Sellout Read Free Page A

standing room only. I chose a spot on the far wall across from the stage to focus on and help my turning, just like in practice.
    “I’m going to throw up,” I whispered to Heather.
    “Me too,” she mouthed back.
    I closed my eyes and hummed along with the first five bars of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. On the sixth bar, when the bell part began, we moved our toes from first position to third and back again. We lifted our arms in half circles and spun like dolls, puppets attached to strings.
    I kept in time with the music when the drums began to pound. I stretched my body harder than in practice and poured everything I had into our first pirouette turns. I bent my body in two and swept my arms across the floor just like we practiced. Marcia would be so proud.
    We glided across the stage, flitting like little butterflies. After lowering gracefully to touch our toes, we lifted again, and tiptoed slowly into one large circle in the center of the stage. Our bodies leaned into the circle and out again, creating a sort of ocean wave.
    Marcia was a huge fan of kicking lines, adding them into almost every routine. We first kicked at waist level to show off our flexibility. Stephanie glared at me from her position, gloating over her perfect form. I kicked higher, but couldn’t wait to break away to the next pose.
    Pure adrenaline took over toward the last movement. My legs shook as I traveled across the stage. My head began tospin out of control, like my brain was in a washing machine set on high. My turning spot on the wall was now lost to me.
    The other dancers locked arms with me. The beat sped up during the last series of eight counts of the song and so did my heartbeat. It felt like we were descending from the highest roller coaster in the world. I wanted to lift my arms and scream as loud as I could.
    The music accelerated and we began our double turns. I smiled and looked to find Tilly. I landed my turn, but Tilly wasn’t watching. Instead, she was searching through her purse. Maybe her cell was ringing.
    Our leaps were next and I was already dizzy from the turns. I brushed away a few hairs that were blowing in my face and took a deep breath. I could feel the scarves weighing heavier in my hair, but I kept jumping, arms level, legs outstretched.
    Dad was on the edge of his chair, swaying along to the music. My mother and Tilly looked like they were watching a completely different show, their eyes wide open, almost in shock. The dancers leaped into the final formation.
    One at a time we sashayed off the stage. It wasn’t until my turn to exit that I realized the scarves weren’t in my hair anymore. They had slipped and were now draped around my shoulders.
    I searched for Marcia in the wings. Her eyes were stuck on me, and not because of my perfect leaps, either. One break from formation and she would flip, scarves or no scarves. Grabbing the scarves was out of the question.
    I prayed Matt Billings couldn’t see me now.
    The room spun like I was on a broken carnival ride still in motion. I could hear a gasp from the direction of the crowd, no doubt intended for me.
    I wanted lightning to strike me right at that moment. At least I would stop spinning. Now that would be a good show. Sweat beads prickled every part of my body, including my ears. My heartbeat banged more loudly than the music. I couldn’t hear a thing anymore.
    I wasn’t sure in which direction I was turning, but finally I was offstage. I bent down toward my knees so my vision could clear, and peeked out at the remaining dancers onstage. They each detoured around our exiting point, not like we had practiced at all.
    I looked around the stage. My scarves lay right in the path of our dramatic exit.
    Two more dancers needed to make it beyond the scarves and through the curtain, Heather and Stephanie. The scarves were too far out onstage for me to grab them. I could see Marcia glaring. I tried to swallow but my throat felt like it was slowly closing up.
    I