THE FOX PERFORMING ARTS CENTRE FOUND ITSELF EMPTY ON MOST DAYS, APART FROM THE DANCE ACADEMY THAT SHAMELESSLY SPENT ALMOST EVERY WAKING HOUR THERE. But on this particular day, the Riverside Community Choir was also there. When Naomi and Jessica stepped inside the building fifteen minutes late, the choir had taken up the entirety of the main stage. Their harmonies rose and wrapped, carrying in the air like silk. Naomi's lips parted in awe and a chill went down her spine.

But as much as she wanted to, Naomi couldn't stay and watch. Jessica reminded her of that much. Today she needed to stay focused. They quickly went around the back and into the female dressing room where dozens of bodies had already gathered. They brushed their way in, rumours about Mr Carson's ruthlessness on the tips of everyone's tongues. Naomi could not blame them.

Mr Carson's summer programme was infamous. It was the most rigorous yet rewarding thing a young dancer in Riverside ever could do. In the span of two months, he instructs his class like a company and treats everyone like a principal dancer. Then, he sends off his best to compete in the National Prix de Ballet, a ballet competition practically bursting with opportunities to become the real deal. All at half the price of his usual classes. So naturally, every aspiring dancer within a ten-mile radius came to try their luck.

Naomi quickly got changed with the other girls, idle gossip floating over her head as she did, then, diligently wrapped her toes with masking tape before slipping them into her pointe shoes and tying up her long, permed hair. Naomi Morgan took a deep breath and tried not to think about NYC as she left the dressing room with a clutter of dancers and entered the dance studio.

Even though there were less than fifteen people inside, Mr Carson was already speaking. "Of course, if you've been to Prix, you already know all that," he was saying, "However, this year, the game has changed exponentially. Prix de Ballet, for the first time ever, will be held here in Riverside." Cheers erupted immediately, but Naomi realized the look on Mr Carson's face all too soon. "And as a result, this summer, we'll be working nine-hour days instead of seven and auditions will cut about thirty of you instead of ten." A whirl of worried looks swept the room. Naomi slowly watched as dancers stiffened and the crowds that were scurrying inside looked around worriedly. "We have to be perfect." No one said anything.

"But on the bright side, as you all should know, where there's an esteemed dance competition, there are top companies. Including the New York City Ballet Company." The studio exploded into whispers and out of it, Naomi perked up. NYC. This was her dream.

A voice said, "Our dream." Out of the corner of her eye, Naomi spotted Jessica. Standing next to her and smiling. "And don't worry, you're going to do amazing, Naomi."

Naomi fought back a terribly large smile. "Thank you for being here with me. I don't know what I'd do without you." A few dancers turned to see who Naomi was speaking to but saw no one.

"Of course," Jessica said. "I could never leave you."

Mr Carson continued as crowds of people began entering in droves. "So not only is this our chance to disgrace other academies, but you can also impress your favourite companies while you're at it. Two birds, one stone." The room still hadn't quite stopped buzzing since Mr Carson said NYC was coming to Riverside. "However, unfortunately, most of our funds are still being used to renovate our space, so we can only afford to do one solo, two pas de duex, one large group ensemble and one small group ensemble. Oh, and auditions will have to start now."

Time stopped. What?

"The Riverside Dance Academy has something to prove this year," Mr Carson pronounced. "We can't afford to waste any time or money." Naomi watched the worry swing across the room like Newton's cradle, hitting dancers down like bowling pins. She wasn't sure where everyone else's solace came from but hers was in the feeling of Jessica's hand resting on her shoulder.

"Relax," Mr Carson consoled, "if the role wasn't meant for you, you won't get it. It's that simple." Many of the girls groaned. "But, if it was made for you," he continued, "then there's nothing on earth that can prevent you from getting it. I believe that."

The dancers hardly allowed that to sink in. They immediately threw questions around out of frustration and worry and Mr Carson did his best to tackle them all but soon, a clear limit was reached. "Look," he boomed, "if that scares you, get out. This is what dancing professional ballet looks like. You don't plan for things, but they happen. The true dancers are the ones that can adapt and make it work. If you can't then I suggest you leave. Right now." His voice had carried and the studio walls held, but still, no one moved. So, Mr Carson exhaled. "Good, let's get started."

He moved all the dancers to stand on the left while he moved himself to the right of the room. Then he began. "So, I won't be training beginners. We simply don't have the time this year." The room quieted and he took a breath. "Girls, if you cannot walk en pointe, leave," he swiftly worked his shoes off from his ankles and when he didn't hear any footsteps, he added bass. "Now!" Everyone watched as a group of little girls traded fearful glances before dropping their chins and walking out.

"If you haven't been doing ballet for at least ten years, leave."

"If you've never danced the Nutcracker, leave."

"If you can't do at least ten fouettes, leave."

With every criterion, a regretful group of dancers walked out and by the time Mr Carson was done, the studio population was cut in half. Naomi saw Aspen smirked at the realisation. "Good," Mr Carson concluded, satisfaction in his tone and hands on his hips. Naomi let out a breath. "Now we start the auditions."

The dancers that were left whimpered. Some slumped their backs and others cursed under their breaths but Naomi only took her bottom lip between her teeth and furthered herself to the back so she could grab the barre. She glanced at herself in the mirrored walls and shivered at the girl looking back at her. Here she was, presented with the opportunity of a lifetime and yet she didn't feel the slightest hint of excitement. Only anxiety and nervousness.

The NYC ballet company was coming here, to Riverside and Mr Carson's programme was her best avenue to get scouted. She wanted to get in, no, she needed to get in. She couldn't imagine what her parents would say if she didn't.

"They won't say anything, because you'll get in." Jessica was beside her in the mirror. She smiled at her. "Just breathe."

Across the room, Mr Carson was moving at a drastic rate. He let people in almost as often as he kicked people out and before Naomi knew it, he was pointing to where she was standing. An icy shiver crawled up her spine. "Name?" All eyes landed on her.

She turned around with Jessica at her heel and took a breath. "Naomi Morgan."

*

That night, the Morgan family enjoyed each other's company around a full dining table. Overflowing with food yet scarce with words. A thin knife would often clink against a porcelain plate and that was the closest they ever got to spontaneity. Nothing ever changed, and though Naomi was grateful for the schedule of it all, she couldn't help but hope that even for one day, things would be different. They were all steadily slicing into their dinner when Mrs Morgan attempted a conversation. "So," she cleared her throat, "how was your day?"

William mumbled something positive while Naomi said, "Good."

Their mother nodded and their father took out his phone.

Delicately, Naomi Morgan chewed and watched. She saw her father at the head of the table, at ease on his thrown and typing away at his phone. She saw her mother, the yellow ceiling lights hueing her skin to perfection as took a sip from her tall glass. Then Naomi saw her brother sitting across from her. His face was hovering inches over his plate and he carried his sparse fork to his mouth in silence. "You should break the news," Jessica perked.

"No," Naomi whispered under her breath, "They won't want to hear it."

"What's that, honey?" Mrs Morgan said. Naomi watched as one by one her family looked up at her. She looked back. Then there was silence.

"Now's your chance," Jessica whispered into her ear tantalizingly.

She coughed to free her throat. "Uh, I was just saying that Mr Carson casted the categories today," she said.

"Oh, great. What are you in, honey?"

"One of the pas de duex, the large ensemble and I'll also be dancing as Giselle, for the solo."

Mr Morgan looked up from his food now.

"Wow!" her mother exclaimed. "That's amazing!" She drew in her daughter for a half-hug and told her she'd definitely get into the NYC company not just for herself but for Jessica as well. Naomi couldn't help but wonder if it was that obvious that she needed her best friend. Her father smiled proudly and put his hand on her shoulder. "That's fantastic, Naomi. You work so hard."

She politely uttered a thank you and mentioned that she had to rehearse tomorrow for a special one on one class with Mr Carson to nail the role with her understudy.

"Who's your understudy?" her father asked her.

Naomi looked at her brother who still hadn't looked up. Then, she realised his food was untouched. Under the gazes of her parents though, she simply faced them and told them it was Aspen Letterman. Mrs Morgan declared that she needed to invite everyone who was selected for Prix over for dinner. A celebration, of sorts. Her husband agreed supportively. Neither of them recognized their quiet son hiding the bruise on his left cheek.

By the end of the night, everyone had receded back into their bedrooms and a familiar silence was strung up to the walls in the Morgan home. Naomi was in her bedroom using a pair of scissors to scratch the soles of her pointe shoes in order to give it extra friction while Jessica was rolling around on her bed. She crumpled the purple sheets as she went, throwing out ideas of how to ensure her spot at NYC.

"You know you have to be perfect at Prix."

"I know," Naomi replied, cutting into the bottom of her shoes.

"This is your once in a lifetime opportunity. Not to mention, if you fail Aspen will literally throw a party. She'll get the part and probably take your spot at NYC."

"I know, Jessica, I know," she answered again.

Jessica leapt off the bed. "Come on you need to practice." Not waiting for opinions, she grabbed Naomi by the elbow quickly and pulled her up. Naomi's grip on the knife slipped. The sharpened edge birthed red against her palm.

Naomi flinched. "Jessi-"

She shushed her. "Professionals get hurt every day, Naomi. Do you want this or not?" She couldn't say no. She didn't want to. Her fate had been sealed the second she befriended Jessica at the Academy. The second her parents came to her first recital. The second she realized she couldn't stop dancing, not now, not ever. It made her life.

Naomi nodded wordlessly, her hand dripping velvet.

"Good. Let's start stretching." Tears dared her eyelashes but never got the courage. Naomi inhaled deeply and told herself hard work is pain made to look easy. As she lowered herself to the ground, two soft knocks rapped against her room door.

Naomi turned and Jessica was nowhere. The door cracked open and Mrs Morgan popped in from behind it. Her earrings were off, but her makeup was still fresh. When she smiled down at her daughter, her red lipstick was thick and loud. Naomi smiled back.

Then she saw the blood. "Oh my god, Naomi! What happened to your hand?" She was all the way in the room now, sitting on the floor next to Naomi and holding her.

"Oh," Naomi futilely tried retracting her arm.

Mrs Morgan grabbed it. " What the hell were you doing?" Then she got up off the ground and dashed into Naomi's bathroom. She came back hurrying open a first aid kit and setting it beside them.

Naomi pointed to one of her pointe shoes that was haphazardly strewn on the floor while her mother cleaned her cut. "I was adding friction to my shoes. So I don't fall." She shook her head. "Sorry, I was being reckless, mom.

Mrs Morgan's red lips smiled. She thoughtfully bandaged her hand before looking up at Naomi. "Do you know why your father and I spend so much for you to do ballet?" Naomi didn't answer. She suspected if she did, the very air between her mother and her would shatter into unfixable pieces. "Because it takes strength and determination and practice. It forges people in a good way.

When I lived in Jamaica, my friends and I— we were forged by, unspeakable things. Some of those things, the things that we saw, it can make you or break you, Naomi. A lot of us broke. I knew I would too if I didn't move. So I left and I never looked back. It made me powerful, all those wicked things I saw. I'd always known I wanted you to be powerful too, just without having to experience the things that I did."

Naomi thought her mother was about to stop. She thought the silence patrolling their house's hallways had finally come to silence her. But Mrs Morgan only smiled, and her mouth opened once more as if it was unafraid. Naomi didn't realize how far the walls of her room had stretched. "And after what you told me tonight," she held up the pointe shoe, "and watching you do all this, it makes me so happy. You're a powerful young woman, Naomi, especially with what happened to Jessica. I'm so proud of you." She hugged her.

Naomi didn't feel powerful at all. In fact, she felt alone and lost, but her mother must've seen something in her that she didn't. Something Naomi was oblivious to, much like how everyone else was oblivious to Jessica. That similarity, no matter how thinning, made Naomi glad. It made her remember that she had company outside of her best friend. Soon the ground of her small bedroom floor, the walls had all fallen away, and Naomi felt boundless. She pulled her mother in, nuzzling into her shoulders. No silence could tame her. "I love you, mom."

When they pulled back, Naomi saw her mother's make up smudge off her cheek. They laughed stupidly at that.

Needless to say, that night in the wall-less room, Jessica strapped up Naomi's pointe shoes on her feet, the silk of the strap slipping against the tawny of her skin and watched as she practised everything. She did move after move in front of her thin, standing mirror until she lost count and the pain in her toes became unbearable. But Jessica encouraged her to continue, as always. And with every spin, jump and extension, Naomi felt her mother's words breathe through her. You are powerful.

Author's Note
Okay, this one was a little longer than usual but I think it was worth it, don't you?

This week's dedication goes to the kind and supportive justamk_ because she is literally the G.O.A.T. I don't deserve her y'all 😭😭😭. If you comment, vote and share the next dedication could be you!

What are your guys' thoughts on the story so far?

IN THE NEXT CHAPTER...

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.

From the inside, it suddenly jerked open...