Page 175 of Facing Off
Unencumbered, high-octane thrusting from one step to another, dizzying turns, jarring leaps. I’m baring my teeth as much as I’m scowling, as much as I’m smiling. A gambit of emotions, nothing tidy.
My leg to the roof, I’m spinning endlessly. Then more back and forth, my spine undulating. Leaps upon leaps. Renversé. Pirouette. Piqué turn.
I want to be watched. I want to be understood. My limbs cut through the air, raw and unrelenting, like if I move hard enough, I’ll be seen for what I really am.
And finally, the pulsing drumbeat stops, almost as abruptly as it started. In the last moments, I melt to the ground. As if what was once angrily alive has blinked into a wordless rest. Being imperfect is as important as vulnerability, as hoping to be held.
Silence.
Airwhooshesout of my lungs. My routine is over, so I rise back to my feet and walk offstage, trembling and dazed. A look over my shoulder confirms Bob Pepita and his assistants have their heads tucked together and are talking animatedly.
A surreal shock passes through me. Whatever the case, I’ve made an impression. Bad or good, time will tell. My heart is still pounding, but I walk taller now. I left everything I had out there, and nothing else matters.
I’m led to a cooldown area where I can change out of my pointe shoes, drink some water, and layer up again with more clothes. Other dancers mill around me, but I onlychat with them for a few minutes, too impatient to stick around. My part of the audition is over. I duck outside of the theater and head towards the exit.
Outside the building, my neck cranes, limbs unable to stay still as I search, my feet pushing me forward. At first I’m walking, but then I see him in the distance, having had to exit another way, running towards me, and now I’m running towards him, too.
Somewhere, haphazardly in the middle, we meet, and I’ve already jumped into his arms. One-armed, Adrian catches me and lifts me up, and my legs wrap around his waist.
“Fuck. Sonya—fuck. You were…” He grins. “I couldn’t breathe watching you. I couldn’t look away. And now I can’t even talk right about it—but, baby, it wasunreal.”
His voice is strangled and tells me everything I need to know.
I kiss him.
He kisses me and keeps his eyes open the whole time, as if awestruck. I glide my hand through his hair about to slant my mouth even deeper, when I hear my name being yelled by multiple people.
Pulling back I see the crowd coming towards us. I’m in disbelief. Kavi, Quinn, Lokhov, and a few more of the Wings players are holding balloons. Adrian’s family are carrying posters. The one Sid is holding makes my throat stick. It says ‘Barre none, Sonya is the best!’
Adrian puts me back on my feet, so I can be swept up in so many hugs and words of congratulations that I lose track of who is giving them to me. The back of my eyes prickle, and I’m sighing, this soft almost inaudible sigh as my knees wobble. I think I might collapse with how much support is flowing around me.
The whole time Adrian stands back and watches,beaming with pride. He’s brimming with it, unable to contain his dimples or stop his eyes from creasing into rainbow shapes or his grin from going full-wattage.
After pulling away from the last hug, my hands are full of balloons, and I go back to stand beside him. His lips brush my temple, and he’s inhaling deeply as if he can’t get enough of me.
I whisper in his ear, “Did you organize this?”
“Everyone wanted to be here, darling,” he says, voice warm and proud. “Because we’re so excited to celebrate you. Hope that’s okay?” His nose brushes along my jaw like he can’t help himself.
My fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck. “More than okay.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Kavi asks, winking at me.
“Nothing,” I deny automatically.
Adrian chuckles. At the same time, Quinn steps forward. “We were watching the live-stream, and I kept thinking to myself that my sister is going to make history. She’s going to be the first South Asian ballerina picked as a principal dancer.” His hands go up. “No pressure, of course! But that’s how good you were!”
“You are so cool!” Sid hugs me again.
His sisters and Mom agree, adding in their excitement about my performance.
“How do you feel?” wonders Lokhov, contributing a whopping four words to the conversation as per usual.
My nerves are tingling. I’m sore and basically rendered speechless with all these balloons and posters and words of encouragement and the visible awe. “Good…”
“Say more,” urges Kavi. “We know you don’t love getting emotional, but just a little bit more. Please?”
I glance around, my chest fluttering at how manypeople are genuinely here for me. “I guess I could say that oddly, I’ve already won, no matter what happens next. That I never thought I would feel this way, but I’m glad I’m here. With all of you.”
