I took a deep breath and adjusted my skirt. I checked my make up for the fourth time, afraid that I was sweating off my cover up. Everything looked fine. I tightened my clip; flipped my hair. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. My teacher popped up behind me.
“Bailey, you ready?” I nodded, too nervous to speak. She squeezed my shoulders. “You’ll be fine, I promise. You’ve been practicing this for months.” With that, she kissed my forhead and left me to pratice. I ran over the movements, trying to be low key about it; the last thing I wanted was for someone to see my choreography before hand. I took a deep breath; I was ready.
I walked backstage, giving my name and music. I was next. I heard my name announced, and the girls from my school cheering my name. I skipped toward the middle of the stage, winked at the judges, and turned round, facing the back.
The spotlight bore into my back. I took one last breath, and felt the beat pulse through my body. I was ready for this.
I was a dancer.