. I talk to my Dad and Caden tonight as well before I go to bed. Everything's gone right tonight. Is the pain finally over for good?

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