Chapter 1: Seven
You found her when you were seven years old.
Dance lessons wasn't your first choice, but your parents signed you up for it anyways. Of course, the reason you were reluctant was because you knew you would have to attend your abuela's dance studio. You're pretty sure your parents viewed your lessons as free babysitting, but soon after your first session you felt a real connection to the movements.
Dancing became a special place for you. A chance to feel free, as free as a seven-year-old could feel. Even if your abuela was there judging you, critiquing your every move, nothing else mattered when you're gliding across that room.
You're waiting around the studio for your lesson to start when the door next to you suddenly flies open and the previous class begins to make their way out. It was a higher-level class than your beginner one, you could tell as much by the slight age difference and the way they carried themselves. Like they were too good for you.
When most of the students leave the room, your abuela excuses herself to the little ladies' room and tells you to go in to start stretching. As soon you make it through the door, something catches in the corner of your eye and you do a double take. Once your eyes focus, you find blonde hair and blue eyes so vibrant that you stop walking completely and turn to face her fully.
It begins as a gentle pull, this energy that overcomes you. It's not exactly physical, but you can feel it, anchoring you and bringing you in. You don't quite understand why. This feeling, this urge, it's foreign to you, so you resist it. Not trusting.
Instead, you stand there, unmoving yet not even attempting to hide your curious eyes. The blonde, she notices and returns your staring with a polite smile. It's soft and small, and you do your best to mimic it back to her. The anchors deepen, and the pull strengthens. You're confused because she looks about the same age as you, but she was obviously in the class before yours. Before you find your voice to speak, she turns away, grabbing her bag from the floor next to you and walks out of the room.
You're left stunned, and sort of... skeptical? You question your reaction, the way she stopped you in your tracks and drew you in. The whole exchange, it was merely a few seconds, a simple glance, but you felt different now. Somehow, after one glance, you needed more. You couldn't explain it.
But then again, at seven, you can't really explain a lot of things.
Thankfully, your abuela walks in, and you shake it off, both physically and mentally. You chalk it up to your seven-year-old desire to make a new friend. You decide then that the next time you see her, you'll definitely, definitely say hi.
The universe, however, had other plans for you. Not only was this 'mystery girl' already gone by the time you showed up to session the next week, you are currently running late once again. Well, your parents are the ones running late, but that includes you by default.
The past two weeks felt especially long. You're pretty sure you're getting karmic payback for what you did to Rick 'The Stick' on the playground last week. You've tried to reason with everyone that it wasn't your fault he broke his arm. If someone was too scared to go down the slide, the honorable thing to do would be to help them get over that fear by pushing them really hard. That way the ride is over with faster. You were only trying to help him.
You also maybe – kind of, sort of – hated his new nickname and wanted to see him cry, just a little. But you'd never tell anyone that.
You tell yourself that today is the day. No matter all your bad karma, you will see 'mystery girl' today. That is, if your parents can manage to get it together in time. At the very earliest, you might make it on time. Though, you continue to grumble to them that you had specifically requested to be early.
As it turns out, when you finally burst through the front doors of the studio, you don't see her. The previous class is long gone, and you feel a pit in your stomach as your eyes look into the dance room and land on the classmates you're forced to spend the next hour and a half with.
Your shoulders slump as you walk in and go straight towards the mirror, throwing your bag down next to the others. It isn't until you look up into the mirror that you finally see a glimpse of her blonde hair. She's sitting by the door and you must've walked right past her. You were probably too busy glaring at your classmates to realize it. Now, you're on opposite sides of the room and most of your view through the mirror is blocked by your classmates filling the spaces between.
You turn around to confirm it really is her and the bodies between begin to part – the universe might have your back after all – creating an opening for your eyes to find her. She's sitting on top of the bench, legs swinging back and forth, talking with who you assume to be one of her friends. She must have felt your eyes because she looks up and finds you staring. Her eyes are so blue. Even from this far away. You take note at the way she softens, and the corners of her lips twitch slightly, just before looking away. She remembers you, and for the second time, you feel the energy surround your body. The pull.
This time, you won't resist it.
You steel yourself and slowly make your way to her. But almost like a learned reflex, her eyes knowingly fluttered back to yours and your body suddenly stops itself, as if you've been caught. You were so prepared, but now, you feel unusually nervous. It's nearly seamless, the way she holds you there with her eyes yet still continues her quiet conversation with her friend. It's also quick – you almost miss it – the way her eyes drop down for a second to take in your outfit.
Almost instantly you're struck with self-doubt, noting the bright, beaming colors of her dress, and the way yours is contrasted with all black. You hastily turn on your heels as soon as the insecurities settle just under your skin.
Your thoughts quickly fester there, feeding off of your imagination. What if she doesn't want to talk to you? What if she hates your outfit? This girl practically radiates brightness and even at age seven, you have a reputation of being the closest thing to a black hole. The insecurities, they bury deeper and reach your stomach, making you feel sick and changing your mind about wanting to be her friend. You aren't worthy enough to talk to someone like her. The chances of someone like her actually wanting to be friends with someone like you are probably close to zero.
You don't stay in this festered state for long because your abuela finally calls out the start of your session and you move to get into place. You try to put your mind at ease with thoughts of warm ups. You need to find your special place, where you're free from your self-destructive thoughts.
You're careful to avoid looking in her direction through the mirror and after warm ups, you feel better, tucked away free and safe in your special place. That was until her slight movement catches your eye and you see her staring in your direction. You glance around briefly but when you look back at her, her eyes are steady, fixated on you. She has no idea that you've caught her because she's not staring at you through the mirror, she's staring at your back. It's hard to read the expression in her eyes. It's as if she's judging you, watching your every move and just... judging.
The insecurities rush back, and they surge through your body, causing you to fault slightly in your positioning. When you get corrected for your mistake and your abuela looks at you with disappointment, you look up to stare daggers at the girl through the mirror.
But now she's gone. The feeling of irritation quickly erased, you spend the rest of the class searching for those eyes.
By the time the next lesson comes around, you're ready. You decide that you're going to march in there and talk to your blonde-haired, blue-eyed mystery girl. Not only are you extremely confused, you're also intrigued, and maybe even a little irritated. Why did she stare at you in that way? Why did you feel that pull towards her? You need answers and explanations because it was nearly impossible to not think about her the entire week. You just don't understand and it's making you almost mad now.
You strut into the studio with your head held high and you push down the voice in the back of your head telling you that this is a bad idea. You don't care anymore that you aren't good enough. You just want, no, need to talk to her. You need your answers.
But again, the universe takes the reigns and changes your course.
Your abuela leaves the dance room, and signals to you that you can go in now. The moment you walk in, you become eerily aware of the fact that you might be a little too early this time. The class is still warming down and your sudden appearance causes a few of them to look your way. A small group of the older girls gather together and very obviously begin whispering to each other. When they glance towards you, they giggle. Not in that cute kind of way but more like in that mean girl kind of way.
And just like that, the room widens and becomes too big for you, the voice in the back of your head crash lands its way to the forefront. You can't breathe, and you need to get out but your legs, they refuse to move.
Then, the weirdest thing happens. Your blue-eyed girl moves from her spot, walks up to the group, and begins talking to them. You focus on your breathing and watch what appears to be an argument unfold. You see your girl frown and when she eventually points at you, you feel the burn of her gesture rip through your body. Your legs, with newfound strength, finally decide to move and you take a stuttered step backwards.
Just as you're about to turn around and make a run for it, one of the older girls step toward your blonde in an all too familiar way and you feel your whole body wakes up. Before you could think to stop yourself, you've already crossed the room.
But you're about two seconds too late.
Your girl, she's already on the floor by the time you have the older girl pushed against the mirror. This is a first for you. You've never reacted so quickly with physicality before but that's only because your words are usually enough to make most kids run away crying. But there you are, pinning a girl against the wall because you felt it. The urge – the pull – it rose rapidly from within you the second you saw someone threatening your blue-eyed girl. Unsure of what you've just done and the eventual consequences, you manage to push your weight off the older girl and she quickly runs out of the room with her friends. It's then that you realize your blonde-haired girl is still on the ground.
You turn around slowly and watch as she examines her elbow. It looks like a small bruise, a little raspberry scrape, but you can see the tears that are threatening to fall. You sigh, and lean against the mirror, waiting for her to look up at you. When her eyes find yours, you can't help but frown at the sight before you. Her bottom lip slightly trembling and jutting out just enough to form a pout.
"Are you okay?" You ask her, your voice soft, and she shakes her head slowly before quickly rubbing her eyes to wipe away a stray tear. She sighs then and leans backwards until her back lies flat against the dance floor. Your face scrunches up in confusion, but after a few seconds, you follow suit, scooting closer and laying down next to her in the same fashion.
"They were teasing you." She mumbles beside you and you turn your head to look at her. She keeps her eyes on the ceiling. "They called you a spoiled brat. That you're not even good at ballet and the only reason you're here is because your family owns this place."
You keep quiet. Not knowing what to make of what she's saying.
"So, I told them to shut up." She finally turns her head to look at you. "I told them you're really good in your level, and you're probably already better than them at some things." She pauses and lifts her arm to look at her elbow again, "And then she shoved me." Her voice cracks and you can tell she's trying not to cry.
You sit up and shake your head, even more confused than you were before. You don't quite understand what happened. Why had she defended you? What was the point? You sit there watching her for another minute or so. She doesn't move from her spot but at least her quiet sniffling stops.
"Do you want to be friends?" You finally find your voice and your girl, she looks at you with soft eyes. "My name's Santana." You tell her, and something flickers in the blue.
"Brittany." She smiles widely at you and giggles, this time in the soft cute kind of way. You duck your head and turn away. You had to. Her smile, the full smile, it makes your checks twitch and the tips of your ears tingle. Combined with her blue eyes and her blonde hair, your girl, with the wide smile and the cute giggle, she makes you blush, and you have to look away.
That was the last time you saw her as a child. You heard from a few others that she'd been moved up a class and now she was in a different time slot. For the next few years, you work hard to get better, to improve, so that you can move up there with her. It isn't until you're around the age of 10 that you find out what happened to your 'mystery girl'.
Brittany no longer takes lessons. At least not at your family's studio. Suddenly, your special place, as free as it was, turned empty.