It's the finale of Dancemania and the stakes are high. A-troupe verses Richelle, and J-cruise, and only one of them can win. Both of them have worked so hard and sacrificed so much to get here. Who will win? And what will it mean for the other?
An...
We were a week into rehearsing. We were still working on choreographing an eleven person dance. Taking bits of choreo from one competition and another to make the ultimate opening dance.
Kingston and I were sat in Latte Love eating croissants and scrolling through Twitter. It was flooded with more rumours of Dancemania, however, these no longer brought the same burden they would have a couple of days ago.
A person approached me from behind. "Can I have ten dollars?" It was Izzy.
"Why?" I asked.
"I want a pain au chocolate." I rolled my eyes, before pulling out a ten-dollar bill.
"Bring back the change." No reply.
"What's up with her?" Kingston asked. He was no longer interested in his phone.
"She's been in a funk ever since found out only A-troupe would be going on tour."
"All of B-troupe would, I imagine." That was true. None of the B-troupers looked happy when Michelle suggested only A-troupe would be following her on tour.
"Yeah, well they get to go to Nationals and most of them aren't even 18 yet." Kingston nodded. I glanced at my watch. Our break was nearly over.
"You ready to go?" I asked.
"Yeah." He scrunched up his paper cup like a ball and aimed for the bin. Some guy got in his way, the cup accidentally hitting him. We both ducked underneath the table in unison, hoping we hadn't drawn any attention to ourselves.
We failed at doing so. The guy turned around to reveal a disgustingly familiar face. We both poked our heads back up.
"Jones!" I yelled out louder than I should have.
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"What is he doing here?" Kingston asked. Jones laughed menacingly. You would think that us beating him at Dancemania, and my fantastic resurrection solo, would finally put him in his place.
"Hi, Kinston. Hi Ozzy." Neither of us said hi back, but rather just stared him down.
"Do you guys want an answer to that question or was it rhetorical?" He asked.
"It was rhetorical," I said at the same time Kingston said, "We want an answer."
We looked at each other and came to a silent conclusion.
"We want an answer," we said this in sync.
"Well, your studio head has been keeping you in the dark."
"What does that mean?" I asked. "And that wasn't rhetorical."
"It couldn't have been- never mind. What I mean is I'm here to audition for your twelfth spot on the tour." He held out a little flyer that had TNS's logo on and the details needed to audition.
