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A C T  O N E

"How was it possible to miss something you no longer wanted?"

- Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, Americanah

"AND UP." THE ENTIRE RIVERSIDE DANCE ACADEMY ROSE. Pointe shoes strained, backs aligned, and tight arms gripped metal the barre. All movements in the studio were now hushed to solely that of Mr Carson's quick, bare-foot pacing. His eyes, sharp as glass, inspected each of his dancers like fine china as he glided across the wooden floor.

The Riverside Dance Academy wasn't actually a building on its own, it was in fact, a small class that took residence in the basement of the Fox Performing Arts Centre. The structure was in obvious need of refurbishing if the chipped walls and pale paint were any indications, but that didn't stop any of the thirty-something dancers from paying the slightly outrageous fee to take classes there; because in ballet you pay for the art, not the facilities. And here, in the run-down building sitting awkwardly in Downtown Riverside, the art was taught by Mr Carson who in turn was taught by George Balanchine, the Jesus of ballet. That type of art was priceless.

Mr Carson snapped at his latest intern and the music began to lull. Naomi inhaled and brought to life all the corrections she'd been rehearsing in her bedroom. Her head smoothly travelled with her arm, her stance was firm, but not stiff, and she maintained her pointe perfectly all throughout.

Mr Carson examined her for a little longer than he did the other girls. His head cocked and his lips tightened, but eventually, he shifted his gaze, adjusting other dancers as he went across the room. "Bethany, lower your chin. You look like a newly born baby giraffe."

"Keep that up Samantha, and you'll be dancing a villager your entire career."

"Lucas, I can hear your back from here. Please, stretch properly." A few of the boys smiled at that one.

That evening, the Riverside Dance Academy moved until the sun came at eye level just to watch, striking the mirrored wall as softly as their ballet shoes struck the wooden floors. But as Naomi took her breath and glanced at her reflection, the music stopped.

"If this is how you intend to dance at Prix de Ballet this summer, save me the humiliation and don't bother to sign up. The best dancers that the country has to offer will eat you alive out there without hesitation. There seems to be only one dancer in this room who looks like she knows that. The rest of you need to get it together." The entire Academy glanced at Naomi Morgan as Mr Carson went to pick up his shoes; even Jessica, except she was the only one whose eyes were proud. But a part of Naomi still could not meet any of their gazes. She was too afraid of what they would tell. Pride. Envy. Disgust. To simply avoid it all, she trained her eyes on Mr Carson instead, watching him take the lightest of steps as he spoke. It looked like he was hardly even touching the ground.

"Nevertheless," he began again boringly, "My summer programme begins next week to train you for Prix. I'm in need of some serious impressing." With that and one last haughty look at the dancers, Mr Carson left the room, his intern fumbling out after him.

The Riverside Dance Academy let out a collective exhale and sluggishly dispersed. Dancers took off their shoes, some went out the door, others began stretching but Naomi went back to looking at herself on the mirrored wall. The stranger stared back at her confusedly.

Her skin was deep and rich like a bold sepia, bones jagged and abundant underneath, hair like an untamed sea, eyes like the desert. She was always aware of the fact that she was the only black dancer in the Academy, but when the sun shot into the studio and glazed her skin, it felt so much more obvious. And she was sure everyone else noticed it too.

"Hey, are you okay?" Suddenly, Jessica was standing directly in front of her. Her hands were resting on her narrow hips and her eyebrows drawn in. Naomi found her and blinked.

"Sorry," she muttered.

As confused as the other girl was, Naomi realized, Jessica still looked radiant. She supposed that quality transferred into her dancing. Naomi couldn't help but wonder which of her own qualities transferred into her dancing. "Did you see the look on everyone's faces when Mr Carson said you were the best dancer." Jessica crouched to the floor and began stretching. "They were practically steaming. Especially Aspen."

Naomi let out a breath and joined her best friend on the floor. She tried not to think too much about the other dancers at the Academy. The only persons she ever spoke to were Jessica and Ben, and Ben didn't even dance here. Jessica was twisting her body into the stretches, not the slightest effort in her face while Naomi flushed her legs against the ground and slowly took her toes into her palms. A sharp snap cracked from the muscle in her ankle. She clenched her teeth.

"You're doing great," Jessica said. She rested her hand on Naomi's knee and ducked her head to meet her gaze. "Pain is a small price to pay."

"Yeah," Naomi agreed, looking into her blue eyes. "A small price to pay for NYC. Their scouts might be at Prix this year."

"You'll impress them."

"It's been our dream since we were little."

"And we'll get there."

The few dancers still idling in the studio spun around at the girls' whispers. They exchanged gazes amongst themselves. "Look, Mr Carson is an asshole," said Jessica, "But he's also an amazing teacher. If he says you're a good dancer then you have nothing to worry about." Naomi set her palms on the floor behind her and looked through the stained studio windows. "Plus, I think you're a great dancer."

She smiled. With a slight glance at the Riverside traffic congesting the streets outside, Naomi muttered thoughtfully, "Can you imagine us leaving Riverside though? It'd be so weird."

"Tell me about it. Then there won't be any good dancers here." Naomi chuckled sheepishly. "I'm serious. Look, baby Giraffe Bethany ain't got nothing on you."

Naomi sprung up, her mouth agape. A contagious laugh erupted from the both of them, one that definitely had a few heads turning in confusion. When she noticed them Naomi bit back her smile and shook her head.

The studio emptied quickly, soon occupying only the two girls and a faraway boy doing rounds on the barre. Naomi and Jessica stretched thoroughly and the time carried Naomi's mind. If she was being honest, she wasn't sure how she would survive if she left behind her best friend. Where she was the routine, Jessica was the music. And everyone knew a routine without music was meaningless.

When the girls were the only ones left, Jessica leapt to her feet. Spontaneously, she suggested they go to Ben's, as she always did after practice, and outstretched her arm. Naomi grabbed it without a thought and the two quickly scooped up their belongings and dashed out the studio door. They went through the corridors of the Fox Performing Arts Centre, racing against the setting sun and laughing at the dread of dusk.

Then, when they pushed open the Centre doors and the cityscape broke free before they simply walked into it. But Jessica realised something Naomi didn't. She grabbed her hand. Not a second later, a succession of bicycles zipped before her. Faster than her own eyes could catch. The bikes left a trail of wild laughs and soaring wind in their wake. They hardly even slowed.

One figure turned around, exposing his face, or in fact as Naomi looked harder, the tiger mask covering it. "Sorry, babe!" he shouted. The mask mostly muffled his words as he leaned completely upright on his bicycle, freeing both hands and waving ecstatically. His friends turned around as well, following his example and Naomi noted all their different masks. On the same bicycle, the boy who shared it was a monkey, on another bike was a bull, then a fox, her huge afro contrasting her mask, and a bunny.

Jessica stepped up beside Naomi. "Wild animals," she commented. The group faced forward again, except the monkey. He cocked his head and waved, his idle feet barely missing the street's asphalt as they all rode off.

Jessica turned. "Let's go."

California's heat concentrated before it ever dissipated but soon, the sun went out of sight and the moon became a slight shimmer in the hued sky above. As the girls made their way down the sidewalk, Naomi couldn't help but look behind her. "I've never seen them before, you know." Of course, she had heard of the Guise. An internet-famous group of teenage social activists that tagged cooperate buildings and upset neighbourhoods, known for their animal masks, but she'd never actually witnessed them in person.

"Really?" Jessica said dryly, eyeing the traffic and billboards surrounding them. "Well, this is a rare occasion they weren't running from the police."

Naomi tried to search for what was so interesting in the never-changing buildings and loud billboards that kept Jessica's attention so much that she still wasn't looking at her. "They're fighting for what they think is right," she said. That had to count for something.

Jessica scoffed. "They're crazy."

Her tone held finality and righteousness, things Naomi could not challenge. So she didn't say anything further. In fact, she mimicked her best friend, pretending that the city's signs and cars took her mind off the crazy teenagers she'd just encountered. It was better than arguing anyway.

And before she knew it, they were crossing the street and outside of Ben's Dance Equipment Store, Jessica pulling the door wide open.

Author's Note

It's finally here! Thank you guys so so much for giving my first chapter a try!

This chapter is dedicated to my friend, classicoverthinker for bearing the heavy burden of listening to me cry on end about this book while writing it. He's also the king of Wattpad so head over to his profile and check him out! If you comment, vote and share, the next dedication could be you!

So, readers, tell me what you think:
The Guise- menace or saviors?
Jessica- friend or foe?
Decisions, decisions.

IN THE NEXT CHAPTER...

Naomi exercised her tongue before speaking. "What happened?"

Her mother looked her way furiously. "Those kids happened. The ones with the masks. They spray painted my car!" She stressed 'car' like one would stress 'no' at a devastating funeral. "Naomi, do you have any idea who these teenagers are? Kids your age must be talking."

"Told you," Jessica whispered. "Wild animals."