Chapter 2: Rehearsal – Part 1


 Chapter 2: Rehearsal – Part 1

The alarm clock blares, yanking me out of a restless sleep. I’ve probably gotten about four hours of rest. I’m sure the nerves about what today holds are to blame.

The sun is starting to rise, its light creeping across the wall of my room. Slowly, the fog of sleep begins to clear, and I remember where I am: the Bahamas. I squint at the clock, its glowing numbers reading 6 a.m. I’ve always loved mornings—there’s something about the stillness of them that makes me feel at my best.

I swing my legs out of bed, my feet hitting the cool floor. My suitcases are still open, half unpacked, scattered around the room. I rifle through them, searching for rehearsal clothes, and pull out my best dance gear, stuffing it into my dance bag.

I shuffle out into the hall, stopping by the bathroom on my way downstairs. The mirror reflects the mess of my morning self: hair sticking up every which way, eyes bloodshot and tired. I manage a dry smile and mutter, “Hot.” No one’s there to hear it, so it doesn’t matter.

I make my way down the stairs, letting my muscles stretch as my legs find their strength. Still in my pajamas, I grab the remote and flick through the channels. Katie Couric’s face fills the screen, familiar and comforting. I switch it off, feeling like I’m already disconnected from everything familiar.

The kitchen has a counter that divides it from the dining room. The entire place feels like something out of an old "Golden Girls" episode, and for a moment, I almost expect to see Dorothy or Blanche sitting at the table sipping coffee.

I rummage through the cabinets and find a toaster. Two slices of bread go in, and I wander back into the living room. I draw back the curtains covering the sliding glass door, step outside into the fenced-in backyard, and take a deep breath. The air is warm, and the sunlight does little to cool it. A few geckos look back at me with wide eyes, their throats puffing out as they take in the scene.

The surroundings feel foreign, like I’ve landed on another planet. The warm air and the distant crash of waves remind me where I am—though it still feels surreal.

I light a quick cigarette, my thoughts racing. It’s time to get down to business. I grab the doorframe and begin my ballet barre, something I know I’ll have to stick with throughout my time here. My mind drifts as I work through various pliés. What will today bring? I wonder. I’ll need to stay alert, pay attention to everything around me.

The smell of burning toast snaps me back to the moment, pulling me out of my head. Time to face the day.

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