Before I even know where I'm going, I find myself at Sammy's studio. I stop to take it in. The gold-plaited sign above the door, the dust that has accumulated from all the construction, Zach assembling a barre in the middle of the floor. Is this enough? Is this the only thing that Sammy will be remembered for? Are we really doing him justice with this place? When the kids come here and they see his photo on the wall, what will they think? Oh, he's just the kid someone named a studio after? Nothing else?
For me, this is the least of his accomplishments. For me, Sammy is way more than a few ballet barres and a photo on the wall. He is my best mate. Was my best mate. Was. It's still hard to think of him as being gone because he's never far out of my mind. Apart from Tara, he has been the most present person in my life since coming to the academy. He pulled me out of my head and gave me the confidence to open up to people, to enjoy life.
I was so angry when I came to the academy. Angry at everyone and everything. I missed my mom and didn't know how I was going to survive without her. Not just because she fed and clothed me, and kept a roof over my head. She was my best friend, someone I could talk to about anything. She was always there for me, and no matter how much trouble I got into, she didn't judge me.
Not that I was never punished... well she tried. But the punishment never quite lasted as long as she said. One week turned into one day, which turned into one hour, and before I knew it, we would be laughing about it as though it were a distant memory with me promising to do better, even though we both knew it would probably never happen. God I miss her laugh. She was such a happy person. Despite never having enough money, or not living in the best neighborhood, not having my dad around, she didn't let it get to her. Even after she got sick. Even after she knew she wouldn't get better. She was a live-in-the-moment kind of person. Like Sammy was. She loved dancing, just like he did. And I loved her. That's why I auditioned when she begged me to. To make her happy. To make up for all my mistakes. It was my chance to show her that I wasn't a total screw-up. That I could be like her.
Now, they are both gone. I will never see them again. They are gone and I am still here and suddenly, standing in front of the building built to pay tribute to my friend, I finally realize what I want to do. It is so clear in my mind now that I can't believe it has taken me this long to figure out. It is so obvious. I think I may have sensed it before, but who comes to the Academy to be a teacher? Most only think of it as a back-up plan, not something that they really want to do. Just something to fall back on if they can't get a job dancing, or something to do after their career is over. But for me, it is all I want now.
As I come to this realization, I feel a pang of guilt course through me. Here I am with a contract to the National Ballet Company sitting in my bag, and I am just going to throw it away? What would my mom say? What would Sammy say? And worst of all... Tara? She is in the hospital where a doctor is trying his best to fix her broken back, not knowing if she can ever walk or dance again, and I'm just going to say, "No thanks? Not interested?" How can I face her once she learns the truth? That I have been offered a contract, something she would give anything to have, and I just threw it back as if it means nothing?
Except it did mean something! It means everything! Being offered a contract means more to me than I can say, especially since it is never something I thought I would actually get. It was always talked about in some obscure way, but never as a real option. But now, standing in front of Sammy's studio, I know it isn't my dream. I had wanted it for my mom and to be able to be with Tara, but not for me. Giving kids the chance to dance and dream, to let them find out what they really want in life, is definitely worth my time. It's something I never had, which is probably why it took me this long to realize that what I want to do more than anything else is teach. This is how I would truly honor Sammy's memory. By not letting anyone forget how much he loved dancing, his family, his friends.
With this weight lifted off my chest, I breathe a sigh of relief. I have finally found my purpose, something to make me happy. This is what I want. With a sense of achievement, I take a deep breath in as I walk into the studio, knowing that there is someone inside who needs to hear my news and my decision. Here goes.