༺ SEVEN ༻

I decide to practice ballet on Sunday. Sonya has her friend, Brenda, sleeping over and Mom didn't mind bringing me to Sports before she did the groceries, so here I am, all alone in the attic.

Well, it's not really like an attic. If I look up at the ceiling it is, yes, but the walls and mirrors are neat and no dust bothers me anywhere.

I copy the moves Clara does in the play, but can't help to practice a bit for Sugarplum Fairy, because that role is also amazing. All the roles are cool.

But it's always Clara that I want. Not only because she's the lead. I'd say she... relates the most to me, in some way?

Someone enters the attic. I don't stop dancing, because they're allowed in here and I'm almost finished anyway.

I see my reflection in the mirror, then of whoever entered. It's Janson. And something about his presence reminds me of last Friday, so I automatically suck my stomach in.

"Looks great. Your moves are nice," he says.

My gaze softens. I finish the dance, then do my cool down routine as Janson is doing I don't even know what.

"Any tips?" I look up once I'm sitting in a split. "Do I need to eat lunch even earlier? Smoother movements? Are my shoes okay?"

"I think it's fine," he replies.

My eyes almost widen with panic. "It's fine." I swallow. "What can I do to make it better? I really want this part, sir. It would be good on my report for France. I want to—"

"Join the most famous ballet school in the world, I know." He straightens his back. "I think that instead of trying to exactly copy the role's movement, you have to focus on yourself. Don't forget about how it's originally done, but don't turn into a mannequin. You've got to amaze the crowd."

I nod, understanding.

"The rest.." His eyes trail over my body. "Just eight pounds off and the movements will go smoother. Not more, not less."

I nod again. "Okay. Thank you."

The difference between telling me to lose weight and telling me he can see my lunch is different. This doesn't hurt as much, because first of all, I asked for the advice, and he's saying it to help. And he might be right too. I'll feel more lightweight as I dance.

A few salads and runs isn't that hard to reach. I'll lose those eight pounds before the auditions even begin.

After calling Mom I'm done, she picks me up and we're driving back home.

"How'd it go?" Her voice is soft. "I know you've wanted to be Clara since you were young."

"It went great," I say. "I got some tips. I'll go practice the days I can and audition for her. Hopefully, I'm good enough."

"I'm sure you will be." She smiles at me. "And if you happen to not get the role... that's fine, too. Don't start overwhelming yourself, love."

"I won't," I promise.

"Ava called," she says. "To ask how you're doing on the new ballet school."

Ava is my old ballet teacher. Sweet woman. Maybe too sweet, because I feel like she wasn't always honest when she gave tips.

Man, I'm complicated to understand.

I like sweet people because I'm usually kind myself, but if I want tips I want the harsh, but honest ones.

"Well, it's not really a school." I shrug. "But it's nice. I like how they teach. If only the attic was a bit bigger."

Mom rests her hand on my leg. "They'll have another location once you're gonna start practicing for The Nutcracker. I believe you're gonna need a lot of dancers."

"Yeah," I confirm. "If I get to be Clara, it means dancing with a boy, or man. I've never done that before. If you don't count first grade, then."

A laugh leaves her mouth. "I'm wishing you luck already. I'm sure it'll go perfect. You're nice to work with."

I look down as I smile. "I hope. Time passed at work yesterday. But working at a restaurant is way different than dancing."

"Did Thomas help you out a bit?"

"Still trainin' me," I tell her. "He does it well. I like him." A pause. "What's for dinner?"

"Sunday is burger day. Your father is already getting them ready. We might as well sit down once we arrive."

I nod. Soon, we're inside and the smell of the hamburgers fill my nose. It's always a nice way to end the week, but not today. Eight pounds off.

I make a salad with lettuce and some vegetables as Dad works on the other side of the kitchen. When he calls that we can eat, I'm the last to sit down because I had to finish making my meal.

Newt watches me put the salad down before I sit down myself. His face is made of stone when his eyes trial over my food. "What's that?"

"It's a salad," I say delightfully.

He tenses, and I sense another argument coming. Because of that, I decide not to shoot any angry words at him. "I can see that. I mean.. why are eating a salad?"

I glare up for a second. "It's healthier. I'll eat hamburgers after auditions, don't worry. It's just for this week. I have to get through the auditions."

"Rose—"

"Please don't go there, Newt," I add, smiling softly at his worry. "I said I'll be careful. Besides, burgers or not, it's food."

And I love food. Food's what we all need. I love providing people food, eating it, and watching beautiful pieces of cake in a bakery.

But as a ballerina, I feel like there are strict rules when it comes to a diet or at least the body of the dancer, so if I have to lose eight little pounds, that's not too bad.

No one's ever told me to do that before anyway, so I'm glad this is the first and hopefully last time. All I've got to do is be a little more careful about what I eat.

Newt no longer replies and continues eating his own food. I'm silently afraid I might've hurt him, but I didn't say anything that could've hurt him, right? It's food. I prick my fork into a tomato. It's still food. I'm still eating after all.

Because I'm not that clueless. I know about disorders and health things. I know there's people struggling with depression, under-eating, binge eating, and all kinds of mental disorders.

So what I'm meaning to say with it's still food, I mean that I'm just eating healthy to lose a few pounds. I won't start specifically getting obsessed with it, because I can't even imagine doing so.

All my respect goes to people with those kinds of issues, because I can't imagine what it's like. I can't imagine seeing the world only from the dark side, or starving yourself as a punishment, or anything related to that.

"How was everyone's day?" I look back up. "Sonya, did you and Brenda have a good time?"

She nods happily. "Yeah! We didn't do much, just played some games, but it was awesome."

❤︎︎

I just finished bandaging my feet because of the damage pointe shoes make, and put a serum on a few bruises I have after training so hard, when the doorbell rings and I realize Thomas is here to pick me up.

I already explained everyone the situation so they wouldn't be confused why Thomas out of all people would give me a ride, so immediately leave after we greet.

"Do you have hockey?" I wonder. "Or are you just gonna bore yourself out those two hours?"

"There's no hockey practice today, so I have the rink all for myself. I guess I'll try." He shrugs, mostly focused on the road. "And also try not to beat the shit out of Janson."

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to smile or not. "Why do you dislike him that much?"

"He's a toxic teacher," Thomas says. "There's a reason Teresa left. But I can't make you quit so I won't try either."

"If I notice him being a bad teacher, I'll quit at Sports and go somewhere else," I promise. He looks a bit tense every time we talk about Janson, so I hope it helps. "Have you seen Teresa yet?"

"No, sorry. Now she quit ballet she has a lot more time to study. She's even better at chemistry than me."

I nod. "Okay. It's nice to see you're friends with her. In my hometown and the neighborhood I lived in before this, it wasn't even bloody possible to talk to a boy without getting set up or somethin'. Or are you together with her?"

He lets out an audible laugh. "No, I'm not together with anyone. But well, if you hang out too much with the opposite gender here you'll also be seen together. By now they've given up on Teresa and I because she blurted out she already has her eyes on another boy. Luckily. Saved me a lot."

I smile, too. But I'm not sure if Thomas is a friend. It just feels different than any other friend I've had... probably because I haven't had much and it was never a boy.

"Thank you for the ride, Thomas." I hop out of car once we're there. "Any special occasions at Mamma Mia tonight?"

He walks toward the sport building with me, cocking his head. "A bella new colleague is gonna show up."

I groan, yet can't help but to chuckle with it. "You're a flirt toward every new colleague you get? First I'm the bella girl, then the other new one is? Real mature, Thomas."

"What other one?" He's teasingly pulling a strand of my hair again. "Only bella colleague that I know is you, Blondie. Use the brain that's stomped in that cute head."

My face fills with fire. "You're a ridiculous flirt."

"You're a blushing blondie. It's working." Thomas grins. "Now, we've arrived at the destination."

He points at the stairs toward the attic, and I nod. "Alright. Thanks for the ride, again."

"I'll just wait here." He leans against a pole. "Inspecting people. And trying not to storm in to kill Janson. And then I'll practice hockey."

I smile to myself at his words, which don't make a lot of sense. "Bye, Thomas."

"Good luck with ballet, Blondie," he says. Once I'm almost up the stairs and out of sight, "Don't follow Janson's tips!"