The Other Shoe Drops II Charlie
"You're tied together with a smile, but you're coming undone..."--Taylor Swift
"Keep twirling girls! Point your toes more. I swear, if I see another sickled foot I'm going too..." Madame Bowditch barked as the rest of the company did their best to live up to her instructions. Madame Bowditch was an intense instructor, someone Charlotte had never even imagined ever meeting in her life. All of her past ones were tough, but they were compassionate and if Char didn’t understand something, they’d take it out. Not her though. Madame B was ruthless. She wanted things done her way, and if they weren’t, well, all hell broke loose. Her assistant wasn’t much better. Madame Lefebvre loved to pick on the dancers, pointing out their every flaw, every bad thing they’ve done. Together they were unstoppable. And together, Charlie felt herself shudder in their presence.
The thing was, Charlotte loved dancing. Everything about it was perfect. The way she feels so powerful when she executes her jumps, yet how she feels so dainty when she does her turns. It’s the closest thing she had ever felt to being a princess. Sure she had those little kid tea parties and dressing up on Halloween, but she never felt like a princess. Not until she got out on the stage and begun to dance. Letting her feet carry her across the wood floor and up in the air. She felt pretty and perfect and most of all….untouchable.
It hadn’t occurred to her that her thoughts wandering meant that she was losing her balance. As she mulled over the way dancing made her feel, she was tipping over on her left side. Her spins became looser and then BAM. She lost her balance. Falling on her butt, the music stopped and she looked up to see Devil 1 and Devil 2 glaring at her. “Sorry,” She muttered and picked herself up. Madame Lefebvre glared and huffed, but said no word. “Take Five!” The other one shouted and the dancers immediately broke off into their own cliques. Seeing as Charlotte was the newest member, she didn’t really have any friends and besides, they all seemed to not want a new person. So typically Char just went off to a corner to keep practicing. It’s all she really could do.
On her way over to her special spot, she overheard her name being mentioned by Madame Bowditch. Sneaking over quietly, she found a hidden place to shove her body in. Pressing her ear near the door in which they were behind, she listened closely.
“Charlotte, the blonde one. She had so much potential.” Madame Bowditch said, and Charlie’s face turned up. “But something…something’s not quite right with her.” What? What wasn’t right? “She obviously is dedicated. I always see her practicing her pirouettes in that abandoned corner on breaks, but just….I don’t know what it is.”
“I know exactly what you’re talking about. She certainly wants to be here, that’s not the issue. It’s that…well, she might want to think about losing some of her weight. It’s clear she’s a bit…there’s a weight difference for sure.”
Charlotte stood up from her spot and instantly felt sick. Her hands went to her waist and closed her eyes. It wasn’t like Charlotte hadn’t noticed the discrepancy, but she just thought it was her. Maybe….maybe that was the reason that none wanted to be her friend. Maybe that was the reason the instructors were whispering to each other. Her whole body started getting warmer and she knew she needed to leave. Picking up her things, she slipped out of the backdoor, hoping no one saw her. Charlie hardly felt better after leaving—in fact she felt worse. As she ran up the hill toward her apartment, she kept thinking about what the ladies said. Potential. Potential that was skewed by her weight. She could be the next Prima Ballerina, but only if she lost some pounds. Only if she looked like every other girl there.
Charlie reached her building in record time. Bolting up the three flights of stairs, she swung her apartment door opened and slammed it shut, letting herself slide down it. Bringing her legs up to her chest, she let her head fall to her knees and sobbed. Loud, hard cries rang through her apartment, echoing off ever surface they could. She had thought dancing was her escape, somewhere she felt good about herself, and it turned out to be a lie. So she just sat there and cried. It was all she could do now.