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June 1, 2010
By Kayla Bigelow BRONZE, Montclair, New Jersey
Kayla Bigelow BRONZE, Montclair, New Jersey
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Blood coursed through my veins every nerve in my tingled and my feet smacked the ground as I pranced across the stage. It was nothing but me and the music (and hundreds of people screaming my name).

Monday, 11:00 p.m.-
“Mom, you home?” I called as I tiptoed tentatively through my family’s stuffy apartment. The lights suddenly flicked on:

“Where the hell have you been, girl?” My mom said her words dripping with hate. “It is 11 o’clock on a school night!”

“I know but it’s really not that big of a deal! Look I even brought home my first paycheck. Just calm down! God,” I yelled shimmying out of my jacket.

“Who do you think you are speaking to me that way? I had not a clue where you were! For all I knew you could have been dead!”

“Whatever,” I mumbled as I barreled past her headed for my room.

Sometimes I hated her, I really did. I knew she meant well deep down—deep deep down—but it was just hard. My dad died when I was young and from then on my family had, had trouble making ends meet. I worked two afterschool jobs myself to help out, but most of the money went to my dance. Dancing’s my passion and all I care about. No one understands me, though, in this family. My mom thinks I’m a screw-up (all her other children are ivy league scholars). My mom banned dancing from my life about two months ago. I’ve been doing it in secret every since.
Tuesday, 2:00 p.m.-

“Shay,” Ms. Dorian said as she passed out report cards.

“Here!” I called as I took the manila folder from her hand and shoved it in my bag.

“How’d ya do, Shay?” My best-friend Lina asked me.

“Fine,” I immediately responded when the truth was I hadn’t even glanced at the thing and wasn’t planning on in until I was well out of the building. “What about you?”

“Same. Mostly As and Bs.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow, Lina,” I said smiling, as I began to walk out of the school to the abandoned warehouse.

The streets of the city were louder than usual and my backpack weighed ten pounds heavier, I didn’t even want to imagine my grades. My life revolved around school and work, but I was bad at both. My only true talent was dancing. I quickly ran up the steps of the empty, dusty old warehouse and made my way to the middle floor. I’d found this spot a couple weeks ago and fallen in love. The place was surrounded by mirrors and light poured in from windows at every corner. The place reminded me of something out of a musical.

I then turned my iPod on; music slowly began to pour through the speakers I moved my thin hips to the beat and snapped my neck to the left. My curly black hair flew in front of my eyes, as my nerves jolted and I flew through the air. It was just me and the music. I was in the zone. I rolled my shoulders back and pointed my toe, before I threw it backward and grabbed it with my hand. Nothing could ruin this moment.

“What on Earth is going on here? I am so sorry, sir. I had no idea the building wasn’t locked up,” a man in a suit said to another man.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, as I grabbed my coat and rushed to the door.

“Wait,” the other man said. “Where’d you learn to dance like that?”

“I taught myself,” I said, blushing.

“I’m Jensen Roberts with “Dancers Incorporated”, I’d be honored if you’d consider auditioning.”

My mom threw a rose up at me with a smile as I took a dainty bow, while the crowd went crazy.

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