Does Your Lack of Conscience Tell You Everything's Alright?

The group sits in a circle on the floor. Our instructor has a pen and paper in front of her. We stay quiet, awaiting her to address us. August brought Alex; he sits next to her, eyes scanning our small group.

He probably has no idea what the hell is going on.

Our instructor clears her throat.

"As you all know, we received first place medals in all of the competitions we entered," she starts.

Aaron lets out a cheer, pumping his fist in the air. She stares at him, as do the rest of the members of our team. He notices the eyes on him and lowers arm slowly.

"Right. Well we need to pick out a new theme for next years set of competitions so we can begin working on the show next practice," she continues.

To be quite honest, I can't remember her name. It's sad, I know; but the lack of food in my system causes my mind to work a lot slower than necessary for my survival.

"Does anyone have any ideas?"

Aaron raises his hand.

"No, Aaron, we will not do a tribute to Hairspray," she shoots down before he says anything.

He lowers his hand and pouts.

He makes the same suggestion everytime we have this meeting.

"Anyone else?" she asks.

No one says anything. If I had brain power, I would give an idea. But I don't have any of that.

I do get to eat tonight though. I look forward to it. More than I should, most likely.

August raises her hand.

"Yes, August?"

"We could do an Alice In Wonderland themed one," August suggests.

I snap my head in her direction at the sound of the name 'Alice.'

I still answer to the name when anyone calls it. I refuse to release that small shred of my normal life.

Alex notices my sudden attention to his younger sister, tilting his head to the side. Questions float in his eyes.

"I like that idea," our instructor scratches on the pad of paper.

"I figure we could each play a role. I could be the Mad Hatter; Aaron could be the Queen of Hearts; Mina can be the March Hare; Brent can be the Cheshire Cat; Bill can be the White Rabbit; Rachel can be the Caterpillar; O'Malley can play either Tweedledee or Tweedledum, not that it matters; and Elizabeth can play Alice," August explains.

Chills run through my veins.

How ironic is this? I should have listened to nature's signs. Maybe this is a turning point in my life. Or maybe this is another sign.

"You have too much time to think," Aaron comments.

August sticks her tongue out at him; he returns the gesture.

"Unless anyone else has an idea, we're doing Alice In Wonderland," our instructor announces.

Aaron raises his hand again.

"No zombies, Aaron," she says.

His hand drops to his side.

"Alice In Wonderland it is. Next: solos. August, you'll be taking you're age group like always. I don't really care what type of dance you do; though I'd prefer jazz. Mina and Brent, eighteen year olds in your designated gender. You should both do modern dance. Aaron, I want you to do the nineteen year old males with gymnastics. Elizabeth, you'll be doing—" I cut her off.

"I have to ask my dad first."

From the corner of my eye, I can see the confusion on Alex's face.

"You'll be doing nineteen year old females," our instructor asserts.

I guess I shouldn't fight it.

"What medium?" I mumble.

"Pointe," she smirks.

She can't be serious.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you're our Prima Ballerina and you know it."

I sigh. If I fight I'll only loose.

But I hate Pointe with a passion so great it is unmatched by Hitler's hate for Jews. I wish she understood that.

In order to understand, she would have to know everything though. She would have to know how I always wanted to be a famous Pointe dancer when I was a child, before I was taken from home. She would have to know how much it hurts when Jeffery strikes me with those shoes. She would have to know everything and I don't want to tell her.

"Okay, that's been decided. I want the soloist to think up a theme for their solos. I'll see you again next practice. You are dismissed," she says.

Various members stand. I remain sitting, massaging my temple with my fingers. Alex scoots to the spot next to me.

Why does he have to make everything difficult for me? I was hoping he would leave before I had the chance to talk to him.

I guess nothing ever goes according to plan.