His Tiny Dancer [COMPLETED]

XIV

~Saturday January 8th~

I hold in a groan as I turn off the blaring alarm on my phone, noticing the time: seven o'clock on a Saturday morning. Normally I wake up at six for school, so this is an improvement - especially with the sunrise peeking through my curtains - but sometimes I wish I could spend my Saturday mornings like a normal teenager, sleeping. Nevertheless, after a few minutes of fighting to keep my eyes open while I get caught up on the notifications on my phone, I emerge from my warm comforter to start my morning.

Every Saturday morning, I am one of the first to arrive at the dance studio. The first pre-school class starts at eight-thirty, so I usually try to get there by eight-fifteen. I pull my hair back into a neat bun that will have to last all day long, then select some clean pink tights, a leotard, and leggings with a sweatshirt to go on top. I brush my teeth and apply a little bit of mascara before heading downstairs.

Mom worked a long shift last night, which means that she is currently in a heavy sleep - I can hear her snoring from across the house. Given this, I'm the only one awake right now. I try to make my breakfast as quietly as I can, even though I know mom is a heavy sleeper.

My drive to the studio is about twenty minutes long, and consists of me attempting to sing along to the old Taylor Swift songs blasting from my phone into the car's speakers - and failing at it, might I add. As Riley and I would say, there's a reason why we're dancers - not singers. I turn the volume way down when I near the studio though. I can never tell if people can hear my music from outside of the car or not, and I've got a reputation to keep up here, so I play it safe and keep it low just in case. No need for everyone to know I'm a die-hard young Taylor Swift fan.

Walking into the lobby at exactly eight fifteen, I find Miss Erica sitting behind the front desk. We greet each other as I walk through the door, and as I look around I find that none of the students have arrived quite yet. But, as I'm taking off my shoes and socks and trading them in for ballet slippers, the students begin to trickle in. I greet each child with a smile or a hello, and they all respond shyly.

The first class consists of three two-year-olds, who are adorable, to say the least. This class is extra interesting because one of the students is a boy. Of course in the professional dance world and even in the upper levels at our own studio, ballet dancers who are boys aren't rare. But, as far as little kids go, ninety-nine percent of them are girls. Jonas is our exception. Since this is the youngest class, this is his first year, but he seems to be really enjoying it.

Just Jonas alone isn't the exciting part, though.

For the past few Saturdays, we've had a budding relationship in our eight-thirty class. Jonas and a little girl named April have been spending most of the class together for the past few weeks, from standing next to each other in line to holding hands every once in a while. Miss Erica and I think it's the most adorable thing in the world, to say the least, but I'm not sure the same can be said about April's father. Judging by his expression in the lobby while class is going on, I get the idea that he doesn't particularly like that he already has to worry about his daughter hanging out with boys, even at two years old.

After two more groups of students, I have a quick lunch break before it's time for my own class. After setting up the barres about the studio, myself and the other girls in my level still have five minutes before Miss Marie will begin class, so we take to chatting amongst ourselves. Riley, standing at her usual spot by my side, turns to me.

"Hey, you're halfway through senior year now, do you know what you're doing after graduation?" I sigh, talking about after high school isn't exactly my favorite subject. Most students just apply for colleges and pick the school they like the most out of the ones they get into, but I have a lot more worrying to do than just that.