The drive to the studio felt long. Rain slapped against the world, soaking the earth once more. Everything drooped. The trees and flowers leaned forwards, their branches and petals touching the ground. The darker and more shadowy houses took away the joy. I wasn't excited for ballet. Instead of the usual daydreaming of clean floors and shiny mirrors, Avani and Leila were all I could think about. Does she want to be my friend or not? She did ask to play today and didn't she say she wanted us to be closer?

The houses and trees changed to shops and restaurants. A familiar feeling of excitement rushed through my mind. Avani and Leila were removed from my thoughts, replaced by ballet. I hope we work on fondus. I've been practicing them all weekend. Will Kylie be there? Maybe we can dance together again.

My mother pulled up into the parking lot. Kylie. I smiled as I saw my dance friend walk across the parking lot to the back door. Her black hair was in a high bun, similar to mine. "I think I'm going to get out," I announced as the car stopped. I pushed open the door and slid out. The rain stinged against me like little bees and the branches of the tree didn't protect me. By the time my mom joined me, my pink leotard was a darker shade and my whitish blond hair was a wet mop. "What took you so long?"

"Non ho mai detto di aver dovuto attendere fino a me," she said, heading for the back door. "Veloce!"

Back to Italian, I sighed and followed her to the door. She never told me to leave without her either.

The warm air of the studio pressed against me and I smiled with relief. My mom sat down on a plush bench next to the other mothers. She began to rummage through the mess of her bag, a frown etched on her face.

I turned around to the open area. The other girls were milling around. They chatted to each other and showed off their moves. I spotted Kylie talking to another girl. I took notice of the other girl's spotless leotard and the mascara under her eyes. I turned to see if my mom noticed, but she was busy typing on her phone. If that girl had my mom, she would think twice about wearing mascara to a rehearsal.

I wriggled my way through the tangle of girls to Kylie. Hot bodies pressed against me and my ballet slippers soaked the rainwater on the carpeted floor. I found an opening between two girls and popped out besides Kylie.

Kylie smiled. Her blue braces shone. "Hi, Lucia! This is Kaylin, a friend from my school."

"Nice to meet you," I said, forcing a smile. I couldn't help but feel disappointed. I already lost one friend, did I have to deal with another?

As I turned around to see my mom, I could have sworn she took a picture.

"Nice to meet you, too," Kaylin said. For some reason I couldn't understand, Kaylin burst into giggles. Since giggling was contagious, soon Kylie joined in.

"Okay, girls," said my instructor Mr. Brink from the studio door, "I'm ready for you."

I stood back with Kylie and Kaylin as the rest of the girls streamed into the mirror-lined room. I'd learned over the years, it's better to wait to go inside instead of heading off straight away. You'll only be shoved into the corner.

"And now you three." Mr. Brink nodded his head toward the three of us. I stepped forward, worried he would notice my wet slippers. He was always so picky about the floor of the studio. Every wrapper and every piece of lint was too much for Mr. Brink. He always ordered us to sweep the room at the end of class.

Mr. Brink smiled at me as I walked through the doorway. He didn't seem to notice anything wrong about my slippers. Why do I always get myself worked up about these things. They never seem to bother Avani. I let out a soft groan. Why am I always thinking about her?

"I'm so glad to see you could make it, Kaylin." Mr. Brink's voice intruded my thoughts. "I've never seen you at at a Tuesday practice before. You usually only come on Sundays."

"Well, Kylie's been complaining of loneliness."

Loneliness? I've been here the whole time. I stepped away from the conversation, my eyes beginning to burn. In a daze I found myself walking over to the barres. My hands fumbled around for a good place to grasp and my sight became blurry with wet tears.

"I think Lucia's crying," I heard a whisper.

"Should we do something?" Another whisper echoed through the room.

The first tear trickled down my cheek, making my face wetter than it already was. A whole stream of tears soon followed. My bottom thumped against the floor. I hugged my legs and let my tears rub against my tights.

"Girls, why didn't you tell me?" Mr. Brink. Stop crying. STOP crying!

"Lucia's crying," Mr Brink said, his voice more distant than before. He must be telling my mom. Mom is going to kill me! I sobbed even louder, my body thudding against the mirrors. Stop crying. Stop. Stop now.

"Lucia, what's the matter?" The sound of hurried feet pattered against the floor towards me. Warm hands took mine and tried to pull me up. I tugged my arms away, tears still rolling down my cheeks. To my blurry vision, everything seemed to be in a veil of plastic.

"Lucia, get up now," my mom hissed in Italian. "You're making yourself look bad."

Without waiting for a reply, she ripped my arms from around my legs and dragged me from my place on the floor. I was vaguely aware of the other girls whispering to each other and my mother prattling in Italian. My only focus was on Avani and Kylie.

Rain soaked my scalp and I spluttered as cold air embraced me. I wiped away the water and tears from my eyes to see my mother leaning down towards me. Her concerned eyes stared into mine and I turned away. The building looks so much smaller now. The sandy bricks squatted down to the earth and buried themselves underneath the pavement.

"Not telling me anything won't help yourself or anyone," my mother said. Each word sounded like a dart hitting its mark. "What happened there?"

Why was I so stupid? Why am I so stupid? My fingernails dug themselves into my palms and sweat added itself to my already tear-and-rain streaked face.

My mom sighed. "To the car, now!"

I trudged over the concrete. My toes felt every little bump and crease.The rough surface didn't hurt, not as much as the turmoil inside. Why did I burst out like that? Mom will never allow me to go to D. Smith Nature Center.

I grabbed the handle of the door and gave a half-hearted tug. I just want to go home and sleep. With my other hand wiping away the rain, tears, and sweat on my face, I forced the door open. I slid inside, the dry air cooling me down. The tears stopped flowing, replaced by hiccups. Each time I hiccuped, a searing pain rose in my throat and I found myself scrunching into a ball. When the attack was over, I released.

"Close the door," my mom ordered as she strided over to the car. "We're going home."