Page 1 of Big Pucking Deal
"AND FIVE,six, seven, eight."
The instructor calls out the counts and all the girls follow, moving through the steps we have been taught throughout the day.
I make my moves sharp, hitting every angle perfectly. My toes are pointed so tightly that my arch cramps, but the smile on my face stays wide and plastered in place. A bead of sweat drips from the notch at the base of my throat and straight between my boobs where it puddles with the others.
I pivot and flip my hair with that combination of sass and sexiness that all dancers must possess. Jazz walk, hip left then right, and ready for a leap. The instructor told us to insert our own skill so long as we weren’t doing any barreled calypso’s as we just don’t have the space with everyone.
There are only twenty girls remaining, but the limited space still doesn’t allow for such advanced leaps. I spread my arms, take a deep breath, then jump with my back leg in a high attitude and front leg straight. My arms lift above my head just as I throw it back, then stick the perfect landing, all with a huge smile. I do the last move then fall into the end pose and hold.
My chest heaves up and down, and all that can be heard now that the music has stopped is the panting of all the dancers. No one moves a muscle, holding their final pose and allowing onlytheir eyes to blink. When the instructor claps her hands, we all relax and stand tall. Some of us are in first position, others just let their arms hang limp.
“That was excellent. Thank you all.” The director steps forward from where she sat judging behind the table. “The Havoc organization thanks you for coming out the last two days, and participating in our tryouts. We currently only have ten open positions for our Whirlwind Dancers and let me tell you, this was a tough decision.”
We all clap and cheer as she turns back to the table and grabs a piece of paper.
“Will the following numbers please step forward. Four. Seventeen. Thirty-nine. Fifty-two. Fifty-eight. Sixty-one. Eighty-eight. One hundred ten. One nineteen. And one twenty-three.” Ten girls step forward and my heart falls realizing I didn’t make the cut. “If I called your number, thank you for coming out this weekend. We hope to see you back next season.”
My heart lodges in my throat as the group of girls visibly sag with the announcement. I clench my jaw and try to hold back the scream that is daring to break free.
“To the remainder of you…welcome to the team.” The ten remaining girls, including myself, leap with cheers and hollers.
I look across the room and see that Brooke, the girl I met and became instant friends with on day one, is also jumping up and down. I smile at her and she gives me a distant high five in celebration for both of us making the squad.
The ten girls that didn’t make the team collect their bags and shuffle towards the doors leading out into the auditorium. Once they all have left, the rest of us rush towards one another and throw our arms over the other. We’re connected in a circle and we jump, moving this way and that.
We finally calm down and see our new coach smiling at us. “Congratulations ladies. You are the best of the best and we lookforward to a wonderful season. Go home and rest and be ready to get to work in five days.”
We give parting hugs and grab our bags. Brooke runs over to me, squealing as she charges.
“Oh my gaaah, Jolie! We made it!” She jumps into my arms –the tiny thing barely weighs a buck five– and I squeeze her tight.
“I know! This is so amazing. I really thought we didn’t make it when she started calling out numbers,” I tell her and drape my arm over her shoulders, walking side by side out into the hallway.
“You’re telling me. I was already planning on what kind of ice cream I was going to sob into. It was pink bubblegum, by the way.” I scrunch my nose at her, my teeth practically aching thinking of the sugary sweet concoction. “Hold the judgment.”
“Hey,” I quip, holding my hands up. “I was planning to grab a bottle of cheap liquor on the way back to my brother's place.”
As if the mere thought of him is enough, my brother comes walking down the corridor.
“Do I hear the voice of my little sister?” I roll my eyes but do so with a smile.
“By five and a half minutes, Jordan. Get off your high horse.” I step up to him and he looks down at me.
My twin brother is tall, standing nearly six-two, compared to my five-six. It’s totally unfair that he ended up with all of the height while I got cheated. Although, seeing Brooke and her five foot two frame at best, I don’t really have a right to complain.
“So,” he says, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Did you make it?”
I hold his stare, not moving an inch, before finally nodding my head like a bobblehead on a bumpy dashboard.
“I made it!” I shout and jump into his arms much like Brooke did to me just moments earlier.
He spins me in a circle, laughing, and my hair floats around the two of us. When he finally sets me on my feet, I adjust my duffle bag that has slid down my arm and push my hair from my face.
“Brooke made it, too,” I add.
“Who’s Brooke?”
“Me! I’m Brooke,” she says, bouncing on her toes.
