"Come on, babe, why don't we paint the town?"
Step, touch.
"And all that jazz."
Turn.
"I'm gonna rouge my knees and roll my stockings down."
Hip, shoulder.
"And all that jazz."
"Mmm, saucy, some ankle!"
"Derek!"
"Sorry, Ms. Rollis."
It was precisely 8:42 AM, Wednesday, September 7th. First period dance for Liz, a perfect way to start off anyone's morning.
Exercise.
After a few days, it began to dawn on Liz that the freshman class had been separated into two groups based on performance level. Maria, who had been dancing since the age of four, was put into Tuesday-Thursday dance with Nate. Liz was put into M-W-F dance with Cheyenne, along with all the other average-skilled students. She had as much poise as a jackhammer, and coordination had always been hard for her. However, Liz was somewhat grateful for being placed with kids that needed as much help as her.
Liz was standing in the back of the danceroom, facing towards the mirror. Every once and awhile, she would catch a glimpse of herself, and cringe. The leotard hugged every roll, every lump. She still had leftover baby fat, most notably in her face, making her look like a giant child. Her wild curls had been particularly disobedient that morning, so she had only managed to put it in a half ponytail, while the rest got in her face while she was dancing.
"Slick your hair and wear your buckled shoes."
Cheyenne was up front, demonstrating new choreography.
"And all that jazz."
Her glossy black hair reflected the lights on the ceiling.
"I hear that Father Dip is gonna blow the blues."
She cocked her hip and rolled a shoulder.
"And all that jazz."
A wink and a smile.
Meanwhile, students in the back were struggling to keep up with the steps. Lizzie could remember them just fine, but she kept screwing up, tripping over her own feet and bumping into her partner, a boy named Trent. He was tall, pale, and lanky, sporting black curls and murky green eyes. It seemed he hadn't grown used to his size quite yet, because he was stumbling as much as Liz was. To top this off, neither Liz nor Trent could grasp dancing with each other, stepping on one another's feet, and getting in each other's way.
Clammy, sweaty palms.
Awkward glances and utterances of "I'm sorry."
There was something eerily familiar about Trent that Liz couldn't seem to put her finger on. Not him, specifically, but the way he acted. Being in the back of the dance studio, they were close to the speakers, and the music was blasting right next to them. This, along with the white noise chattering of their classmates, annoyed them both, but Trent especially. As the classroom got louder and louder, he fidgeted more and more. Trent got antsy, tossing Liz around with vigor, almost losing his grip on her once. Finally, everything came to a boiling point near the end of the period. The class was running through "All That Jazz" for the sixth time, and everyone was eager to leave. Trent and Liz once again joined their damp hands to run through their routine, looking at their feet more often than at each other. When Liz would turn to him to remind him of a step, his eyes were firmly fixed towards the front, at Cheyenne, who was demonstrating the moves rather passionately.
Liz wouldn't disagree with the fact that Cheyenne was attractive…
Okay, gorgeous was a better word.
But she was getting irritated with Trent's inattentiveness. She knew how it felt to be distracted every waking moment of her life, but dealing with it from the outside was a challenge that Liz was not ready for. She tapped Trent's shoulder, pulling his attention away from Cheyenne's hips.
"You've gotta focus, Trent!"
Wow. She was turning into every teacher that she hated growing up.
Trent turned back to Liz, and she could see that no level of scolding was going to pull his focus away from teen hormones. Rather than waste more breath on nagging him, she guided him through the steps as best she could without messing up her footwork. Everything was going just as it should have been, when a voice hissed behind Liz.
"Oh my god, look at his pants!"
Confused, Liz ignored this. Trent, however, frose almost instantly, turned scarlet, and bolted out of the room, leaving Liz partnerless and bewildered. The speakers continued to blast as Ms. Rollis noticed Trent's frantic escape, causing her to snatch the remote for the speakers off the stool near the front of the room, and shut off the music.
"Alright, alright, everyone quiet!" Ms. Rollis waved her hands above her head, attempting to calm the class, most of which was still trying to figure out what had just happened, Lizzie included. Ms. Rollis continued, looking lost. "We're finished for today, everyone go change before the bell rings."
Cheyenne, out of breath and confused, made her way to the girls locker room with most everybody else, seeing as how there were far more girls than boys in the freshman class. Liz followed, every now and then sneaking a glance at Cheyenne, and how her hair swayed when she walked or moved her head. It was hypnotic. However, the task of spotting Cheyenne proved to be far more challenging inside the girl's locker room, because their so-called 'Changing Space' was no bigger than a small hallway. The girls had to cram inside like sardines to change, while the boys had a bit more room. Still, every now and then, Liz would look over and see waves of silky black hair, and feel a flutter in her stomach, like choppy ocean waves.
It felt odd.
News of what would later be called "Tentgate" spread rapidly, reaching most of the freshman class by lunch. This wasn't really remarkable, as their class was made up of almost fifty students. Still, seeing as how Trent was nowhere to be seen during fifth period lunch, it was clear that he was still embarrassed. Liz felt for him, and knew exactly how bad it felt to be judged for something small and stupid. Hell, that's what had gotten her kicked out of her old high school in the first place.
Despite there being only about a hundred students in the lunchroom, the small space made them all feel rather cramped, which was something that all the rooms in the building had in common, even the black box auditorium. Fifth-period lunch was meant for the freshman and the juniors, and the differences were apparent almost immediately. The freshman chatted with each other, sitting in larger groups, while the juniors were more secluded, with the biggest groups holding five people. They were also glaring daggers at the newer students, which made said students feel unwelcome. Ignoring the budding class warfare, one wouldn't be able to hear themselves think amidst the noise. Occasionally, other students would wander into the lunchroom, and mingle with the juniors, while the freshmen were ignored. In fact, all of the upperclassmen seemed to view the new students as roaches to be stepped on.
Sitting at the table directly next to the main staircase, which was dubbed 'their spot' within a week, were Lizzie, Nate, Maria, and Cheyenne. They had to shout to be heard over the chatter of the cafeteria, leaning over the white tabletops and repeating themselves every few seconds. After a half hour of "What?!" over and over again, they heard microphone feedback behind them. They turned to see a girl, obviously an upperclassman, holding the microphone and sporting a charismatic smile. She had crimson, springy curls gathered into a bun high on her head, and was dressed sharper than a knife. She spoke,
"As most of you know, my name is Allison Montero. I am currently a senior here at Shaw, and have the honor of announcing the start of student elections! If you wish to run for President, Secretary, or Treasurer of your grade, then put your name up on the call board upstairs, and you're officially in the race!"
She paused, possibly for dramatic effect.
"I'll also take this moment to announce that I am running for Senior President, unsurprisingly, as I've ran and won three years in a row, now. Well, you all know how reliable I've been in leading what is now the senior class, so vote Montero!"
Another pause. Allison glanced at Mrs. Napta, who was gesturing for her to continue. Again, the senior spoke.
"Another announcement! Auditions for Chicago will be after school today, tomorrow, and Thursday. Callbacks will be announced on Friday, and will be held on Saturday at noon. Failure to attend if called back will result in your name being removed from the list. I hope to see you all there!"
And with this, Allison finally surrendered the microphone to Mrs. Napta, who added on,
"One final thing! The sign-up sheet for stage crew is still on the call board upstairs. It's being taken down at the end of the day. If you still wish to participate, then I suggest you decide quickly! Enjoy the rest of your lunch."
And with that, the lunchroom returned to its controlled chaos. All of them had finished eating in the first fifteen minutes of the period, so they tried to pass the time by making small talk.
Loud small talk.
Seeing as how yelling at the top of their lungs wasn't getting them anywhere, Maria, enlightened, pointed towards the staircase and hopped out of her seat, lugging her heavy book bag behind her. Liz, Cheyenne, and Nate followed, clamored to gather their stuff to keep up with her. Once they had all gathered on the second floor, the cafeteria could still be heard, although it was much quieter. They all let out a collective sigh of relief, dropping their things on the piano, gathering next to it. Maria and Cheyenne sat on the bench, while Liz and Nate made themselves cozy on the floor beside them.
"So," said Maria, always one to break silence. "Anyone interested in running for office? Or auditioning for Chicago?"
Nate snorted, tapping away at his phone. "We're freshman, like we're gonna be considered for the school shows."
Lizzie was brought back down to Earth with this, as she had the tendency to daydream. She took a moment to collect herself before adding, "Wait, what? It shouldn't matter if we're freshman or not. They should only consider the audition."
"And the grades and behavior." Cheyenne chimed in.
"Yes, and that, of course." Lizzie concluded.
"Well, the seniors do have seniority, if that wasn't too obvious already. They've been here for three full years, now, and to them, we're just trying to steal their mojo without having to put in the time or effort." said Cheyenne, absent-mindedly playing with her hair.
"Tough." Maria stood up, and walked over to the call board. It was already covered in sheets of paper, advertising auditions for the Spanish Heritage Assembly, as well as Chicago. She waved for the rest of the group to join her, and soon, the four of them were facing the many sign-up sheets.
"Okay, why are we here?" asked Nate, clearly puzzled.
Maria gestured to the two sign-up sheets for Spanish Heritage and Chicago. "Do you see any names that you recognize?"
"We've only been here a week…" Cheyenne muttered.
"None of these names belong to freshman?" Liz asked.
"Bingo!" Maria exclaimed. "If the seniors think they're so much better than everyone, then they should prove it!"
"Umm, hi there!"
The four turned, spooked, to once again see the smartly-dressed Allison Montero, carrying a mile-high stack of papers, emblazoned with her last name in bold letters. She looked equally confused and indignant.
"Wow, what bug crawled up your asses?" She set the papers atop the piano, next to the four book bags. "You guys are upset about what, exactly?"
The shift in tone in most everyone was instant. Lizzie and Cheyenne backed up, looking at the ground, while Nate bit his lip and clasped his hands together, seemingly about to apologize. However, Maria was having none of it.
"I'm sorry if what I said offended you, but why should the seniors get picked for everything just because they're seniors? You should have to put in as much effort as everyone else to get noticed around here!"
Allison now just looked confused. "Then," she gestured to her stack of papers, "what the fuck are all of these?" She looked from one guilty face to another. "You think I was planning on putting these campaign posters all over the school for shits and giggles?"
Nate stammered, "No, we were just-"
"I'm not finished." Allison shot Nate a death glare. He cowered. "I don't get everything handed to me because I'm a senior. I get everything handed to me because I'm the best performer this piece-of-shit school has." She once again pointed out her posters. "And the best leader. Valedictorian. Finalist in every competition this school has ever had, since I was a naive little freshman, like you."
Lizzie and Cheyenne remained silent, and Nate joined suit. Maria seemed like she wanted to continue her argument.
"If you have something to say, then fucking say it, don't stand there sniveling."
Maria raised herself up high, despite her fear. "We're not denying that some of the seniors have talent, but all I'm saying is that you, as a class, shouldn't be raised to a higher standard simply because you're older. And I don't know about the rest of the freshman class, but we won't let you talk to us like that."
Allison raised an eyebrow, smirking, and said, "Your friends don't share your opinion…"
Maria gazed behind her to see Liz, Cheyenne, and Nate, now all looking intently at the floor. She huffed, and turned back to face the senior.
"Fine, then. I guess it's just me."
"Let me be frank." Allison crossed her arms. "None of you are going to amount to anything if you keep blaming your inabilities on others. That just means that you can't look at yourself and say, 'Maybe it's me.' Why do you think that I've done so well here? I had plenty of people talk shit about me behind my back, but if they didn't have the balls to say what they had to say to my face, then fuck them." She looked at the three behind Maria. "And fuck you little shits in particular. I know all good and well that you were chatting with Little Miss Mouth, here. But none of you came out and backed her up. Some friends you are."
"Don't talk to them like that!"
Maria was never one to usually raise her voice, so that left Liz rather stunned, stunned enough to raise her head and face Allison. Allison raised her hands defensively, continuing,
"Hey, hey! I know that I might sound like a mean old bitch right now, and maybe I am a mean old bitch. But you three need a wake-up call in walking the walk and not talking the talk. I'm gonna start showing you guys some respect once you earn it."
Nate raised his head, looking confused. "Three? There's four of us."
"I'm not including Miss Mouth here, because she had the guts to call me out on my shit. Guts that you three need to develop if you're gonna be noticed here." Allison turned back to Maria. "Don't mistake that for praise. Think of it more as tolerance. If you can dish it out, make sure that you're able to take it, too. That's what's gotten me so far. Knowing that I'm the best thing that's ever happened to this school. And making sure that no one forgets it."
Allison then began to relax, backing up slightly. "Consider this your orientation. No one's gonna respect you until you prove that you deserve it. Better yet, until you fight for it. So, what are you gonna do to prove that you should be respected?"
"…"
"I'm dying of old age…"
Appearing almost frantic, Maria grabbed the pen hanging up on the call board.
CHICAGO AUDITIONS (THURSDAY)
Maria Pierce-Lopez
HISPANIC HERITAGE AUDITIONS
Maria Pierce-Lopez
Turning back to Allison, as if to say 'Well? That good enough for you?' Allison smiled, and responded.
"See you at the auditions."