Chapter Text
Written in a readable cursive font, were the words “Academy of the Arts,” and underneath, a picture of a school. Three stories, pristine white exterior, and a fountain out front to match. A curved tan path surrounding the fountain all sides, leading up to the front steps.
The fountain was of the academy official logo. A lily, white. The flower itself drooped forward ever so slightly, and the stem strong. The water poured from the center, out in between the four petals.
Absolutely gorgeous.
Printed on the next pages, were about the school itself.
The school, was a prestigious school, for all things considered artistic. But one of the best classes in the entire school were it’s singing and dance programs, more specifically, ballet. They had the best teachers, a few celebrities had gone to the school, and their reputation squeaky clean. Anybody who was somebody went.
The school was extremely difficult to get into, and tuition was expensive; and you weren’t exactly rolling in dough. But a few months ago, they made an alarming announcement. Three teachers from the school acting as judges would be touring schools, and would watch auditions to pick for ten students to join the school.
Since you found out you had practiced non-stop. Your dream was to become a dancer. Ballet was your expertise, though you dabbled in a few other things too. Singing, for example, was a hobby of yours, nothing more.
In almost an instant, the day had arrived. The dream of yours and others so many put to challenge against each other. Hundreds auditioning, and only ten being accepted.
You stared intensely at the pamphlet of the school in your hand, taking in every detail of the cover, creasing where your fingers held tightly.
A circus of people surrounded you. The chatter from them clouded your mind. Their arms brushed against your skin, shoving you forward whenever the endless line moved an inch, stepping on your shoes and squishing your toes.
Least to say, you were more than uncomfortable. Anxiety bubbled inside you, rising in your chest and squeezed lightly.
Taking in a deep, deep breath, you held it for ten seconds; and letting it go whence time came. It was a simple trick you found online, but had only recently started using.
This school had been your dream. You poured blood, sweat, and tears into even qualifying for an audition. This school was your ticket to success, to living the life of a star. You would leave your small town, and go into bigger things. You would no longer be broke, you wouldn’t have to live the hard life anymore.
There wasn’t any way in hell you were letting that go.
The audition line was long, starting from outside the auditorium of the school, twisting and turning leading backstage, and finishing just behind the curtain.
You were at the front of the line, only five people away from it being your turn.
Everyone waited antsily, including yourself. You had to do well, you had to do amazing. Better than everyone else. Deciding to take a quick last minute check in yourself and everyone around you, eyeing the competency, you glanced around, taking in the people, and their appearance. Most everyone wore nice black clothes, others in outfits fitting to their type of creative medium.
Then, you looked to the people in front of you.
The first four were normal. All dressed accordingly and appropriately. But the person in front of you…
While there was nothing wrong with their outfit, you did notice that they were very, very pretty. Their shirt hugged them well, and their black pants curved in the best places. Their hair curly and wavy, full of volume. Their skin smooth and seemingly soft.
You wore simple clothes. A black shirt, black tights, and your pink ballet shoes. The shirt was rather baggy, but you didn’t mind. At least, you didn’t before. Now, staring in almost at awe at your new doppelgänger, you couldn’t help but feel slightly self-conscious.
You were confident in yourself. But now, looking at them, you suddenly felt slightly disappointed in yourself. Perhaps you should’ve put more effort into your appearance than they did..
You snapped out of your mind as you were pushed forward. You stumbled forward, catching yourself quickly and fast enough to not bump into the person ahead of you.
You shook your head, trying to clear your mind. ”Just focus on your dancing, you’ll get into the school with talent.” You took another breath in, and out, replaying your dance routine in your mind. You practically knew it from heart now. “Focus.”
As the minutes passed, the line became shorter, until you were the second person.
Your competitor strode forward, their back arched with confidence and grace.
You watched from the curtain, as they now stood in the middle of the stage. You could see the small smile on their face, as they opened their mouths and sung.
They were beautiful. The music coming from their mouths leaving you breathless. Your eyes widened, and inwardly you gasped. They had a beautiful voice indeed, but it wasn’t the voice that made you gasp, it was that fact they would definitely be one of the ten entering the school.
You knew they would be entering the school. You knew they were talented enough. You knew they were pretty, and the image of your outfit compared to theirs was lack-luster.
Anxiety rose in your chest, you could feel your hands shake slightly as you made tight fists. You had no doubt they would enter the school, meaning the ten-slot had decreased to nine. The lower the acceptance rate, the lower your chance of entering.
Doing a simple ballet routine wasn’t going to work, what were you thinking? You should have known better, to know how to stand out from the crowd. But you had been so engulfed in practicing and memorizing your dance perfectly, you forgot to add pizzazz.
They continued singing. You felt your nails digging into your palms, and as soon as the numbness faded away, and you could sense the minor pain, you opened your palm, staring down at the indents left into your skin.
You shook your hands, hoping to relieve yourself of the slight pain to help yourself focus again.
“Think! You have a minute left until it’s your turn.. do something the judges haven’t seen.. something to make you stand out..”
An image popped into your mind. You felt your cheeks burn, and stomach churn, but you were desperate. Desperate for something to make you stand out from the crowd, something to put the spotlight on you.
Quickly, you reached your shirt, grabbing the extra fabric and rolling it together, shoving it under your shirt to give the illusion of a crop-top.
You then reached to your hair, messing up your hair just slightly in - what you hoped - a flirtatious messy style. Your heart pressed against your chest, beating rapidly as she walked off stage, and it now being your turn.
Doubting yourself, but determined to succeed, you walked towards the middle of the stage.
In front of you, sitting in the third seats to the front where three men.
Two white, one Asian-American. On your left, was one of the white guys. He was tall, broad, and strong. His muscles poked out of his red formal casual shirt. His long beard clean-cut, and his light brown hair puffed slightly, though still slicked back; giving him a serious yet calm demeanor.
The man on the right seemed to give a whole different vibe all-together.
He was also white, slightly paler, contrasting to his black hair; which was puffy and full of volume. You had the sense that if you were to run your fingers through his hair, it would be one of the softest things you’d feel. He was thinner than the other, and probably the shortest, but that in no way made him small. Even sitting down you could tell he was tall. He had muscles too, but not as prominent as the other man.
He slumped in his seat slightly, a small playful smile on his face. As your eyes glanced over them, you could see the slight amusing in his eyes. He for the most part, seemed like a fun-lover, but also tired.
The man in the middle though. Now, he was something to look at.
He was tall, though slightly shorter than the man on the left. His black formal shirt tightened around his thick muscles. His was face handsomely symmetrical. His long black hair, ending at the name of his neck, was brushed back.
He leaned forward, his arms resting in the seat in front of him, hands laced. Your heart paused once you accidentally made eye-contact. And for a split-second, you thought he gave you a smirk.
Sharply taking in a breath, you turned away from them. Your heart pounded against your chest, showing no signs of stopping. Your palms became moist with sweat, and they shook almost violently.
You held your breath, breaking through your nose, and exhaled.
This was your chance. Your way to star-dom. To success. If you were to win, you would go to an ivy-league school, and would live the life you had desired for so many years.
“Don’t fuck it up.”
You raised your arm into the air, and began.
Throughout the dance your heart pounded with every movement, your mind screamed to stay focused while giving you quick quips and improvisation of new movements that would be perceived as slightly sexual.
By the end of the dance your chest heaved up and down. You could feel the sweat rolling down your face after three minutes of dancing and extreme nervousness.
You faced the judges, desperately searching their faces for any sign of amusement, anything.
The man on the left raised a brow, arms crossed. The man on the right seemed almost off-put by the whole ordeal. The middle man, looked you up and down. The edge of his lips tugged upwards.
“Thank you.” His voice deep with a medium bass. It matched his entire vibe. “We’ll be in touch.”
You blinked. In touch? Was that a good thing? Did that mean you made it? With another blink, confused and numb, you walked off stage, mind swirling with questions.
You exited the autotoruim quietly, entering into the semi-loud hallway with the rest of the finished performers.
You had to stay for another two hours, when auditions would be closed and another thirty when they would announce the winners.
Leaning against the wall you thought about the judges, and how rather attractive they all were. You remembered the aura they gave off, and your thoughts about how the man in the middle had smiled, more or less in a flirtatious way.
Your shook your head. No way, he was older than you and there was no away he would do that.
At least, you could hope that he only would.
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