She was a ballerina, wound as tight as the corset in her costumes. He was a hockey player determined to make a friend out of someone who didn't want any. She was willing to entertain the idea. But only because he wiggled his way past her defenses to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When I saw Kelly dart down the hall nervously, I motioned for her to join me in my room as we got ready for the show. I could see the offer meant a lot to her and so long as she didn't steal my hairspray or tights, I didn't mind her being there.
Kelly watched my pre-show routine, which consisted of stretching, eating kettle corn, and redoing my bun until it was perfect. Kelly copied the motions loosely, appreciatively taking a handful of kettle corn when I offered it to her.
We had a few hours to kill before the show began so I offered to do Kelly's makeup. She accepted gratefully and listened to me explain the tricks of the trade.
"Always draw your lower liner a little below your lower lid. And don't do a solid line, do little lines like eyelashes. It keeps your eyes from disappearing under the lights."
"How long did it take you to learn all this stuff?" Kelly asked as I applied her lipstick.
"A few seasons. No one taught me the tips." I shrugged, applying my own lipstick, giving myself the distinctive cupid's bow I lacked. "So is your mom here tonight?" I asked, knowing that the students from the school had to have a guardian present, though it was likely the master of their class that looked after them.
"No. She couldn't make it." There was a bit of sadness in her voice and I looked at her through the mirror. "She has to take care of my grandpa, so she's back in Ohio."
"Let's take a picture for her." I spoke, not wanting the moment to become to somber. That would screw with my rituals too much. "So she won't be missing out."
The offer made Kelly beam and she pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of us in front of our costumes we had yet to change into. When we were a little closer to showtime, Kelly dressed in her white gown and ballet slippers. I took a picture for her of her in her full costume and she sent the few pictures to her mom, leaving her phone in my dressing room as she went out and prepared for her scene.
With Kelly gone, I picked up my own phone to see two unread messages. The first was from Annabel sending me good thoughts and promises she'd come back for the next show, and the second was from Loren.
Rebecca just left for your show. Wish I could be there but there's a game. I'm sure you'll tear the house down.
I had mixed feelings about the message, both happy that Loren had lived up to his word of not hating me, but also a little miffed at the mention of Rebecca. Did she live with him? Is that how he knew she'd just left?
I tried to let any annoyance slide off my back and responded to the message wishing him luck at his own game, finishing my rituals before sliding on a pair of fluffy socks and making my way backstage. I watched the first act from the wings, my stomach tight with worry for Kelly. I hoped she would do well. She was a good kid.
When the curtain came down at the end of Act I, I could hear the audience leaving for intermission, and Kelly squealed and danced about with her classmates before coming over to me. The students watched her with interest, though a few turned up their noses and trotted away. I mused that they should meet Andrea. They'd like her.
