light headed | boyxboy

veinticuatro|24|vingt-quatre

"now"

i nod and pull out my shoes, replaying the routine in my head. i have not warmed up, and i'm not willing to ask mrs marigold if she will allow me. she sits on a wooden chair at the front of the room like it's her throne, eyes like snakes. i glance away while yanking on my second shoe, noticing levi. the boy is peeking through the small window of the door i came through. he grins encouragingly, holding up his chupetin. i've done this routine a million times, what could go wrong?

i take my place in the middle of the room before mrs marigold gives me the signal. as the music begins, i close my eyes, trying not to hold my breath. the first step is the hardest, not because it's complicated, but because it hits me that this is it for the audition. the next comes a millisecond after, flutes and oboes compiling to portray the graceful dance of the swan. straight back, delicate hands, long neck.

it's just coming up to the part of the dance where the movement becomes more dramatic and much less fragile. i prepare myself for the series of pirouettes and leaps, sinking further into the music when it cuts. the only sound in the studio is my breathing. frozen in a chaîné turn, i look to mrs marigold, confused.

"w-what's wrong?"

mrs marigold scowls at me, her expression harder than stone.

"get out", i falter immediately as she utters the words and points to the door.

"par...pardon?", my shoulders slump slightly and i'm ripped out of the bubble of dance i had formed. i stare at the old witch, wondering whether she's truly serious.

"i should have known you were a waste of time", marigold shakes her head and stands up, turning off the sound system with a shatteringly casual flick. i let out a breath of shock.

"you didn't like it? i can do something differe-"

"enough, jacques. tell your mother to call in and find a ballet teacher less formidable than i, will you? miss dana does twelve-year-old classes on a wednesday if you're interested", her tone is somewhat of a joke. my eyes brim with tears in muddled bewilderment.

the door bangs open and i jump. through the mirrors at the front, i see levi and liv storm into the studio.

"that's not fair, isla", levi growls at marigold. the witch cocks her head to the side, eyebrows so far up they're like tiny, thin carets. levi continues,

"you didn't even let him finish the dance"

my hands are shaking, out of shock or frustration or anger, i don't know. liv is at my side, her hand on the small of my back. i'm uncomfortable, yet comfortable due to the fact that i hardly know this girl: i don't know what to think.

"levi, the dance wasn't to my standards. end of discussion", isla marigold snaps. the dark haired boy doesn't flinch.

"give it, i don't know, a month! i'll teach him myself", levi insists, throwing his hands up into the air, one hand holding his chupetin still. i blink. him? teach me?

"i can help", liv adds. she smiles at me and then turns back to marigold. "it doesn't even have to be swan lake"

isla marigold, the woman who looks and sounds like the equivalent of a witch gives me a long look of dislike. when she turns back to levi, i see a moment of weakness, of what only can be described as temporary humanity. she sighs.

"one month. impress me, jacques de caliente"

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hope everyone had a good christmas, or whatever you celebrate this time of year !
i deleted two of my books impulsively :( but i'm happy for a fresh start.