Lift // Hamliza

• chapter 2 •

• Eliza •

"Come on, Eliza! Higher, higher, higher!" Angelica said, clapping to the counts of the music. I lifted my leg higher, keeping my hips square and my hand lightly on the barre.

"You can do it! Nose to knee, Eliza!" She yelled, as my leg kept moving higher and higher. There's my pointed toes, swooping to the side, all the way up by my ear. Carefully, once my leg was fully extended, I wrapped my hand around it and took my left hand off the bar, raising fully onto pointe and doing an effortless triple turn, leg still raised. I smiled a little as Angelica cheered for me.

Slowly lowering my leg, I went into my left split and began talking to Angelica.

"Was it good?" I asked. She rolled her eyes playfully, leaning against the barre.

"Good? Eliza, that was probably the best you've done on something like that. I knew you could do it." I blushed a little from the praise, and came up gracefully from the ground.

"Wanna go check on Peggy?" I asked Angelica, sliding a light blue sweater on over my black leotard and pink skirt. She nodded and turned the music off, and we walked to the door connecting the room I used to dance to Peggy's.

I heard her before I saw her. Peggy was a beautiful tap dancer, though I would never be able to perfect it. I was good, but not nearly as good as Peggy. She didn't hear us come in and continued to tap her feet with the music, fast and agile. The song ended and she turned around, jumping when she saw us.

"That was great, Peggy!" I said.

"Coulda done better, but I'm ok with it for now." She said, pushing the curls that were in her face out of the way and retied her hair into a messy ponytail.

"Well, I dunno about you two, but I'm starving. Wanna go get Subway?" Angie asked. Peggy laughed and I nodded, both of us telling her to give us a sec to change.

We left Peggy's yellow walled studio and went to the bathroom down the hallway.

Oh, in case you were wondering, we're in our house.

Angie, Peggy and I have been dancing since we were babies, hardly able to speak. Our father, who was a wealthy senator, had three small rooms put in specially for us to dance in. One for each of us. That was where I spent almost all my time when I was home. Dance was my passion. I loved it more than almost anything.

I slipped out of my leotard and tights and pulled on a pair of gray leggings and the sweater I had thrown on over my leo. I tucked my pointe shoes away carefully and slid on fuzzy socks and some Ugg boots. The cubbies in what we called the "dance hallway" were home to my dance bag, so I tossed that in there. I walked outside and opened the car door, where Angie was already awaiting me.

Five minutes later, Peggy emerged from the house, wearing light ripped jeans, combat boots and a black and yellow flannel. She clambered into the backseat with a frown.

"Liza, I thought it was my turn to sit in the front." I turned around and said,

"On the way back." She smiled contently with my answer and focused on her phone. I plugged mine into the AUX cord and turned on our musical playlist.

Peggy gasped as "Seasons of Love" from RENT came on.

We sang the whole was to Subway, only pausing when the song changed or it was a sad one that we always cried at and we had to wipe away our tears.

This was my life. Musicals and dance, sisters and random trips to Subway. I was content.