If there’s one thing about being a dancer is that your leg muscles are stronger than your average person. Sometimes, I hate having dance practice because it takes away my time from doing things I actually wanted to do. Days like today, I’m grateful for my dance background as I run down the streets of Brooklyn to make it to dance practice. For a normal person, this would’ve been a 15 minute walk; for me, it’s a 5 minute run.
With each step, I hear my things jumbling around in my book bag; my metal water bottle and house keys making the loudest noise. Come on, Mol; you got this!
I get to the dance academy and yank on the front door. Fuck. I looked at the time on my phone; it was 4:30. Practice started literally 5 minutes ago. Jennifer had a strict policy on lateness when it came to practice, especially when it came to the advanced classes. Jennifer would give her advanced dancers a 3-minute grace period to make it to the rehearsal. If you weren’t in the studio by then, she will lock the door and not open it. I felt stupid standing out there, looking into the small window of the studio. I was never late for practice; I’ve only ever called out from it. I felt like running home and hiding underneath my covers and shutting out the world. I couldn’t tell Aaron that I had missed another week of dance practice because of our band practice; he would feel like complete shit.
As I turn away from the studio to walk home, I hear the door being unlocked. I turned around to see Jennifer opening the door, looking at me.
“Get in here,” she demanded. I ran back toward the studio and entered it. She locked the door and immediately walked in front of me.
“You know what time you have to be here,” Jennifer said to me.
“I know,” I said, trying to downplay the situation. “The buses were slow and—“
“Has every bus this past month been slow?” Jennifer said more than asked; I already knew she wasn’t buying it.
“I have other things I have to do, Pep,” I said, annoyed. “You do know that I’m in a whole school choir, right?”
“You have an obligation, Mol,” Jennifer emphasized. “And for you to miss all this rehearsal time is unacceptable. You never used to miss dance rehearsal.”
“Well, I’m here now,” I dismissed, trying to walk past Jennifer to go into the locker room. She immediately blocked my way. “Pep?”
“You’re not dancing today,” Jennifer said as she crossed her fingers.
“So I actually make it to rehearsal, and now I can’t dance?” I asked, not understanding Jennifer’s logic.
“You were late,” Jennifer reminded me. “You know the rules around here.”
“I’m literally here though!” I snapped back, raising my voice. “Why even open the door if you weren’t going to let me dance?”
“For one, I am responsible for your whereabouts when you should be at practice on time,” Jennifer explained, folding her arms across her chest. “Secondly, you’re going to sit here and watch the rehearsal and as punishment, you’re staying after to learn the steps, since you wanted to be late for rehearsal, you’ll stay late as well.”
“That’s not fair!” I complained, not understanding Jennifer’s logic behind this scenario.
“Mollie, it is what it is,” Jennifer emphasized. “If I make one exception for you, I have to do so for everyone. Like I said, you know how things work around here.” I rolled my eyes, immediately grabbing my backpack to walk away. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not staying here to do nothing for 2 hours,” I said.
“You’re not getting it,” Jennifer began to say. “These are the hours I technically look after you and for weeks, I’ve been covering for you. Mom is gonna start wondering why you don’t know the routine after awhile and I;m not going to be the blame for your dumb, teenager decisions.”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m 15; not 5!” I yelled in Jennifer’s office. The other dancers in the studio turned around to look into the office window.
“Then stop acting like you’re 5, Mol,” Jennifer said to me; she seemed annoyed more than embarrassed. “Seriously, Mol; if you don’t want to dance anymore then just let me know and someone who wants to dance will take your place.” Before Jennifer leaves the office, she turns around one more time to look at me. “I hope you realize that no boy is worth losing your passion over.” My eyes widened; Jennifer’s comment took me completely off-guard. How the fuck does she know? Did Milo tell her out of spite? That’s the person I once called my best friend. Some fucking best friend, huh?
“Whatever,” I finally said, looking away and down on my phone. I tried to play it cool, but I couldn’t bear looking at Jennifer. If I did, my face will tell her everything.
Jennifer simply sighed and closed the office door behind her. I rolled my eyes and got up from my seat, watching the other dancers learn a routine I was not familiar with. I feel my face get hot; this is a routine they all know and I had no idea about. I feel my stomach turn; it was going to be a long night.
Letters From Liz. 