lovestruck † hs

Chapter 50

Rachel's POV

"No, try again," she tells me, emotionless. She sounds like a broken record. Waiting beside the CD player, my teacher appears more impatient than ever.

I sigh out of frustration. It's already the fifth time she's made me do this, and it's gotten old. "Yes, Miss Wendy."

I have to obey.

The music goes back on and I get in ready position to redo the same move that really isn't all hard. I get on my toes, lift my leg up high to my head, spin around once, do a small run jump, and end with a pirouette. It's merely a small section in this three minute or so dance routine that is only tricky to blend into the hip hop contemporary mix, having to transition between the two types of dance in seconds. I've done it at home, practiced a lot in front of the mirror, my cousins, and even Harry, who all say I did excellently. My teacher, on the other hand, thinks I'm failing this, all of it. She's been so rude and moody the past week, which is stressing me.

"No! Stop!" Miss Wendy demands. She shuts the song off, crossing her arms as I get out of position.

"I'm sorry," I apologize for most likely the seventh time in just this session of night practice. Dance should not be a source of frustration for me, I have enough of it. It's my way of letting go. I swear, I should have been done with night practices a while ago. I only missed a week from my foot injury, yet I've done this for weeks, on top of regularly scheduled classes too. It's basically like I've doubled my classes; I'm pretty sure I should be caught up then. She's made me come to practice the last three nights, and even though I know she's graciously decided to give me tomorrow off, her mood is way abnormal.

My dance teacher starts toward me. "Rachel, I'm done with apologies. Lately you constantly lose your balance, or you don't lift correctly, or your pirouettes are absolutely messy, or you just don't even seem to pay attention. Don't even get me started on how you attempt the hip hop routine, and you've become worse at your transitions. What got into you? Do you even care?"

Her words take me by surprise, and I feel hurt. Do I really screw up all that?

"Miss, I'm—"

"Save it," she silences me. "Practice is over anyway. I'll see you again and text you when the next one is. Remember to inform me when you are leaving, I'll be here cleaning up and gathering my things."

I walk over toward my bag and pick up my jacket, putting it on. "Thank you, Miss Wendy. My ride should be here. I'll see you soon."

She nods, acknowledging my goodbye as I exit the studio. Hopefully Harry is already here to pick me up, I need his encouragement right now.

Sure enough, right when I exit the studio's doors, Harry is waiting in front of them, his car parked behind him by the curb.

"Hey, how was practice?" Harry immediately takes my dance bag, slinging it around his shoulder to carry for me, then bringing me in for a hug. I take in his presence and smile. I haven't seen him in nearly two days. When he texted me offering to get me from practice, I was thrilled.

"Practice was horrible." I confess, returning back to reality after the hug I can always count on.

Harry pulls back from the hug but keeps his hands on mine, "It was? How?"

I can't help but get emotional, I am sick of being treated like I am such a bad person. "Miss Wendy is so harsh on me, harsher than ever. Every little slip up, it's like a huge penalty. I get treated without respect, no encouragement, just blunt disappointment. It's not just during the private night practices, even the day ones with everyone else, she calls me out more than them. It's so embarrassing.."