Ballerina and the Boxer

A ballerina. Intelligent, smooth, dedicated, beautiful. Ballet; an expression of life and death, good and evil, heartbreak and love. Clara Stevens, a ballerina- amateur- but ballerina nonetheless. Her heart and soul pours into the center stage in the best of ways. Her ego is unlike any other. She steals all eyes from the spotlight, she is the spotlight.

Clara gripped the barre just enough to do her counts, practice the basics she'd worked on for the past 13 years of her life. She was a late dancer at six years old. Most of the ballerinas in her class began much younger; three or four. Though it most definitely did not stop her from rising to the top. She took the spot of Clara, the main character in The Nutcracker five years in a row, which suit her name well. After earning multiple lead roles in her young career, Clara was on the path to becoming the best of the best. She wanted Juilliard like a soccer player wanted the World Cup and a writer wanted a number one best seller in the New York Times. But it wasn't an option anymore. She didn't make the cut. She wasn't the eight percent and she blamed it on the six year old girl who should have started at three.

"Toes pointed, arms up! This is basics girls, basics." Clara held in a deep breath, not daring to roll her eyes for the rectangular room was nothing but mirrors. "And one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and switch."

She spun gracefully to her left foot and took ahold of the barre once again. "And one, two, three, four..."

Clara had a habit of zoning out during basics; a required class for all dancers in The New York Cardinal Dance Studio. AKA: a wannabe Juilliard located just a few blocks away. She thought of her time in small productions and her times in larger productions. She thought of the things she did to get the lead. Bleeding toes, aching arms, the release of her food in the third stall of the basement restroom.

Clara ended an hour later with just a small break before her technique class began. Another easy class she had to get through because of its requirement. What she really wanted was auditions. Swan lake; a role every dancer dreamed of having. It was cliche, wanting the part. But it was a beautiful role. A role that required two personalities; two different lives. Clara was young and she knew it. Nineteen year old ballerinas were simply not picked for the part of Odette and Odile- the protagonists of Swan Lake. Every dancer in the company knew how much Clara wanted the part but they also knew she was more likely to be a background swan. Just another ballerina making the set look beautiful for Odette and Odile.

Unlike most dancers, Clara took classes at the local community college just on the outskirts of the city. Her mother gave her no choice if she wanted to dance. The only way she'd pay for her ballet is if she worked towards a degree in something-anything. So she chose business. An easy major yet one that could help her in the future. Opening up her own studio was her second dream aside from the big production of Swan Lake.

In the eery hallway she opened her economics textbook and began skimming over the pages. The midterm exam was tomorrow' on of her only days off. She was far from prepared but she needed an A. So instead of chatting with her friends, she buckled down and continued on her study guide.

"Clara, Clara?" Clara sunk further into the wall, hoping the voice would go away. "Clara?"

"Over here," she shouted back to the one and only MiKayla.

MiKayla was a sweet dancer. She wasn't the best, but still good. Ever since she joined the company she clung to Clara like a leech. Clara didn't particularly like it but she had rarely any friends at the studio. She was too hard on herself to think about those around her.

"Hey! I was looking for you everywhere!" she sat next to Clara and hovered over her halfway finished study guide. "Watcha doing?"

"I have a test tomorrow," she sighed, lighting up her phone to see the time; 8:47 am. Only thirteen minutes until class two of the day.

"Yuck! I forgot you took classes."

"Mhmm," Clara hummed, her pen sticking out of her mouth.

"Your mother is so uptight. Doesn't she know dance is your life?"

"Was, my life. I didn't get into Juilliard therefore I have dances that don't really matter to look forward to."

"Besides Swan Lake, and Giselle, and-"

"I get it MiKayla," Clara huffed and closed her book. "I want those parts, everyone knows that. But let's be honest, no one cares to watch an amateur show. They look at the big league, not the peasants.

"Ouch," MiKayla laughed, pulling back her overwhelming dark curls into a bun. "Pessimistic doesn't look good on you. You're too nice for that."

"So I've heard."

Clara stood, straightening out her tights and shrugging her cardigan from her shoulders. It was time for six hours worth of classes and then auditions she thought as MiKayla shuffled next to her trying to keep up.

Notes