THE NEXT DAY, NAOMI MORGAN WOKE ON HER MOTHER'S WORDS. She got out of bed with its purpose and slipped by Jessica with its pleasure. I am powerful, she thought. While her best friend was quiet, Naomi knew that Jessica was watching her and smiling as she organized her things for the rest of the day. Naomi could practically hear it. And she couldn't help smiling back.

As of recently, Naomi Morgan woke every day at four. It began around the same time that Jessica appeared everywhere and at first, Naomi thought to fight it. She tried pulling the sheets over her head and ignoring her best friend routinely sitting at the edge of her bed. But Jessica did not like to be ignored. She forced Naomi to use her early hours to practice. "You want to get into NYC, right?" she had asked. And she did, Naomi wanted all that and more. So she practised and practised and practised. Today, it felt a little less like torture.

Before the rest of the Morgan family even had a chance to wake, Naomi had done enough rounds in her standing mirror to fill swimming pools with sweat and satisfaction. Exasperated, she let her chemical-drenched hair down and left her room. Jessica followed her down the quiet stairs and to the bathroom where she pulled on the door. But it was locked. Naomi tried it again.

From the inside, it suddenly jerked open. Will was standing in the frame. For only a second, the siblings' eyes caught like a rusted gear and cooled till it was frozen and brittle. But in that second, Naomi almost didn't recognize her brother. There was something unfamiliar in his eye. Fear? She didn't have the chance to recognize it, though before Will brushed past her and ran up the stairs, swiftly turning a corner.

Naomi felt the walls around her grow taller. Jessica pulled open a drawer and handed Naomi a tube of toothpaste. She redirected her preoccupation to what really mattered. She reminded Naomi of her mother's words and told her, "Keep on going, this is your day." A brief smile tilted her mouth as she took the toothpaste.

Keeping that in her mind, Naomi Morgan took a bus all the way to the empty Fox Performing Arts Centre. This early, the stage was still dark and just as the Riverside Choir left it, and the building was oddly peaceful, just as Naomi liked it. The dressing room was solely theirs as she changed, humming the melody to her solo. It was so soothing in fact that, Naomi only noticed that the Riverside air carried a chill when she entered the dance studio.

The musty windows didn't allow much sunlight in just yet and the chips in the walls felt far from each other. It felt as if the space from one wall to the next held more possibility that just one ballet class. Like it held potential. The room only seemed small, Naomi supposed, because of the tacky barre clutching to the wall and the dusty fans screwed to the ceiling.

Jessica took to the middle of the room. "Okay, let's start stretching." Naomi went in front of her. And, as relaxed as her hair, she slid to the hard centre of the dance studio and dedicated her time to the submission of her muscles. She kept her legs straight before her and leaned forward. The pressure in her back uprooted but the nerves set steady. Jessica aided her through it. You are powerful, she told her.

Aspen Letterman was next to arrive at the Fox Performing Arts Centre. She came in with a padded step from her pointe shoes and the slam of the door. Naomi jumped. Aspen rolled her eyes. She made her way to the other side of the room briskly and set down her pink water bottle next to her. Then, like revenge, she grabbed the barre and quickly attacked her stretches. It was assurance and murder. Not a strand of her blonde hair moved out of place, either. Her skinny physique moved with such power that Naomi often wondered if she would snap in two. But, she supposed that was the quality that made her dancing so special. Watching a brittle girl move with so much strength across a huge stage.

However, she wasn't always like that. There was a time when Aspen Letterman couldn't jump because her weight held her back. There were days her size would cost her roles and the other girls had fat insults on their tongues. Then one day, Aspen stepped into the studio and she was thin as a pencil. That day, she became a force to be reckoned with. And everyone in the Riverside Dance Academy forgot all about the plumper Aspen, especially Aspen.

"Good job, Naomi. Jessica would be so proud." Neither of the girls looked at each other. "But you should watch your chest. We don't do that type of dancing here."

Naomi opened her mouth to say something back. Something powerful and forged, like her mother would want. Like Jessica wanted. But the walls were collapsing on her and there was no escape.

"She's just asking for it," Jessica shook her head as if she knew something Naomi didn't. "She's only acting out because she's your understudy. You know that right?"

"I know," Naomi muttered.

The door swung open to introduce Mr Carson. His intern and a few dancers followed him inside, filing into the space between the girls. "Good morning, ladies." He slipped off his shoes. "Ready to dance?"

*

The following day, before the rest of the Dance Academy had even made it to the Fox Performing Arts Centre, Naomi was crossing the street to Ben's Equipment store. Yesterday her dancing was unsteady, to say the least. The entire time, she felt as if her pointe shoes were working against her ankles and contorting her feet. Jessica was furious about it.

Naomi knew she had to bring the issue to Ben. After all, he was the professional, and her career rested on the effectiveness of her pointe shoes. So that's where she was now, elbows curiously atop the counter of Ben's Equipment store. "Do you think I should put the string closer to the box?"

Ben's eyebrows narrowed. "I've never been wrong about a measurement before. Let me see it."

Naomi swung her dirty backpack around her shoulder and sat it on the counter, rummaging through its contents. Riverside was only just waking up by now, cars whizzing by the front door of the store and surrounding shops flipping their signs from 'closed' to 'open'. Ben continued thoughtfully, "Well, I've been wrong once. But we don't talk about that."

Naomi pulled out her pointe shoes but a roll of masking tape plopped out with it. She quickly ripped where the two items were attached and shoved the tape back into her bag. Ben grabbed her hand. "What are you doing with tape?"

"School project," she said without thinking.

Ben straightened his back and raised an eyebrow. "It's summer," he stated.

She shook her head. "The project is over. I just forgot to take the tape out of my bag." Ben didn't budge. "I swear," she added.

Ben gave her a look. Between both of them, it was more meaningful than words and more worrisome than sobbing. The only other person Naomi had that with was Jessica. "I hope you're not lying. Because you know that taping your feet to help you go en pointe isn't good for you. If you're experiencing pain—"

"—I know, Ben." She put the tape back in her bag. "But it was only a school project."

For a second, it felt like the shoulder height shelves in the Equipment store were directly behind Naomi. In another second, she suddenly became aware of the cold air bracing against her neck. In another, the ceiling would have probably come down on her like guilt, but alas, Ben closed his eyes and exhaled. He opened them again with hope and the store around her retreated with trust. "Okay, yellow," he leaned forward again, the counter bordering their bodies. "Let me see those shoes."

Naomi handed them over as the sun struck the browning satin. Principal dancers never kept their pointe shoes for very long because they vigorously worked through them like nothing, and though Naomi wasn't at that level yet, Jessica suggested she should get into the habit now. She'd only started with this pair yesterday morning. All the others were stacked up in her closet. Ben examined them, the insides and the soles, before asking "Let me see your foot a second."

Naomi winced and took off her sneakers. At every given moment, she avoided looking at her feet. The bones were rigid and bending inside the skin, her toenails were discoloured and crooked. A dancer's curse, she supposed. Ben could bear the sight, though. He came around the counter and bent one knee, allowing her right foot to rest on the other. Naomi looked away.

It was only a few minutes before he said. "That's odd. It looks like you were right." She gratefully plunged her foot back into her socks. "Did you feel restrained before yesterday."

Naomi shook her head. When her foot was safely hidden, she handed over the second foot of the pair of pointe shoes. Hopefully, he'd be able to fix them before class starts.

Ben made a sound. "You better watch it, yellow. You could be running me out of business or something."

Naomi zipped up her backpack. "Oh, is this the part where you stroke your grey beard menacingly?"

A second didn't pass. Ben looked suspiciously into the faraway isles of compression shirts and tights, caressing his chin. "This town ain't big enough for the both of us," he said. Naomi laughed loudly.

Author's Note
I need my own Ben to be honest.

This week's dedication belongs to antichrist_tv_blues because wow she's voted for almost everything I've posted AND gives such great, heart-warming comments. We stan! If you follow, comment and share the next dedication could be you!

Also, guys, does Riverside feel real to you? It is inspired by a real place but I've kinda put my own interpretation on it. Let me know how you feel about it!

IN THE NEXT CHAPTER...

"-What grief?" she interrupted.

Naomi watched him choose his words this time. Mr Carson never did that. "With Jessica," he answered slowly. His head lowered to match her height and sincerity glossed his eyes. "Look, as dancers more often than not we have to take the bad things that happen to us and dance them out. It can be our closure in a sense."

Closure? "I...I don't know what you mean." Jessica appeared behind the man. She was hugging her elbows and biting her bottom lip...