silent

21

• AMALIA •

My dad isn't here yet. He isn't here, and there are only two more dances before me. What if he doesn't get here? I want him to see me dance. I need him to see me dance.

     I peek out of the curtains again. Elijah is sitting in the middle row with Kiera, and he's typing quickly on his phone. I bite my nail, jumping when someone taps me on the shoulder.

     It's Ollie.

     "Hey." He smiles. "Are you ready?"

     I nod, but the nerves from earlier are returning.

     His eyes crease with concern. "What's wrong? You look like you're on the verge of tears." He laughs, but it's more worried than anything. Why is he worried? I don't want anyone to be worried about me.

I shake my head quickly, smiling. He seems to relax. The dance on right now ends, and applause erupts from the theatre. I peek out the curtains again. My dad still isn't there. It's just Elijah and Kiera. There's only one more number—

"Do you mind if I watch your solo?" He asks me, a hint of nervousness in his tone.

I shake my head again, lips titling up. He looks relieved. "Okay. Great."

Without talking again, we both look towards the girl dancing right now. Her technique is flawless, as well as her facial expressions. She looks like a professional. What if I look like a fool on stage? What if I—

Silently, Ollie takes my hand. I don't hold his back, letting mine be fisted inside his, grateful for the momentary feeling of peace before I go out onto a stage and potentially humiliate myself.

The girls music is almost over when the double doors in the back of the theatre open and I see my dads brown hair and my grandmothers grey hair. She's standing next to a tall, black haired man with an intimidating stare I don't want to be on the receiving end of. I think he's my granddad, but I'm not sure. I smile as I see my older brothers follow them down to where Elijah is sitting—all of my brothers apart from Grayson and Cole. I frown, maybe they didn't want to come—

     Grayson and Cole walk through the doors, popcorn in one hand and drinks in the other. A man in the audience scowls at them and seems to say "sit down!"

     I'm pretty sure Cole responds with, "bite me" before sitting down.

     "Number fifty four, please welcome Amalia to the stage with To Build A Home." A voice booms over the loud speakers. My eyes widen.

     "Go, quick! You're gonna do great!" Ollie says, leading me to the side of the stage.

     I inhale a deep breath before walking out, the light blinding me so much as I take my first position that I have to squint.

     Here goes nothing.

• LORENZO •

I get my camera out and begin recording as soon as they say Amalia's name, but she doesn't come on right away. I immediately think the worst: is she okay? Is she upset? Is she sick?

     But then she walks on, graceful as ever with a nervous smile plastered on her face and her eyes slightly squinted. I don't blame her—how do the directors of dance competitions expect little kids to dance when the sun is practically above them?

     Then the music starts, and I grin as she begins to dance. I knew she was good, the pictures Elijah sent me a few weeks ago proved that, but actually watching her, it's like she's dance herself. It's like the moves she's performing are her, parts of her so deeply imbedded that they'll never be removed. My eyes water because I don't blink; missing even a moment of her dancing would be horrible. I feel bad for everyone in the world who isn't watching her right now. What sad lives they must live.