Faith

“Well done, Faith,” Danny calls, sitting back down to observe me. I’m trying to catch my breath; it’s been so long since I’ve danced, I’m surprised I even remembered the routine.

“Well done?” Theo repeats, turning to the kid on his other side. “Sure, she did fine. But don’t you agree, Mark, that precious Faith here didn’t loosen up for a single moment on stage? She danced like a zombie—or a corpse.”

The other guy, Mark, nods, his eyes narrowing in on me. “I noticed that, too,” he says. “She doesn’t know how to dance without the strict rules of ballet. I was waiting for her body to loosen up, but it didn’t. It was an act. A routine. There was no emotion. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed she hated dancing and was just doing it to please somebody.”

Crushed, I look at Danny, who furrows his brow. “You were a little stiff,” he admits, and I let out a huff but say nothing for a long moment. I’m humiliated and angry and all I want to do is smack all three of these guys in the face.

“You said you were looking for ballet dancers,” I say steadily, my eyes roaming over the trio. “That’s what I did. Ballet.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Danny continues as if I didn’t speak. “You did well. But the boys are right. Can you learn to loosen your body? To bend to the music? This team isn’t just any team, Faith. We need someone hot. Seductive. Someone who can get up on that stage and temporarily be someone else.” He pauses. “Is that you?”

My eyes meet Tara’s across the auditorium, and she gives me two thumbs up, encouraging me.

“Yes,” I say, my eyes traveling back to Danny. “I can do that.”

“Thanks for your time,” Theo says. “We’ll let you know if you made it.”

“Will I hear either way?” I ask, and hate myself for caring so much. I missed this, I missed dancing. And I hate that I had to go and remind myself of how much I missed it. Because the truth is, I probably won’t make it. And that will be a tough pill to swallow.

“We’ll contact you if you make it,” Danny says, glancing over his shoulder to where Tara still stands. “Tara, you’re up.”

It’s clear I’ve been dismissed, so I slink off the stage, all the powerful, beautiful energy I had flowing through me only moments ago dissipating into thin air and leaving me silently begging for more. It feels like coming down after a night of drinking—like a really bad hangover that just won’t subside. I want to cry, but that’s the last thing I need to do in front of these guys. Forget them. I’m not supposed to be dancing anyway.

“Don’t listen to them,” Tara whispers as I pass by her to take my seat in the back row. “You did amazing.”

“You’re up,” I say, holding back the tears until she’s at least out of range. I take a seat and watch my friend walk up on stage, and that’s when the tears come. As Tara dances, bringing a round of applause from all three men, all I can think about is how badly I screwed this up. I might not ever recover what little confidence I had left.

I escape out the back door just as Tara ends her jazz routine, too embarrassed to stick around, then make my way briskly back to the room to jump in the shower before Tara shows up and sees me crying. I stand under the hot water for what feels like ages, eyes closed, rinsing away the day. As I wash suds over my body, my fingers go automatically to the scars on the inside of my thighs. Red, jagged, once deep scars that had carried the burden of stress, anxiety, and self-hate for me. I haven’t cut in nearly a year, but when my self-doubt kicks in, sometimes my fingers itch to open those wounds.

When I finally emerge from the shower, my roommate is still nowhere to be seen. I have no doubt in my mind that Danny and the others are probably welcoming her onto the team right now, patting her on the back and shit-talking me. I don’t want to be a bitter sap, but I am, and now that I’ve had my moment to mope, I realized I promised my dad and Sadie that I would call and let them know how the day went.

As if this day could get any worse.

I call my dad's cell phone first, hoping he'll answer and I won't have to call Sadie, but no such luck. I dial her number next, my heart racing. It's not possible, of course, for her to know that I tried out for a dance team, but Sadie never fails to uncover my deepest and darkest secrets. I swear, the woman has eyes in the back of her head and cameras hidden everywhere.

She answers on the second ring.

"Hello, Faith."

"Hi, Mom." I cringe inwardly as the word leaves my mouth. Sadie insisted years ago that I call her Mom instead of Sadie. I resisted for as long as possible until Dad got after me one night. She's not my mother, she never will be, but whatever appeases her is what I have to do. It’s easier that way. "Is Dad there with you?" I ask. "He didn't answer his phone."

"He's working late tonight."

I sigh. Sometimes I wonder if he works overtime intentionally to get more of a break from his controlling wife.

"I see." Taking a seat on the foot of my bed, I nibble on my fingernails, a habit that Sadie absolutely loathes. It's gross, I know, but I find myself doing it just to spite her sometimes.

"How was econ?" Sadie asks. "Did you pay attention?"

Of course, no “how was your first day”, or “did you make any friends?” With Sadie, it’s straight to business every time.

“It was good,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. “And yes, I paid attention.”

“Good. We expect you’ll pass your classes with flying colors.”

“Right.” Just then, the dorm room door opens and Tara steps in, her eyes landing on me. Guilt takes hold of me when I see her face, and I speak into the phone. “Mom, I have to go. Homework. Call you guys tomorrow.” I hang up the phone and meet Tara’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks, and I shrug, unsure of how to answer that.

“I’m alright,” I say finally. “I’m really sorry, Tara, for running out on you. I kind of had a panic attack. It was a little stressful. But you—you danced beautifully.”

Tara smiles, but it’s forced. “No one tonight danced like you did,” she says. “And you don’t even see it, do you?”

I sigh and cup my hand over the back of my neck, rubbing the kink in it. “I don’t think they liked me.”

“They’re intimidated by you.”

I shake my head. “They’re not going to call.”

“You don’t know that.”

Tara’s insistent support overwhelms me, and before I know what’s happening, tears are streaming down my face, streaking my makeup and forcing a red flush to my skin. God, I’m a blubbering mess.

“Faith,” Tara says softly, and she gets up to wrap her arms around me as if we’re best friends and have been for life. “You’re far too hard on yourself,” she whispers. “Be proud, girl. You killed it out there tonight.”

I have a hard time believing her, but it’s useless to argue, so I force a sad smile and wipe the tears from my cheeks, wishing we’d never stumbled across the team in the quad to begin with.

“Hey,” Tara says, nudging me. “How about we blow off the rest of our classes today and go shopping? We can update your wardrobe. I think it’s years overdue.”

I grin. “Blowing off class on the first day of school?”

“It’s one day, Faith,” she says. “Before we worry about school, we need to find you again.”