MANCHILD
'noun'
"A boy or adolescent from the streets who was prematurely exposed to and knowledgeable about sex, violence and crime, incarceration, adult responsibility for younger siblings due to a dysfunctional home, and hustling to make a living...
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4 WEEKS LATER
"Relevez vos pieds!"
Madame Deveraux yelled as I continued my fouetté turns. I was sweating hard as hell because she had been working me non-stop since my first practice some days ago. I was currently preparing for a surprise exhibition that all the Julliard initiates were supposed to attend. It was in New York City and I was extremely nervous about it.
"Plus haute! Soulevez plus haut!" She ordered as I lifted my leg higher as I spun. My feet were killing me, but I continued until I had reached 100 and she told me to stop. I put my hands on my knees, panting as Madame Deveraux examined me. "You're winded." She said in English.
"Yes ma'am." I said between breaths. She was trying to kill me, I swear. I had just got finished doing 100 turns because apparently I'd been slacking on my routine. "Do I need to do more?" I asked.
Madame Deveraux looked at me with her glasses perched on her face. "I should make you do more, no?" She asked me. Dead bitch walking. "Have you been smoking?" She asked me suddenly. My head snapped in her direction as my heart began to beat faster than it already was. "You seem a lot more breathy than normal."
My smoking habits have picked up a lot more since being with Kentrell. It's not like he was forcing me to do it, so I definitely wasn't blaming him. However, my smoking has significantly increased and every time I did smoke it was when I was with him. I didn't want to let her know that though. I was for sure that it wouldn't be a problem, but apparently it was noticeable to my dance instructor.
"No." I lied.
She eyed me in disbelief. "Hmph." She huffed before continuing. "You are picking up more weight as well." She circled me slowly, her eyes trailing on my thighs and stomach. "Beautiful but your weight is making you sloppy."
Biting the inside of my cheek, I kept my eyes forward and nodded my head. I was used to this type of criticism, having dealt with it since I first started dancing at 4 years old. However, Madame Deveraux and I had a great relationship, so her saying this to me meant that she was pointing something out that I needed to pay attention to. Something important.
