[Ballet Studio – Morning]
The room was filled with mirrors, soft light filtering in from the tall windows that lined the walls. The smell of sweat and floor polish lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp sound of tapping ballet shoes on the hardwood floors. Ava stood near the door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glanced around the studio. She was uncomfortable. This wasn’t her world.
She could feel every pair of eyes on her, the judgment in the air as the other girls stretched and warmed up, clearly used to this place. Her mom had insisted, practically forced her into this. Ava didn’t belong here. She wasn’t like them. She wasn’t graceful, wasn’t delicate. She was just Ava, with smudged eyeliner, a tough attitude, and a love for music that didn’t come with pirouettes and tutus.
Instructor (Ms. Green): (clapping her hands) Alright, girls, gather round!
Ava reluctantly shuffled over to the group, trying to blend in as best as she could. Her eyes kept flicking toward the door, wishing she could just leave. But her mom’s words rang in her head—you need this. She wasn’t going to get out of it, not without causing a scene. So, she stayed.
Ms. Green: (smiling, but with a serious edge) This isn’t just about learning how to dance. Ballet is about discipline, focus, and strength. Each movement tells a story, and you need to express it.
Ava rolled her eyes, trying to keep a straight face. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to tell any story through dancing. She just wanted to get through this and go home.
Ms. Green: (looking directly at Ava) Ava, we’re going to start with the basic stretches. Let’s see how you’re doing.
Ava stiffened. She wasn’t ready for this. But before she could protest, the instructor was already walking toward her. Ms. Green didn’t seem like the type to take excuses.
Ms. Green: (gesturing) Go ahead, try a plie.
Ava glanced at the others, who were already gracefully moving into position. She could feel her face flush with embarrassment. She tried to mirror their movements, but her legs felt awkward, stiff. She bent down as best as she could, but it wasn’t pretty. Her movements were mechanical, not fluid. It didn’t look like the others, who were all perfect little ballerinas in their pink leotards.
Ms. Green: (raising an eyebrow) Not quite. Try again, Ava. Lower yourself a bit more, and bend your knees more fluidly.
Ava let out a frustrated sigh and tried again, pushing herself lower, but it didn’t feel right. The other girls kept gliding through the moves like it was second nature. Ava felt like a fish out of water.
Lana (whispering from the corner): You should’ve at least tried to practice before coming.
Ava glanced over at her, shooting her a glare. She didn’t need Lana’s sarcasm right now. But Lana was right. She wasn’t prepared for this.
Ava straightened up after another failed attempt, her patience wearing thin.
Ava: (muttering under her breath) This is stupid...
Ms. Green: (sharply) Ava, this isn’t about being perfect. It’s about the effort. Now try again.
Ava clenched her jaw, forcing herself to take another deep breath. She didn’t want to be here, but she had no choice. She bent down again, trying to make it look right.
She could feel Lana’s eyes on her, the pressure building. It was too much.
[After Ballet Class – Ava’s House]
Ava stormed through the front door, throwing her ballet bag on the floor as soon as she got inside. Her mom was in the kitchen, flipping through a magazine.
Ava’s Mom: (without looking up) How was ballet, sweetheart?
Ava: (snapping) It was awful. I can’t do this, Mom. They all look perfect, and I look like a clown in comparison.
Ava’s Mom: (raising an eyebrow) It’s just the first day, Ava. You’ll get better.
Ava: (scoffing) Better? I’ll never fit in there. They all have this perfect life, and I don’t belong in that world.
Ava’s Mom: (putting the magazine down) You need to give it a chance. Ballet will teach you things that school and your friends can’t. You’ll see that eventually.
Ava let out a heavy sigh and walked away, heading upstairs. She wanted to scream, but instead, she just collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. Ballet wasn’t her thing, and she knew it.
Her phone buzzed on her nightstand. It was a message from Lana.
Lana [text]: How was ballet? I can tell you hated it already. lol. Wanna meet up later?
Ava stared at the text for a moment. She hated being here, but she still wanted to be with her friends. Maybe if she went to see them, it’d take her mind off ballet.
She typed back quickly.
Ava [text]: Yeah, let’s hang later.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtboJ0zQvZh
