Tripping

Since I was five years old, I’ve been in ballet. My mom felt it would help me grow to be a normal, successful girl, and she felt that years and years of tenuous dancing was the thing to do it. I can thank her for my grace, though. Because of ballet, I know how to keep my head high and my footsteps light. When I got to high school, the older kids tried to scare us into believing that we would all trip on the stairs during our first week. I wasn’t too surprised when it turned out they were telling the truth. I’m not sure if it’s part of being in a new school, or what, but I watched many grade nine students, some of my own friends, trip on those stairs. I had to remember to thank my mom for forcing me to go to ballet.
Three months into high school, and I still hadn’t tripped at all. I had a routine set out that was foolproof. I keep my eyes forward, and my mind alert. My reflexes have probably increased since I got to high school.
I was taking my usual route to Science class with my armful of books. It was my only class upstairs, but I wasn’t worried. I never was. I don’t fall.
Walking down the stairs, I saw brown wavy hair that haunted my memories.. It was Mike Fields. My exboyfriend. He never took this way. Seeing him, happy, caught me off guard. My feet caught the next step, and I went flying forward. My books slipped from my grip, and smashed into the girl in front of me. She swore and fell. It was a domino game made of teenagers. All up the stairs people started falling, and at the base, was me. A red glow formed in my cheeks when I saw Mike staring at me with confusion and, what I could only describe as, pity.
*****
I started eating lunch in the music room. My best friend, Max, played in a band. He was bass guitar, and adored playing. While I would sit and eat my lunch, he would be standing, giving me a show. I never knew how much someone could do with a bass.
The nice thing about the music room was that almost no one ever came here. It was like our own little corner of safety. We could talk about anything without having to worry about being bothered.
“I’m thinking that I might want to go faster, but Brian says that’ll screw everyone up,” Max told me, rolling his eyes, “It’s retarded,”
“Brian is just afraid,” I laughed.
We heard shrill laughter, and both of us looked to the door. In entered two tall blonde girls.One was Mike’s new girlfriend. She was tall, skinny, and had everything I wanted but didn’t have. Her gorgeous blue eyes caught my gaze, and she chuckled.
“Is Mr. MacDonald here?” she asked.
“Nope,” Max said offhandedly, walking back to his bass, “I think he’s in the office,”
They turned to leave without another word. Not even a ‘thank you’. Max and I exchanged glances, and I breathed out a sigh of relief. That was the most I’d ever been in a room with that awful girl, and it was just as terrible as I’d imagined it.

*****
It should come as no surprise to learn that over the next four years of high school, I never spoke to Rebecca. I had gym with her one year, but that was all. We never paired up, so we never had to talk. I started dating Max for a while, but we ended up breaking up. We’re still good friends, but not best. Mike ended up getting that girl pregnant, and now they’re living together. I think they might truly be in love, and I suppose I’m happy for them.
I’m surprised at how different I became over high school. As a grade nine student, I would try to fade into the background, hide from the judgmental stares of my peers. I’m graduating soon, and I’ve stopped hiding. I’m one of the top dancers in the dance club, and I adore performing for people. I think the biggest change that I’ve made over the years is that I trip on those stairs, and I don’t care anymore.