The second those sharp words leave my ex-best friend's lips, I blink rapidly, trying my best not to cry. I go through the rest of the school day in a blur, not seeing anything, not hearing anything, and trying my best not to feel anything. I feel a huge twinge of relief as the bell rings at 2:35 signaling the end of the school day.
"What's wrong?" My mother asks as I step into her silver Toyota Camry.
"Nothing." Was my false answer as I threw my black school bag on the floor of the front seat, and fastened my seat belt. She handed me my grey and pink dance bag, and that's when my troubles first started to subside. She started driving all the way from my school in Moanalua to Kaimuki to make it in time for my dance class.
She pulled up in the parking lot, and the second the car stopped I opened the door and ran. The old and large front door of The Movement Center, a place where I've been going for dance for about 9 years now, creaked as I opened it and I immediately went into the bathroom to change for practice. I stared blankly at the bathroom walls that were covered in cold pink tile as I pulled on my pink tights and a maroon leotard. Fastening my black ballet skirt, I walked outside past the long main hallway and ventured inside the front office.
Aunty Colleen, my good friend Kiana's mother, was sitting at her place behind a polished wood desk as the studio's manager, and she greated me with a warm hello just as she did every day I came here. My friends sprung up from their places sitting on the fold-up chairs that filled the front office and gave me a huge hug. They told me about the latest news going on in their lives as my eyes ventured off through the clear glass sliding doors to see inside the studio. I see Mrs. Carolyn acting giddy as she teaches the little kids with her light brown hair swept up and her bangs poofed. She's the perfect example for a ballerina.
Finally, it's time for my class. My Gaynor pointe shoe covered feet hit the grey/blue marly covered floors and I feel the cool breeze coming in from the two open windows in the front of the studio right above the huge front mirror split apart by thick grey pillars. I smelt a mix of sweat from the previous dancers, deodorant, and multiple types of body spray. We pull out three barres from the row of them at the left of the studio into the middle, and the level D1 and D2 ballerinas take their place on them.
Once the slow music for warmups start, I forget everything. I forget that my social life at school might be falling apart. I forget that I have a pile of homework assignments all line up and waiting for me when I get home. I forget that I've just recently lost my best friend. I forget any sort of problem I have. When I'm dancing in that little studio, lined with mirrors and blue mats stacked up to the ceiling and benches so parents can watch inside, it's just me and the music.
"Turn out Eryn." Ms. Chansri instructs me, standing by the huge speakers in the left back corner of the studio. She has all of her brown hair pulled up in a tight bun. If Ms. Carolyn is the picture perfect example of a ballerina, then Ms. Chansri is that example of a ballet teacher. She stands at only about 5'2, but her presence fills the whole entire room. I look behind her at the mid-sized white board that was her self proclaimed "Inspiration Board". Every inch of it was covered in different color expo markers with dance quotes and tips. "I don't dance to win, or to be the best, or to be famous. I dance for me." is the newest quote on there, and one of my favorites now.
It's the most satisfying thing when we do a combination in front of the mirror and all you can see is around fourteen dancers dancing in perfect synchronization. Every pointed toe, every releve onto our pointe shoes, every piroette lands and hits together like we're one.
This is why I love to dance. I can be in the worst mood ever from boy problems, family problems, friend problems, school problems, and everything you can think of. But that all changes when I enter the studio. Just feeling the love for the dance in all of the dancers faces and movements and seeing Mrs. Carolyn and Ms. Chansri's encouraging faces, nothing matters but the next step in my routine. And I like it perfectly that way.
I've grown up in this studio. It's my home away from home. I can think about all of my problems later. Right now, I'm a ballerina and TMC is my stage.
