𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐗 𝐎𝐂 - 𝐓𝐍𝐒

02

Ava got up extra early today as her alarm rang at 5:15. She quickly jumped out of bed and into the shower. Today were regional auditions for A-troupe and she needed to get in.

The brunette had funny superstitions for mornings before auditions: she unpacked and repacked her bag three times exactly, every time checking the list her dads had written out for her. Next, she got into her outfit, slipping into a light blue leotard and pulling some black shorts over the top. Then, she looked into her mirror, spinning around three times and patting herself down, she could move onto her hair.

Ava had special hairstyles for special events like auditions. She would do two Dutch braids joining together at the back to form a long pony tail. Dad number 1, Raymond, had always said plaited hair was a sign of good luck and the girl stuck to that ever since.

Ava put on a blue zip up hoodie over the top, careful not to mess up her braids as she did so, then put on a pair of black Nike trainers. "I'm ready!" she called as she ran down the stairs her bag hanging over one shoulder.

The Dempsey family house was far from extravagant it was an average, middle class, two-story home in Toronto about a couple miles from the studio.

Ava's little brother Arlo was the whole world to the dancer, he was part of the reason she got out of bed in the morning. Just to see that big toothy grin on his face. The 5 year old young boy was not a dancer like her sister, but he was just as talented in other things. Such as, baseball. Arlo had a mean swing under his wing, once giving Frank a bloody nose when he hit the ball too hard at the age of 4. Afterwards, Frank had constantly said he was not built for sports and Ava was sure he'd be sticking to that from now on.

"Where are you going?" Arlo asked greeting the girl at the bottom of the stairs in his Spider-Man pyjamas.

"She's going to absolutely smash an audition today," Raymond said a huge smile plastered on his face, grabbing his car keys and scooping the boy up in his arms. "When do you need to be there?" he asked as Frank ran into the hallway.

Ava looked down at her phone, "15 minutes and 37 seconds," she said swaying back and forward on the balls of her feet. The two men liked to make sure their daughter was early for her dance doings as they knew how stressed she could get and being late was not going to help anyone.

"We better get going," Frank said unlocking the door as Raymond clicked their blue car open.

The whole drive to the studio Ava's leg was bouncing up and down like Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. All she could think about was all the possible outcomes that could come from the audition.
1. She could freeze, just stop dancing, I front of all the amazing dancers auditioning for A-troupe.
2. She could fall or trip, which would be incredibly embarrassing. What are you meant to do when you find yourself flat on the floor after a failed backflip?
3. She might not make it in, being moved down from A-troupe to B-troupe might just make the girl quit dance entirely.
4. Or, she could smash it. Go out there and blow everyone away. Hopefully, this was the outcome of today.

Twenty five percentage chance of a good outcome, she could live with that. Expect disappointment, then you can never really be disappointed.

"Do you want us to come in with you, honey?" dad number two Frank said turning back to face the two kids in the backseats. The two men were always slightly worried their children would be embarrassed of them. The amount of homophobia in this world is disgraceful. Raymond and Frank never let a single comment hit their skin, but they couldn't live with their own children not wanting them around. "I think I'm good," Ava said grabbing her blue duffel bag off the floor. "I know my way in."

"Dont worry," Frank reassured looking at his daughter through the rolled down window. "You're gonna kill it."

"What do we always say, Arlo?" the other man said looking to the small child in the back. "Aim for the moon, if you miss, you may hit a star," the small boy recited looking up at the ceiling in concentration.