Glitch

"Dedication, talent, and determination. Those three little things could make someone's career, and lack of them could destroy it. I really hope we have all three, because if not, we're totally screwed." -Mykynli Anastasia Elizabeth Adams, Age 17

"Now Elaina, that show ran a bit longer than I anticipated, so you're going to need to start tying and lacing your shoes before we get there,"

"I know Mom. Already got them on."

"Ghillies, not ballet shoes right?"

"Yes Mom! I know, Irish is Fridays. It always has been."

“Don't use that tone with me Elaina!”

Growing up, there was not a person in the world more frustrating than my mother. It's not that I hated her, I could never hate her, but if I had to pick a person to spend an entire afternoon with any one person I know, she probably wouldn't be the top of the list.

Dance was my mother's one and only priority most days. She taught at a local dance academy, where she had had my sister and I enrolled before we could even walk. When my sister, Pippa, had her foot crushed in a car accident a few years before, she found she could never dance again. What made this more unfortunate was the fact that Pippa was the only sister with any true passion for dancing. I sometimes liked it, other times, hated it, yet Pippa was always full of vibrant joy when she danced.

As you can probably assume, Mom piled all her dreams for Pippa onto me, and with that, tried to push away my own.

I sighed, and let my head fall against the car window. "Sorry Mom."

Sounding almost like I had seconds before, Mom sighed and mumbled, "It's alright honey."

I bit my lip and focused my attention to my cell phone. That's my mom for you, turning everything into something awkward.

10 unread messages. Four from Kimi, two from Mickie, and the rest from Margret. Since usually Margret won't text me, or anyone, unless it was something very important.

"Message 1 of four... Jeez..." I muttered under my breath. "What's got her worked up?"

Ignoring the huge amount of typos and text speak, I tried to decipher the texts. Something about Rising Sun, something about Kimi's... Urfle? A part of me didn't want to know what she meant by urfle.

Before I had even a chance to read the other six messages, my phone began to ring obnoxiously, blasting a techno song I rarely listened to. I pressed the green answer key,
and held the phone nervously to my ear. “Hello?”

I quickly pulled the phone away from my ear the very second my friends began screaming on the other end. “Jeez! Guys, what's going on?”

More screaming gibberish followed. Three words I could make out were “show,” “cord,” and sign.” Beyond that, I had absolutely NO idea.

“One girl at a time!” I shouted. Really, it wasn't worth my breath, they could hear me just about as well as I could understand them.

“Margret! Gimme the phone! I'll tell her!” Kimi shouted, probably right in Margret's ear.

“But Kimi! I wanna tell her!”

“Margret!”

“Fine!”

My friends hushed as Kimi took the phone. “Lane, you still there?”

“Yup. What's going on?” I asked nervously, unsure if I really wanted to know or not.

By the sound of it, Kimi took a long, deep breath to calm herself before speaking. “Do you remember my uncle Ethan? Mom's brother?”

Ethan... Ethan... “Oh yeah! The one that took you to Santa Monica a few years back?”

“That'd be the one! Well, you know how he works for Rising Sun?”

“Of course, you'd never let me forget, remember?”

“Haha, right. Anywayyy, he's back in town, and he came to our show!”

I'd have to say, this most certainly peaked my interest. “What did he think?” I asked.

Again, the girls began to become giddy and squealing again.

“Kimi! Focus! What did he think?” I asked desperately.

“He said we're almost there, but we're missing something,” she said, the confidence in her voice fading, “But we can't figure out just what that something might be. Do you think you could try to figure it out before practice tomorrow morning? Well, unless you have dance tomorrow morning, then--”

“No, no, Kimi, I'll try! Besides, I don't have dance again to Monday again. I'll be there!”

“Great! I'll call you later tonight, kay Laney?”

I nodded, even though she couldn't see. “Alright Kim, see you later!”

“See ya!”

And with that, the phone clicked off.

Mom turned to me as she pulled up to a read light. “What was that about?”

I smiled brightly and clasped the phone tightly in my hands. “Kimi's uncle says we could make it big. That's what I got out of it, but...”

A strange look of concern took over my mother's eyes. “But what?”

“He says we're missing something. Didn't say what, just something.” I mumbled. There were a million things we could be missing. Why couldn't he have even narrowed it down? Given us a hint, a nudge in the right direction, anything?

“I know what it is,” Mom said with a smile, “and you'll figure it out pretty quickly too.”

This had made me a little suspicious. How did she know, and why wouldn’t she just tell me? I had come to the conclusion that she didn't know, and in actuality, she was merely toying with me, a reverse psychological way to make me figure out on my own, and give me the confidence that I'd be able to come up with it. That's just the way my mother was, so assuming that that was her plan wasn't exactly far fetched.

As I pulled my shoulder length blonde hair into a braid, I began to wonder if my mother really did know, and if she did, what did she know? I hate it when people don't tell me what's going through their heads. I did as a child, a young teen, and throughout the rest of my life.

“Can I have a hint?” I asked hopefully, batting my green eyes innocently.

With her infamous taunting smirk, a look both Pippa and I had inherited, she replied, “Maybe after dance, if you're good.”

And with that, she brought the car to a stop in the parking lot, flung the car door open, and walked away.

“Thanks for leaving me here!” I cried, slamming the car door and chasing after her.

“You're welcome!” She cried back, sounding almost like my older sister.

The studio was almost full with dancers when Mom and I arrived. A few of the girls were stretching, another few leaving the changing room, and a couple gossiping in the back corner. It wasn't the most exciting place in the world. I grew tired of the names and the faces around me after a few years, and once you got to my level, your team members never changed.

I suppose there was one face I never grew tired of, one name I didn't mind saying over and over again.

Kevin McMurray. The handsome, dashing, talent, very intelligent, handsome, (wait did I say that already?) only male dancer in the advanced group. Did I mention he's actually straight? Yeah, that's kind of an important one.

I suppose I should point out that he's 21, four years older than me, almost five, but really, it didn't bother me in the least.

Kevin came walking into the studio about ten minutes after I arrived. He walked in smelling like his sweet cologne, wearing his favorite white gym shirt and a pair of navy shorts.

Two of the older dancers, Hannah and Cadie, instantly turned their attention away from their conversation to Kevin, and both began to shamelessly pull down their tops and roll up their shorts and they winked at the man of my dreams.

"Hey Kevin baby!" Cadie called flirtatiously.

"Hey Cadie," he said brightly, "um, you might want to fix your shirt, it's sort of falling off, haha."

With an unenthusiastic scoff, Cadie mumbled, "Thanks for the heads up Kevin."

Hannah shrugged and adjusted herself. “It's not worth trying Cay, he's got Aria.” The last word, Aria, was no doubt more painful for Hannah to say as it was for me to hear. Hannah may have not been pleasant, but she certainly was never so bitter.

Aria was Kevin's beautiful, sultry girlfriend. Though none of us had met her, all the dancers absolutely hated her. A mature adult may have thought our reasons for hating Aria were stupid and immature, but when you're seventeen years old, and the most perfect boy- No, man!- the the entire galaxy was just within your reach and someone else had him, well, that's certainly reason enough.

Before the class became really immature about Aria and Kevin, I left for the changing room, slipping into a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a fitter, V-neck top. Maybe I was trying just a little bit to get Kevin's attention, but at least I wasn't to the point of Hannah and Cadie.

When I came back out to the main studio, Kevin was sitting on the bench near the back wall, a textbook in his hand, and a stack of sticky notes set next to him. I had always wished I could be so studious, but I just couldn't force myself to try.

“Hey Kevin,” I said calmly, trying to give the impression that I was completely and utterly in control of my emotions, but as you know, I wasn't, “think you could help me stretch? Mom wants us out in five.”

He looked up, smiled, and ran his fingers through his thick golden brown hair. “Of course I don't mind Laina, just give me two seconds, won't cha?”

“Alright,” I said with a smile, “I'll wait.”

He quickly finished writing his notes and slipped the yellow sticky tabs into his book. “Kinesiology is brutal, I'm just warning you now, in case you ever take it.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

He smirked. “I thought I would too when my brother told me that years ago. I never learned.”

I wasn't really sure how to respond, and so, I remained quiet.

Kevin seemed to be watching a couple of the girls practicing for a musical theater number on the far end of the studio. “You know, when you start dancing, you become a different person.” He said thoughtfully.

“How so?” I asked in confusion.
“You lose control of your fears, your anxieties, the walls you build up against society, and just let out pure emotion, telling a story you're too scared to tell any other way than dancing... It's almost as if no one knows it's really you. Know what I mean?”

“I do...” I mumbled.

And then, after a few moments of silence, it hit me. “That's it...” I gasped with excitement.

“What do you mean, that's it?” Kevin asked in total confusion.

“Nothing, nothing, I just thought of something, don't mind me!” I said sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck.

Boy, had I ever thought of something.