That feels like my only hope at the moment.
The sun is high in the sky when I walk out of my test, and I swear there are more birds singing than normal. If this was a musical, I’d skip down the sidewalk, twirl a stranger into a dance, and click my heels.
I passed.
I don’t know that for sure, but I can feel it. I crushed that test.
I don’t know if it was my relentless cramming or the osmosis technique, but it worked. I didn’t have to skip any questions and come back to them. I didn’t have to make any guesses. I made it through the multiple choice, true/false, and essay questions like a boss, and now I’m free.
Winter break awaits.
I’m walking past the rec center, heading back towards my dorm, when I stop and look through the large wall of windows into the dance studio.
I’ve passed it every day, multiple times per day, all semester, but I’ve never gone in. There were always classes in there, ranging from beginners to longtime dancers, that I didn’t want to interrupt. Or I had studying to do. But now, the room is empty and the semester is over.
I’m free.
Before I can second-guess myself, I cut across the grass and test the studio door. Despite no one being inside, it’s unlocked.
As soon as I walk in, the automatic lights flicker on, and I’m home.
The smell of wood greets me, and I drop my backpack in the corner and kick off my shoes on the rug.
I haven’t been in a dance studio since the summer. I haven’t danced since summer, either. Not even in my dorm room. There isn’t enough space, and Dandan would definitely give me judgy eyes if I woke her up. So, tiptoeing across the floor and spinning feels like dipping my feet in a cool lake on a hot day. It feels refreshing, like my body is awake for the first time in months.
I’ve always enjoyed school and exercising my mind, but after months of studying and bending hunchbacked over my schoolbooks, it feels incredible to exercise my body.
There’s a small CD player in the corner, and I hit play, hoping something is already loaded up, and immediately pop music begins to play through the speakers in the corners of the room.
I slide to the center of the room and easily transition from ballet to a more contemporary style. As I lose myself in the music, the two begin to blend until I’m alternating from fluid movements to a grand jeté and back again.
I’m completely lost in the movement when the music turns off.
Stuttering to a stop, I turn to see a middle-aged woman standing near the stereo. “You’re great, but I have a class in here in five minutes.”
I blanch, blushing a deep red. “Sorry,” I mumble.
I jog the rest of the way to the dorms barefoot, my sneakers in my backpack, and dance into my room. In a startling turn of events, Dandan isn’t there, so I turn up the music on my laptop and dance to and fro as I clean the room and pack for winter break.
When I’m done cleaning, I watch a few bootleg episodes of a reality TV show someone has uploaded to the internet and then make my way down to the dining hall for lunch. Everyone is gone by this point in finals week, so the offering is just some stale sandwiches and a cereal bar. I opt for two bowls of marshmallow cereal, assuming my dad will have made a big dinner to welcome me home.
By the time I get back to my room, I only have a few minutes until Sadie will be there to pick me up. She lives in a suburb just outside the city that’s only fifteen minutes from my dad’s house, so she’s going to give me a ride since I don’t have a car. My dad tried to convince me he could afford to get me a car, but I told him that between the cost of textbooks and my meal plan, I wouldn’t have any money for gas and zero time for a job. So, he dropped it. Thankfully, Sadie has been an accommodating chauffeur.
She arrives just as I finish packing, and I turn off the lights, lock my door, and race down the back stairwell to meet her.
I expected her to be alone, but there’s a large man with dark red hair sitting in the front seat. He climbs out as soon as he sees me, offering the front seat to me, and climbs in the back.
“Thanks,” I say, pinching my brows together in a question as I slide into the seat.
“This is Devon,” Sadie says in answer. She smiles in the rearview mirror at him. “His car is at the shop, so I offered him a ride as well.”
“Sadie girl is our very own taxi service,” Devon says, reaching up and laying a hand on Sadie’s shoulder. Her cheeks blush.
Sadie girl? I want to tease her about the nickname and the behemoth in her backseat, but based on the way she keeps glancing in the rearview mirror, Sadie is in love with this guy.
“I haven’t seen you in months, it feels like,” I say.
She nods, the messy blonde bun on top of her head bouncing around. “I know. Work has been crazy, and I’m sure school has been busy for you, too, Miss Neuroscientist.”
“Whoa,” Devon says, leaning forward between the front seats. His cologne is strong enough that it tickles the back of my throat, and I have to clear my throat. “I didn’t expect Sadie to be friends with a brainiac.”
I frown. “Sadie is smart too.”
Sadie smiles at me but doesn’t say anything. She went into cosmetology school right after high school, and while I know she loves what she does, her parents make her feel bad about not going to college. Devon doesn’t need to pile on.
“Of course she
