Fex: HEY, GUYS. :D
Blacks : I WANT TO BE A MARSHMALLOW!
Fex: She has been saying this ALL WEEK. xD But really, guys, sorry times a million for the lack of updates. This time I was the one on holiday, and Blacks was the one with mounds of homework.
Blacks: Homework is a bitch. Yes, so I was doing a hole manner of boring things while Fex here was in Florida!
Fex : Yep! Wizarding World of Harry Potter, whaddup? Anyway. Winner, BY FAR of the Most Interesting Review Contest : Bob The Other Zombie.Nervous? Nah. Not me.
Okay, maybe a tiny bit jittery, and maybe a tiny bit of something else that was definitely not nervousness.
At least my roommates shared my sentiments.
I got up to find Nikki wide-eyed on the floor, chin resting on her kneecaps as she absently played with leggings on the carpet next to her. As I climbed down from the top of my bunk, her only greeting was "Oh my God."
"Feeling it already?" I teased her, and she shot me a glare of pure death before hauling herself up and actually making moves to put on the leggings. She selected one of her many hoodies and threw it across her bed.
I found my own sweatpants and slipped them on, though we'd just be removing them soon, anyway. The ITAC had helpfully provided rooms full of costumes and things that we might need, and we were granted access to them this morning.
"Where's Savannah?" I asked, being as it had just occurred to me that she wasn't in sight.
Nikki shrugged.
"I'm right here," a calm voice from somewhere to my right said, and I looked up to see my other blue-haired roommate sitting cross-legged in grey sweats and a faded green t-shirt, ponytail on top of her head. On top of the dresser.
"Um, hi?" I poked her knee, and her green eyes flew open.
"Oh, hey Max," she said, smiling. "I'm meditating. And finger-stretching." Indeed, her fingers were contorted in ways that should not be possible, twisted back over themselves. "Is Nikki awake?"
"Here." Attendance was complete.
Savannah slid her legs off the dresser and jumped down. "So, how was Milan?"
"Oh, shut up," Nikki said, blushing. "Today's not the day."
My interest was instantly perked. "So it's true, that's where you were?"
"We were practicing!" she insisted. I quirked an eyebrow. "Okay, so maybe we talked some and kind of forgot to practice, but, you know..."
We let that one go for the time being. All of us were too...not nervous...to say much else. Our room was rather quiet, for once. Nikki blow-dried her hair and we headed down to breakfast.
Same story there. I filed it away in my head for the future: day of competition and judging at ITAC=complete silence in the dining hall. I grabbed French toast and sat with Nikki, Fang, Toby, and Nisha. Who were all silent. Though Fang gave me a half-smile when I sat down, he immediately went back to eating, staring at the table.
Alright, so all of us were a little nervous. I could see Savannah across the room, sitting with a group of music people, drumming her hands against the table. She was tapping out some sort of piano piece, I could tell.
That was when I noticed that my own feet were marking the dance moves under the table.
We finished breakfast and split the dining hall quickly―the more time to practice. We were to have until noon, then made to eat, then given another hour to digest and finish up practicing. Half an hour for setup backstage (more for the drama and music people than us), then at one-thirty it was showtime.
Cue wide-eyed Max expression. It was so freaking soon.
"Anybody else feel like vomiting their organs out?" Toby joked, but people just cringed. We headed for the costume storage wing.
Then, of course, we realized that we hadn't even talked about costumes. Not for a second.
We held an emergency group conference.
"They have to look right together," said Layne, picking at a French manicured nail. "But they have to be different."
"We should have tutus," said one of her ballerina friends. "At least in the beginning, since, you know, we're doing traditional."
"But what about later? Will they still look...right?" I heard Nisha ask from behind me.
"So we rip them off for the finale," one of the male ballet dancers said, with a slight accent I couldn't place.
"I don't know ... maybe we should just wear our usual dancing gear. Then it will show more a divide in the 'stairs'." I said, nervously biting on one of my nails.
"Can I wear a tutu?"
"Nikki. No, you cannot wear a tutu, you're hip-hop." I rolled my eyes.
"Awh." She looked crestfallen, but soon perked up as she saw some sort of purple baggy piece of clothing hanging on one of the many clothes racks lining the walls of the costume wing. I assumed it was a shirt, and she skipped over to it looked it over, nodding to herself.
"Yeah, I think we should go with Max. No stress." Fang said from a few feet away, his dark eyes flicking over to me briefly. I ignored the tiny shudder that raced down my spine.
I heard everyone murmuring their agreement as they automatically split into three groups and searched for outfits. I could see Savannah at the end of the wing, sifting through a rack of something sparkly. I felt my modern and jazz group cluster loosely around me and select a section of rack each and begin looking.
"Leggings or dark pants, guys. Oh, and we should all wear the same shoes."
"Jazz shoes," Fang said, pointing to a wall which was covered by a sort of bookshelf. Except that it was covered with shoes. Black shoes, perfect for dancing on any type of surface. I had danced in them before, but Converse were easier when we were on the street, since you could ruin the jazz shoes easily. And they were ridiculously expensive.
In the corner of my eyes I saw a navy blue tank top, and I grabbed it and held it against me. It was pretty unisexual, which was good since we wanted to all be dressed the same. A bit of hunting found a bag with about forty of these tops, different sizes, all identical.
"Here," I called. "Will these work?"
My fellow dancers came over to inspect what I had found. It was simple, chill, and easy to move in. It was quickly agreed on, and I tucked the bag under my arm. Perfect, except for...
"You realize that'll look terrible with black pants," Toby pointed out. I reexamined the color and found that he was right.
"Ahaha, guys, look at this," I heard Nisha say. She was holding up a bag of silver leggings, laughing. "They're so weird!"
But I saw that Toby was looking at them in a whole different manner.
"No," Fang said flatly.
"Seconded," I winced.
"You don't understand," Toby started. "There will be lights on us. They look stupid now, but imagine us in the dark. The ballerinas are in the back. The lights come up, and bam, we sparkle."
"I don't do sparkle." I almost lost it at the image of Fang in those pants. No, not in that way, you pervs. In a "good God, just no" way.
"Fine, look dumb, then," Toby grumbled.
But Daisy stepped up. "I like it," she said, and everyone stared at her. "I'm not kidding. I used to be a videographer, at school dance concerts and things. Stuff like this looks phenomenal."
This was the worst idea since the funding of the pen that writes in outer space (the Russians just used a pencil...), and I was going to regret this for absolutely forever, but...
"Okay," I sighed. "Let's just give it a try."
Stares.
"You are not serious," Nisha said, wrinkling her pert nose.
"Yeah...I am..."
"You've all gone bat-shit," proclaimed Fang. I shot him a glare.
"Think this'll fit?" I asked, going over to the bag and picking out one pair of the shiny bottoms. I didn't bother checking the sizes; England had different sizes to America and God only knew I would never work them out.
"Yeah, sure. Looks like you can fit into it." Nisha nodded.
"Great," I mumbled. We would try them on after lunch. "Okay guys, we good?"
Everyone reluctantly nodded.
"Okay," I said, dropped the bag with the shirts next to the mass of silver, then went to get shoes.
Everyone else did the same. Fang looked like he wanted to strangle me. I gave him a coy smile and he rolled his eyes, tossing the costume over his arm.
We all had our costumes then, and suddenly we were at a loss for what to do. A temporary loss. "Okay," I sighed again. "I'm going to the dining room. I need to do something productive or I'll scream." They all nodded in response. I got back to the dining room to see the majority of the other two groups sat in circles, talking.
I started doing leg stretches however, smiling at Savannah when she waved over, smirking at her black sparkly hat. I heard a few screams and deducted that Nikki was heading over here, hopefully with the rest of our group. I straightened up just in time to see them, and we all went to the practice room together.
"You ready?" I asked, walking over to where they all were.
"No," Nikki said.
"Yes. Let's get rehearsing, I want this perfect," Fang said, smirking slightly as I did another warm-up.
"Sir yes sir! That's the attitude." I said. "Right. Warm-ups!"
We did them.
Milan and two other boys rolled out the chorus lifts, and we watched as they set them up. Layne tightened the laces on her pointe shoes and stepped up to her place delicately.
Fang leaned down to me as we took our place in the front. "You owe me for those pants," He murmured, closer to my ear than I probably would like.
"Oi! Lovebirds!" Nikki threw a piece of her costume at Fang's head before dashing up to her own place, vibrating the lifts. "We're starting!"
Fang shot her a look of displeasure. She waved sweetly.
We stepped up to the middle of the first row.
Toby pressed play on his laptop and rushed to his spot on my left.
And then we danced.
Okay. So maybe, possibly I was a bit nervous now. Just a little bit.
Lunchtime brought twenty-five very not-hungry teenagers. Actually kind of sick-to-their-stomach teenagers. We got our first taste of how sadistic the ITAC officials could be, though, because a scary-looking woman that Fang and I dubbed "Food Hawk" forcibly hauled up Layne and Nisha, forcing them to eat something, though they protested they weren't hungry. She didn't stop watching our table until everyone had a plate of at least salad in front of them.
"Why?" Nikki asked, grumbling and taking a tiny bite of pasta.
"They don't want to get sued if one of us goes anorexic or something, I guess," I said, and she made a face.
"Don't have to worry about that," she said, then ate another bite. Fang groaned as the Food Hawk started toward him menacingly and picked up a fork.
"I'm not even hungry," he said sullenly, looking comical as he chewed on a piece of something green that was partially sticking out of his mouth.
I stifled my giggles as he took the rest of it into his mouth. "You think any of us are?" I looked around for effect and noticed that everyone was eating unwillingly, some even looking like they were gonna upchuck any moment.
"If they had chicken nuggets-"
"Nikki."
"Sorry." I shook my head at the blue haired girl in front of me and looked down at my plate of food once more, feeling bile rise in my throat at the thought of what was happening later. I quickly grabbed a fork and stabbed something before putting it on my mouth without looking when the Food Hawk looked at me curiously. I put my fork back down when she wasn't looking and took a sip of my water, looking at the clock.
I almost spat said water all over Fang as I took in the time. We had only a couple of minutes until the first performance started. Where the hell had all the time gone? I saw Fang notice my eyes bugging in the direction of the clock as he too turned, then making a startled kind of noise as he saw how little time we had left.
"I know." I said to the back of Fang's head, and he turned back to me with wide eyes.
"That time went so quickly," he deadpanned.
"What ti-" Nikki began to speak around a piece of pasta, but was cut off by the ITAC official who had suddenly appeared in the middle of the dining room.
"Can I have everyone's attention please?" His loud, booming voice cut over all the nervous conversation going on and silence fell immediately. "Thank you. The dancer's performance and judging will start in ten minutes, could the dancers please follow me to the stage? The rest of you, please report to the auditorium." With that he left the dining room straight away, leaving us dancers scrambling to catch him up. We followed him all the way to the dressing rooms, where he told us, and I quote. "Five minutes to change, five minutes to set up. Get onstage or it's over."
No pressure.
We didn't have time for the girls to get changed somewhere away from the guys; we all made do and didn't look as we scrambled to change into our respective outfits. At least, I didn't look. Then I blushed inwardly at the thought of Fang and what—oh, screw that! I couldn't be thinking about anything like that at a time like this! I threw my clothes behind me onto the growing pile, not caring that it would take me half a lifetime to find them in this mess.
"Okay, come on!" I shouted, already running out of the door. I could see Nikki stumbling out after everyone else, Milan helping her to pull some sort of top over her head as she ran. I would have laughed if I didn't have ten seconds to get on stage. Behind us, Fang and Toby ran the chorus lifts down the hall, Toby shouting "INCOMING!" at the top of his voice. They were transferred through the heavy black doors of the stage and then out onto the stage itself, where all of us hurried to set them up. We succeeded. Barely.
I took my place, front and center, hearing everyone else pour in after me. I had about two seconds to catch my breath before the half-lights came up and I saw a panel of about seven people sat at a black table, looked at us critically with pieces of paper and pencils before them.
We didn't sparkle yet. That's the whole point of the half-lights. So that nothing onstage is really revealed until it needs to be. We probably just looked odd.
Fang nudged my shoulder. My blood went a little wonky.
Nerves. Obviously.
"Hello, and welcome to your first performance here at the International Talent Agency Competition," the woman sat in the middle said, ice blue eyes sweeping over each of us critically. "For a variety of reasons, each performance is recorded, and at the beginning of each you must face forwards and clearly tell your name. Once you have all done this, you will have approximately thirty seconds to prepare before you begin performing." The woman sat in the middle said, ice blue eyes sweeping over each of us critically. "Begin."
I heard the click of a camera and decided to start it rolling, stepping forward briefly to speak loudly and clearly, trying to ensure my nervousness didn't leak out into my voice.
"Maximum Ride."
I heard titters and whispers from some of the music and drama competitors in the audience. I ignored them. My name, as you may have noticed, is a subject of amusement among many.
Fang lifted his chin next to me, and his hair fell back. "Fang Dawson," he said, his voice echoing in the silent room.
The whole modern and jazz row told their names first, followed shortly by the hip hop, and then the ballet dancers.
"Thank you," the icy-eyed woman said, and the curtain closed, the lights fading.
Milan and Layne had gone to give the tech cues, and I hoped to God they hadn't messed anything up. Ohmygod. What if they had put in the wrong music? What if we were going to end up dancing to Justin Bieber? What if we messed up? What if we were so bad the judges died? What if—
"Max, you're hyperventilating slightly," muttered Fang, putting a hand tentatively on my back in the dark. "Chill out. Good luck." Then he took his hand away.
We were ready.
Two minutes elapsed maddeningly slowly. Nikki whispered "Ten seconds," and I could hear the ballerinas staying still while everyone else getting in the starting poses. They would use the first eight counts to lift their leg into the turn, and then the next three to turn. The chorus lifts creaked just the tiniest bit. My skin was going to crawl off my body if the music didn't start soon.
Then, hey look, it did.
The curtains opened, and everything was velvety blackness, the house lights down. I could see the green blink of a camera in the back, but I was sure to stay still.
The first piano notes played, and I could see in my mind's eye; Layne putting her leg up gracefully, straight into one of the male dancer's hands, a boy named Michael, head tilting back. Three more eight counts where they would be softly turning. The lights were only on them at this point, and dimly. You wouldn't be able to see us.
Except, of course, when the two guitar notes sounded, and bright lights flashed first on stage right, then stage left, illuminating us, still frozen, in all our shining glory. And I mean that literally, since, you know, the pants. Then back to lighting the ballerinas. Another eight-count of spinning, and two more guitar notes. This time it went from stage left to stage right. The bottom two rows stayed still.
A tiny fast part, which the ballerinas would use to put their legs down agonizingly slowly. Then the lights came up on us, as the beat changed. And we sparkled. The light from the spotlights was blinding my eyes, and I couldn't see the audience anymore, which frankly just took the nerves out of everything.
We started moving all together, slowly, like we were in peanut butter. Tipping and rocking slightly, all the moves big and passionate, but without speed. I hit every one of the moves for the four eight counts we had.
When the electric guitar faded, so did the lights. The crazy part was next, and I breathed in the dark for the split second I had.
The explosion of lights and sound came at the same time, and well, I don't really remember too much after that. I remember missing a turn that I was supposed to do, but I think I covered it all right. I remember Daisy totally losing it at one point, not managing to jump back in for several seconds. I remember Toby giving me a tiny grin as we spun together for one of the partnering routines.
Other than that, like I said. Not much.
Oh, I remember that Fang and I landed my lift flawlessly. And it felt damn good, let me tell you, to get that right, especially since my backflip was a little too overbalanced for my tastes.
And I definitely recall the applause that came from the music and drama students and the judges as the lights faded out and Fang set me gently down next to him. I couldn't resist—I blame that I was high off adrenaline—and I threw my arms around him. Of course, I then saw over his shoulder that everybody was hugging everyone else, so it didn't feel quite so awkward.
Before I let go of him and was violently hugged by Nikki, I observed vaguely that he smelled good. But I didn't have time to dwell on it before I was being squeezed to within an inch of my life by said British girl, who I noted was for some strange reason crying.
"Why're you crying, you noob?" I half-yelled, looking at her smudged eyeliner.
"I didn't go wrong!" she trilled, jumping and sobbing and smiling all at the same time.
"Trust you to cry for that!" I muttered, and she merely grinned once more before bouncing off to hug Milan; for quite a long time, I noticed. I gave everyone else high-fives or quick hugs and returned to Fangs side as we all migrated to the front of the stage with no prompting, tension rising as we remembered five of us were about to leave.
"Firstly, I would like to say well done to you all. The first performance is always the hardest, and I think you all did exceptionally well." The woman in the middle spoke again, her eyes looking a little less sharp, a little less intimidating now it was almost over. "Please wait for five minutes as the judges confer."
So. Not. Cool. We were forced to just stand there while the psstpsstpsst sounds of the judges whispering to each other washed over us tantalizingly.
"As you all know," the woman spoke up. Immediately, we were all at attention, "there are not enough places in the next round for all of you. Five of you must leave."
A horrible, thick atmosphere descended in the hall. I felt my heartbeat speed up tenfold and my palms become sweaty. Fang must have noticed because he reached down and grabbed my hand. I didn't even think about anything romantic; just reassured that his hands were as clammy as mine.
"I don't wish to draw this out for you in any way, so I shall say it quickly. We have decided." The woman said, and my breathing caught. "The five dancers leaving the competition today are as follows. Daisy Fellowman, Shawna Guilliat, Gillian Smith, Taylor Browska and Bree Tipper.
I heard soft crying erupt instantaneously from those five mentioned, even from Taylor, the only guy mentioned. They somehow ended up in the center of a mass hug of all the dancers, all of us whispering and muttering You guys were amazing, really, honestly, it'll be okay, promise and even I might have shed a little tiny tear. Maybe, possibly.
But mainly I was trying not to jump for joy; I was through!
Happy, Nikki, Fang, and I headed off of the stage to grab some seats in the auditorium to watch the rest of the students perform. Drama would go next, and then music.
But the worst part was over—our performance. Thank God for that, huh?
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY (FOR WEDNESDAY) DEAR FEX,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY FOR WEDNESDAY FEX, I LOVE YOU AND YOU'RE AMAZING MY BEAUTIFUL AND SEXY WIFEY :DDDD
Yes. It is indeed FangIsFexcellent's birthday on Wednesday, but we've uploaded today instead. So, wouldn't you just love to say happy birthday in a review for her? Again, we're so sorry for the delay. We hope you enjoyed this though