People bustled around backstage like ants for their queen. Girls lined the practice bar, and when they left, the bar was slightly damper than it was when the last girl was there. My face felt caked with the makeup my mom had applied. My feet were already starting to flex subconsciously, working their muscles loose in the tiny tan flats I wore. All the feet around me were in their signature v-shape, as they had been trained to do since they first learned how to walk. Moms were running around frantically trying to get costume pieces, makeup, dance shoes, or any bottles of water they could conjure for their dancer.
Suddenly an explosion of applause and cheering came from behind the doors I was entrapped in. As if on cue, the butterflies in my stomach awoken from their hive, and began pushing, trying to push their way out. No matter how many mental commands I gave them to stop, they seemed to grow even more rabid.
“Ladies, ladies! Get in line please, it’s our turn. Big smiles, please!” Mrs. Nancy chanted the three sentences with each group of girls she found with purple dresses. Fifteen tiny feet in tan flats, including mine, scampered into a line awaiting the cue to sashay onto the stage. The ceaseless talking turned to whispers in an instant, and it became night behind stage.
However, in front, the line begin sashaying, and all fifteen girls walked onto a stage with multiple suns shining down on us. Beyond the suns, only pitch black was visible. The suns kept the dark at arms length, and left the stage gleaming.
Once we were positioned on the stage, a piano began playing throughout the entire auditorium. Our feet begin to point, and our arms stretched with every turn our feet made. A few of the girls stumbled over and blushed a crimson red, but they managed to turn to the dancer next to them and get back on track. Nobody cared about the mistakes, because Mrs. Nancy said that nobody expected too much out of a group of 9 year olds. It seemed like a kind thing to say at the time, but as I turned circles and circles on the stage, it dawned on me that we had no expectations other than to make a mistake.
So I didn’t make one.
I finished with the final turn and stretch of the arms, gave my best picture smile, and sashayed with the other 15 girls off the stage. I succeeded in keeping a perfect performance, and felt my butterflies return to the hive they came from. Mrs. Nancy was waiting, clapping her hands and whisper-shouting praise at us as each one of us passed by her. As I passed by Mrs. Nancy, my picture smile faded and turned into a smirk as I recalled the expectations that I had set for myself. I would not tell the others my expectations, though. Mrs. Nancy said the only way to succeed was to stay ahead of the game.