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Jan 2019
It is the most dreaded part of the year
I push the cold silver doors of boston ballet and enter the smelly studio
Anxiety hits me and I question why i'm there, is it even worth it?
I reassure myself as I tie the thin strings of my satin ballet shoes that this what I want to do in life
I head up to registration and grab number 21, my lucky number
It's a sign, right?
I enter the room and my cheeks turn as pale as snow
The auditioner is staring me up and down, I know it's because I don't look the part
I return her gaze with a soft smile, hoping it makes up for my body even though I know it won't
I can't change that
I set up at the barre and as soon as the pianist presses the keys I am in my element
I feel an ignition in my body as I start to move and sparks of joy are set in my blue eyes
-
I hit fifth position
She says “you will be emailed your results in 2 weeks” to the perfect group of ballerinas in front of me
That was a fast hour and a half
I gather my things and I hear a soft voice asking about number 21
wait, I'm number 21
I am numb and frozen
I turn and slowly walk up to her trying to hold and sustain grace in my weeping shoulders
She turns to me and tells me there has been an opening in the company and she believes I am the best fit
I'm glad I walked through those cold silver doors of Boston Ballet.
Written by
Zoe van Beever
182
 
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