The week goes by in a blink. Everything seems calm for now since the club activities hadn't started yet. I still haven't met the other representatives of first years but I've seen the two guys—Rhett and Atlas—throw looks at me. Ana's a friend of Jude's but I don't sit with her during lunches, mostly because how loud all of them are.

On friday, there's finally something interesting.

There's a public ping on the tablet, tagging all the first year dance students.

WELCOME TO REDVILLE DANCE, FIRST YEARS! ALL DANCE STUDENTS TO BE PRESENT AT THE MAIN AUDIOTORIUM AT 16.00 HOURS SHARP FOR THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR EVALUATION. PENALTIES WILL BE IMPOSED ON LATECOMERS. GOOD LUCK!

This is exactly why I'm standing on the stage of the auditorium with nineteen other students. I'm wearing my dance kit—a tank top and gym shorts, the same pair I wore during my auditions. It's on purpose, of course. Most of the students around me are confused, though they have no reason to be. All three head dance instructors—Valeria, Park and Neora—are standing in front of us. Some homeroom teachers sit at the back, and all the dance seniors sit in the back rows. I spot Lily Davis and Summer Laurent amongst them, and also all the other members of Red Primas and some minor dance groups.

Looking around, I notice there are a lot of other students as well, curious to know what's going to go down here. Some are sitting in the gallery as well. I'd say I'm nervous to know what's going to happen but I'm not. I have no stage experience because I chose it—but that never meant that I'm afraid of standing in front of a crowd and doing something I'm confident about.

"Good morning, students," the first instructor says. She's tall, her blond hair is dyed blue from the tips and is sprawled across her shoulders. She's wearing a simple blue top and a black jeans. There's an annoyingly wide smile on her face. "So, you're the lucky twenty students who've been enlisted into the dance program of this year. I'm Valeria, your dance instructor for the next three years here at Redville. You'll gain a lot of experience in these years and you'll polish your skills. And if you need any advice, we're always here to help."

"I thought the classes weren't supposed to start until monday," one of the guys say. He's Leo–I know him because he's my classmate. He's tried to talk to me a few times only to get me to send my homework to him.

Valeria shoots him a simple look. "This isn't a class. It's an introduction. All your seniors here are going to watch you, assess you and see what level all of you are at. During the first month of your training, you'll be practicing among the first years and after that, a lot of joint training sessions will be held with your seniors. When you're here, in the club, dancing, forget about your houses for once. Of course, your performance here would affect your rankings but that's a matter for a different day. Being good isn't the only thing that's going to keep your ranks up, you get it?"

She checks her watch, a satisfied smile on her face.

"We're right on schedule. I'm going to explain you what you're here for. It's very simple, honestly. All of you—" he pauses for a dramatic touch, eyeing each one of us carefully, "—will be performing your audition acts today. Here. Right now."

"Our audition acts? What the fuck—" Emma Lane begins but she's immediately cut off by Valeria.

"We recorded all your acts that day. Most of you did a pretty impressive job with it considering you had to come up with it in ten minutes. So, here's how it's gonna go down. We'll play your recording back on the stage. Your song will be played along with your recording. You won't get any time to see the video. If you forget it, look back and try to remember. But if you do that," she points towards the seniors sitting at the back, "They will see it. Trust me, you don't want to have a bad impression on them."

I don't have to look at the others to know what their reaction is.

"That was over a month ago!"

"How do you expect us to remember something that old?"

"That's bullshit."

"Wait, can you repeat it? Sorry."

"This is plain unfair."

Valeria listens to the first year dance students break into chaos. Her expression is calm, as if she expected this to happen. It takes about three minutes for the first years to settle down. Everyone realises how the instructor is giving them stern looks and a look of genuine confusion and curiosity settles on their faces.

Once the mutters die down, Valeria lets out a breath. "Great. So you're all done now? Let's begin."

"B-but," someone interrupts again, "what's the point of this? Like, why are we going over a choreography we did over a month ago. It was rough and rushed and-"

"So you're saying that you'll forget a routine once the performance is over?" The sentence alone silences everyone and I swear I can hear the breath of the people around me. Valeria smiles satisfactorily. "No objections? Great. Get off the stage. The first one is... Iris Hart. We're gonna go from the lowest to highest. Fifty seconds, alright? Everyone off the stage and seat yourselves anywhere you want. Just come up here the moment your name is called."

The girl who's standing next to me freezes. She's Iris Hart. I'm pretty sure she's in Rhett's class.

I'm the first one to get off the stage. The others follow and seat themselves in different corners of the auditorium. I hear someone say that they don't even remember the song they danced to, which gets a small laugh out of me. I walk to the empty section of the auditorium and seat myself next to the wall, my head resting against it.

Iris stands at the centre of the stage nervously and she tries her best to hide it but her posture gives it away. She's biting her nails to avoid running off the stage. Her face clearly says that she doesn't remember a thing from the audition. The video behind her loads and I hear Valeria speak into the mic. "You ready, kid?"

Iris just nods slightly. She changes her posture, looking back at the video to match it with the starting point. The music plays and I see Iris flinch. Her song's a great one—it's pretty easy to catch on. She was lucky to draw the chit with an instrumental version of Maria by Hwa Sa. She gets the first ten seconds almost correct. Her moves have a lot of acrobatics but they're very sloppy compared to the video clip behind her.

She somehow survives the first half of it but the last twenty seconds went crashing down when she froze, confused about what she's supposed to do. Her expression has dropped and she looks like she's about to break down then and there but she turns around to look at the video and catches the last move correctly. I'm genuinely surprised she got that right but then she runs off the stage in embarrassment.

None of the instructors make any comments.

"If I was in Valeria's place," an unfamiliar voice speaks up from behind me, catching me off guard and I jump up, sitting straight and looking behind me. Nathan Andrews sits behind me in his casual clothes. He has dark hair, his eyes a hazy gray. He has a rather lean built, a small smile pasted on his face. "I'd give her two on ten. One for remembering the first half and the other for her comeback move in the last second. Otherwise, she's pretty shit."

His eyes finally flick to mine and I sigh, facing the stage again and leaning against the wall.

"What, you're not gonna introduce yourself?" he says to me in a playful tone.

"I'm pretty sure you already know who I am."

"Not so humble, huh?" I hear a thud on the seat next to mine. Nathan is keeping his foot on the chair and jumping in my row, sitting down with a heavy sigh. He flashes me a grin. "But true, I do know who you are. Aren't you going to ask me my name?"

"I know who you are, Nathan."

The next person is on the stage now, the video loading in the background.

"It's Nate, actually," he says. "Nathan's a boring name. Nate's better."

I don't reply. I keep my focus on the guy on the stage, who's doing better than Iris. His moves are sharper and quicker, matching the music faster than Iris'. The video behind him is still better, though, but it's still decent enough since he's doing this dance after a month without any revision. Fifty seconds later, he's done and walking off the stage. Valeria calls the next person and the auditorium is engulfed in the momentary silence once again.

"You're really not going to talk to me, are you?" Nate asks me. The feeling of his eyes on me sends chills down my spine. His hand's resting on the same armrest as mine and though we're not touching each other, I can still feel his body heat on my skin.

I don't look at him when I say, "Not if there's nothing to talk about."

He lets out a laugh. "Why don't you ask me why I'm here?"

"What if I don't?"

"Try it."

I click my tongue, annoyed. I lean back, finally looking at him. "Why are you here, Nate?"

"I'm here to talk to you," he simply says, "and I'm here to see you perform. It's just not me, honestly. You see all these people here?" He pauses, making me look around and see all the students standing at exits, bored. "They're here for you. No one else."

I scoff. "More like people are hoping to see me fail and convince themselves that I'm useless and worse than them. And this is shade towards you, by the way."

He stares at me for a while, then breaks into a smile. It isn't like the ones he's shown me before. It's the smile that would make people feel uneasy, the one that tells me that he's up to something but no one else knows why. But I don't feel anything when I look at him. He looks at me the same way Asher had when I'd first met him—with fascination, like I'm someone he can play mind games with. What neither of them know is that I've done my homework before coming here and if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that I am smarter than them. If they keep up with this, it's all going to backfire on them, just the way I want it to.

"You're right. I'm here to watch you fail," he admits. "And I'm counting on it. But if you don't, I hope you don't disappoint."

"Watch me, Nate. I'm sure I won't disappoint."

"We'll see," he simply states and looks back at the stage.

When I'm sure that he won't speak again, I lean against the wall once again, waiting for my turn to approach. I try to cancel out the music around me and picture myself on the day of the audition. I remember the song. I remember the beats by heart. The beats sync with the moves I performed. They weren't complicated. They were just random pieces that happened to fit together at the last moment.

I don't know how long I'm sitting like that. When I open my eyes, a guy named Zed is performing a simple hip hop routine on an electronic beat. It doesn't match the video behind him at all but he looks like he's having fun and his moves in general seem more refined than before. I catch Valeria smiling in the dark. Maybe she's impressed or maybe she's thinking about how mixed this lot is. Some know nothing while others have managed to understand the point of this evaluation.

I wonder how many times she's went through this same exercise, and I wonder if someone always surprises her after all these years of teaching.

Two dances later, the auditorium goes dark again.

"Harley Kingsley." The speakers echo in the room but I don't move immediately. A good few seconds later, I start to get up but I feel Nate's hand on my shoulder as he leans forward once again. His touch catches me off guard, making my stomach do backflips with the way he's looking at me. It's not me being attracted to him, it's just me enjoying this game they're trying to play with me.

"I hope you don't disappoint, Kingsley," he whispers and a chill goes down my spine. I move forward towards the stage, removing my shoes and socks at the bottom and making my way to the center.

The stage lights up. I see the faces of the people watching me and they're a lot more than before. Some are even coming in right and their expressions are not comforting at all. Asher's here too, watching me intently, here to know if I'm the real deal or not. I even spot Cammy, leaning against one of the exits. I don't try to focus on any of them—the light's too bright for me to see clearly. I shake all the uncomfortable thoughts, closing my eyes to calm the headache that's taking over.

Remember the beats. I tap my feet against the ground, remembering the beat. Sync the moves. In a flash of a second, all the moves go through my mind and a small smile spreads across my lips. And you've got it.

"You ready, Harley?"

Three.

I open my eyes.

Two.

I see Valeria give me a thumbs up before pressing a button on her laptop.

One.

The music rises. I breathe in,

Here we go.

***

I've never stood on a stage before.

Coming to think of it, I've never even dreamt of standing on a stage with all eyes on me as I perform. I've never imagined what it would feel like to stand here. I never considered myself to be good enough because of everything that had happened back at home. My sister is the performer of the family, not me. I'm not born to be a person who attracts attention.

Right now, as I stand here and the music is just beginning to play, time slows down.

It's the first time I'm standing on a stage and I expect to feel something but I feel nothing. I feel empty. I feel like a robot who's just going to do what she does when she's alone in the dance studio in her basement she sneaks into during the nights when her sister is tired. I don't feel nervous at all. My brain has learnt to black out the surroundings and make me feel like I'm dancing in the endless void of my chaotic thoughts that make no sense to me.

I don't think I ever danced for myself. I dance to escape from my thoughts. I dance to not feel the fear that's tingling my neck and crawling under my skin. The fear of my thoughts taking control of me.

It's dark, so dark.

It's suffocating and intolerable.

I'm drowning deeper into it and there's no escape.

"Why do you like dancing so much?" I had asked my sister when I was four and she was six. She started early when she was four and within two years, she was a lot better than people her age. I admired her. She had said that she danced because our parents had wanted her to. There was no choice for her then—it was as if she jumped into the water and never resurfaced afterwards.

A few years later, I asked the same question again. I was seven and she was nine and I had forgotten about the fact that I'd asked the same question before. I'd started to notice the difference in us then - about how we'd never belong in the same league. My parents gave her more attention because she was good at what she did and me? Well, I never tried anything myself and they never made me either.

"When I'm dancing," she had replied that day, "I feel lighter. Like I'm about to fly. You know? Like a bird. It's something that comforts me. And I love it because it makes me feel special."

I understood that it not only made my sister feel better, it also made my parents proud. They loved to brag about their elder daughter so much that it physically hurt my ears. I watched my sister for hours and imitated her and tried my best to become someone everyone would be proud of. I'd used the studio when she wasn't there, and I'd come up with my own moves.

I wanted my parents to see me.

That was my reason to begin dancing in the first place.

But unlike her, I never felt lighter. I never felt like I was flying in the sky like a bird. Instead, it always felt like I'm wrapped in shackles and dancing is the only thing that will help me break through but it never did.

Now that I think about it, dance was my sister's closest possession. Something she could call her own. It was calm to her and chaotic to me. It was her escape. It was her drug. Something she just couldn't stay away from. Something she probably loved more than she ever loved me.

And now she hates it more than anything.

***

My hands are moving on their own.

I'm intoxicated by my thoughts as they erupt inside me, syncing with the music that echoes in my brain. I'm doing what I'm supposed to and I can't think or breathe but everything seems too perfect to me. I'm doing a great job and I know it.

Every beat is a puzzle piece and every step is the proof that it's coming together to make a masterpiece.

It doesn't matter whether I'm standing on stage or I'm crammed in the studio looking at myself in the mirror and trying to correct every single detail I miss. I'm still the same. And if I know what I have to do, I can do it anywhere anytime and surprise people because that's my forte.

I don't have to be scared of failure. I've seen it's face a lot of times before and it's the reason I try to push myself to perfection even for a mere fifty seconds routine everyone would forget about.

Everything hurts.

But I savour the pain and look beyond it.

Within my thoughts is a bright line that stands out more than anything. I see it in my mind space and I know what I have to do. I have to reach for it and I know it's not easy. It's heavy and it tries to weigh me down but I trust myself enough to take a leap of faith, higher than anything, and reach for it.

When I cross it, that's when the void fades away and I feel lighter. It's over. The fifty seconds are done. Though I don't really remember what I did, I trust myself.

I'm breathing heavily, my eyes are focused on Valeria who's looking at me with a shocked expression. For a while, no one says anything and time fades away yet once again for me as I begin to observe the faces of the audience.

They're in awe. They're shocked. Their faces say that this is something they didn't expect what I did at all. If I could have an out of the body experience, I'd replay this moment to see how I look and why everyone feels the way they do.

"Wow," Valeria finally mutters into the mic. "Harley—that was great!"

I take a moment to catch my breath and when I do, I smile. "Thank you," I say. Since the auditorium is quiet, I think my low voice managed to reach the ears of the people sitting in the first few rows.

"Harley," Valeria asks, "How long have you been dancing?"

"Eight, or nine years. Give or take a few months, I guess."

"And... your applications here—" she reaches for a file and waits for a few moments, turning the pages and eventually stopping. She reaches forward for the mic again, her eyes never leaving the document. "Your applications say that you have zero stage experience. And that you're self taught. Is that a lie?"

"I've never performed in public or taken part in any competition. Yes, I'm self taught," I confirm.

"Okay. Cool. Great. All of you, on the stage now. I'll have a word with you all and then you can leave."

Slowly, all the other dance students make their way up to the stage. People are still standing around the hall and my eyes instinctively go to Nate. He's looking at me with an amused expression and his arms folded, a small teasing smile lingering on his lips. Our eyes lock for a while, an unspoken conversation without either of us saying anything at all.

"Alright, attention," Valeria speaks into her mic and I break eye contact, my eyes flicking to her. She sighs, shaking her head and breaking into a smile. Her eyes wander around the stage, resting at each of us as if she's still evaluating something. "You all sure have potential. Some of you did a great job right now. I get why most of you forgot half your choreographies but those who didn't," she pauses, looking at me, "You're all amazing. Honestly? Most of the second and the third years didn't either, but don't worry about it. It's normal. What I'm saying is that for the next three weeks, we'll be having four choreographies."

Most of us exchange looks.

"First will be a dance in two groups, ten students each. I'll appoint a choreographer and we'll have no arguments there. You all will be working on it for at least an hour and a half a day and at the end of week one, which means, the next friday, we'll have a session like this and you'll be graded."

Zed raises his hand. Valeria nods, asking him to go ahead and speak. "Are we going to have the chit system here as well?"

"Right. About that. Yes, most of the year, we go by the chit system but there are a little alterations all the time. I'll explain about it tomorrow. Right now, try not to interrupt me." She takes in a deep breath and breathes out. "Anyways, the second act will be the week after that. It will be in groups of four students. And the final one will be duo performances. While choreographing all this, you'll all be doing group choreography for a competition next month. It will be your first competition as part of the official Redville first year team. I hope all of you give it your best for this. I know it's going to be very hectic but you have to do it while managing your studies. Time management is up to you."

I have a bad feeling about it all. Not for me, but for everyone else. I know what this school is trying to do—schools like these push you to the breaking point and put you back up on your feet again because it's a part of learning. Methods like these are criticised a lot but I appreciate it. If you haven't reached your breaking point even once, you're bound to never reach your true potential.

An average person can only utilise up to eighty percent of their potential when they're performing. But there's an amount of focus you can muster to reach it. It's in the moment. It's about being present then and there without thinking about the outcome. You're immersed and you don't realise what's happening because the only thing that's important in that moment is you and your goal.

In sports, they call it the zone.

"Alright, that's it for now. I'll be assigning groups tomorrow so please be there for the morning class. Remember that being late comes with penalties so try to be on time."

All of us start to walk off the stage. I tie my laces and grab my bag, walking outside. However, I don't go down the stairs. I open my hair and run a hand through them while opening my phone. Soon enough, I feel someone approaching me. Asher stands next to me, leaning against the rail as the people exit the place, some giving us looks.

"You know," he begins, "the seniors of your team are impressed. At least you're the real deal."

"You still think I'm a fake and paid my way into the school?"

He just shrugs. "Don't ask me questions you know I'm not going to answer. But I'm impressed, really. I don't know how you managed to remember all that."

"I didn't try to impress anyone," I mutter, eyes on the phone.

"Sure you didn't."

Just then, someone pats me on my back. I roll my eyes as Nate takes the other side, leaning his back against the rail and eyes on me. I close my phone and keep it in my pocket, wanting to get this interaction over with as soon as possible. I look at Nate expectantly, knowing he's here just to say something to me.

"You didn't disappoint," is all he says.

I close my eyes. My head's throbbing with pain. The lighting on the stage had been too much for me and now it's turned into a not so pleasant headache. I'm really not in the mood to have crypted talks with the two of them at the moment.

"You guys think I did it because I was trying to prove myself but I don't need to prove myself to either of you. I'll just keep doing what I'm doing and you'll keep getting surprised. I won't have to do anything at all."

The two of them exchange looks, their smiles never fading. It's sick the way their expression mirrors each other, the same thing going on in their minds. Nate just shakes his head, standing straighter and walking off after he sends a wink my way. We're alone then, Asher and I. Most of the people are using the other exits or still inside so there is no one on this side with us, no one who can overhear us.

"If you think you can break me or discover things about me that easily, Asher, I hate to break it to you but you're the one who's overconfident. I'm warning you. If you underestimate me, it'll only backfire on you," I tell him.

"I think you're the one being overconfident, Harley, and I'm not backing down. I meant what I said that day." He grabs my wrist and backs me against the rail and I can feel my heartbeat racing against my chest. He leans in towards me, his hand reaches for my face as he tucks a strand of my dark hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my cheek. His touch is cold and intimidating and I don't know why I'm not pushing him away right now. "I know you're hiding something, Kingsley, and I'm going to take my own sweet time figuring you out."

We're like this for a few seconds, with me not replying to him and him maintaining the eye contact before he steps back. Turning around, he starts to walk away when I blurt out the words I didn't think I'd ever say to him.

"You're at the top of Delphinus, aren't you?" He turns to face me. "You're at the top of the entire school."

I'm in a trance now. I can't stop this. There's no going back.

"You've all got quite a system here, I've noticed, Asher. You, Nate, Summer, Lily—the second years, and maybe the first soon enough. You've set it all up for your benefit. No matter what happens, you would never take the fall for something that happens, would you?"

"What are you trying to say?" he asks. I've got all of his attention now. Guess I have to be cryptic to make him listen to me.

"I'm saying..." I look him dead into the eyes. "I'm saying that all it takes is for one thing to happen. One small accident, or incident, to disrupt the entire order. All it will take is one person to fall and everyone will follow like dominoes. You may be the first or the last one to fall but I can guarantee you that if something happens, you'll be the one left with the most damage, no matter what."

"Is that a threat?" He takes a step towards me. "Are you fucking threatening me, Kingsley?"

I smile sadistically. "I'm not threatening you. I'm just," I walk forward towards the stairs and stop right next to him. "I'm just speculating."

He doesn't stop me from walking away. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, his voice stops me. His tone is dangerous, like he's losing his patience. "You're messing with the wrong person."

"I know," I simply state and continue walking. He's still looking at me but I don't turn back even once. At the bottom of the stairs, Nate's there. He's got his headphones in, lost in the music. He looks at me and smiles but I don't stop, walking past him in an instant. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk away but I don't look back, not even once.

Soon, this conversation between him and I will reach them all, and more of them are going to approach me, just like Nate did. What matters from now on is how much I let them get to my head—or how much I make them believe they're getting to my head. If it's all a game to them, then I'll force my way into it and knock them all off the board.

END OF PART ONE