Chapter Three

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Muffled voices filled her head. She numbly heard the queue of music, an instrumental of a popular 2000s song by Florence and the Machinations.

She knew this song like the back of her hand, the dance like her muscle memory to breathe. She slid her foot into a tendu, then elevé. She didn't focus on the faces watching her, instead imagining the room as a grand stage, the dim lighting her spotlight.

She spun on one toe, her arm arched over her head and another hooped around her waist. She saw the blur of her reflection in the mirror, but soon that morphed into blackness.

She breathed in as she let loose her leg, spinning again. Turned out feet, winged foot, square hips, eyes up. She shaped her hands, her chest open. She could almost hear her instructor's voice of approval in her head.

Esmerelda continued the dance, following the rhythm with a mixture of her own heartbeat to keep the tempo of the harp. She felt graceful, her limbs more agile, more flexible. Her white skirt swirled around her legs as she trotted across the floor, her feet pointed before she leapt, her legs split in a perfect straight line midair, before landing and sweeping her leg in an arc, moving into a second arabesque.

Her chest felt light, barely needing air as she continued. The beat quickened up with drums, and she did quick, consistent and short jumps across the room, keeping her elbows above her hips with her hands clasped.

She lowered her body, her leg dragging behind her with her knee barely brushing against the smooth floor. She stood back up and pirouetted, now continuing with a mixture of classical ballet and contemporary.

The music paused just as she stood on her toes, slashing the air with her hands. She dabbled backwards and spun, her leg raised and slashing through the air again as if she were kicking a foe.

Control. Elegance. Poise. Esme repeated the words in her head as she danced. The music crescendoed.

The room lights turned on as she finished, her chest heaving as she held her pose. The once black stage she imagined herself in transformed back into the studio room.

Her eyes met the instructors, who gazed back at her with even expressions. Mostly even, she caught Veronica's lips formed in a slight smile, a knowing look in her eye that gave Esme some hope.

"Thank you for your audition Esmerelda. You will be hearing back from us." Irena spoke almost casually, glancing down at her phone and typing something. She saw one of the men lean over and whisper something to Veronica, his green eyes watching Esme sidefully.

Esme nodded, catching her breath. She did it. She gave it her all and it seemed like they liked it.

As she was beginning to walk away to the locker room, she heard a female voice speak up.

"One moment. Esmerelda, was it your instructor who came up with the choreography?"

Esme turned around, clasping her hands and looking straight at Veronica.

"No, I did." She spoke, her voice painfully loud against her ears.

Veronica smirked and looked down at the holo pad, writing something down as she nodded. "Hm. You may go now."

Esme's heart pounded. She didn't know if that was a good "hm" or a bad "hm". She turned back, walking into her locker room.

"Alright ladies, those of you that finished with the auditions shall begin getting ready for tonight's festival! It's still the day of the dead, people, and we have a performance to put on! Chop chop!" One of the instructors clapped her hands loudly.

Esme walked over to her locker, a costume hanging. She touched the dark fabric, the brown and orange reminding her of last nights terrifying bug. She stripped and changed into the body suit, the dark brown contrasting nicely with her dark olive skin tone.

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