The Company Audition

Tick tock, was the repetitive noise that never failed to leave my ears. Invading my brains personal space more and more with every passing second. The clock. The damn clock that could make or break my career, sat confidently on the wall, owing this moment. I should explain. You see, I’m a dancer. When I say I’m a dancer. I live, breath, eat and sleep dance. With every fibre of my being I am a dancer. Today is the day. The moment I have worked for my whole life. The day I either make company or fail miserably. The hoping, the dreaming, the endless nights glued to a studio in my hometown. It all comes down to this. Five minutes left. Tick Tock. 

The noise becomes increasingly more invasive. I sit impatiently. Pulling at my leg warmers and ballet skirt over and over again. Over spraying hairspray to avoid a life altering mistake. One pin, one hair out of place and It’s all over. Butterflies swirled around in my stomach. I sipped my water frantically trying to calm down. Telling myself, you’ll be fine it’s just like any other audition. It wasn’t an ordinary audition. 

This audition had been a beacon of light for me since I could remember. I was always going to make it to being a professional dancer. My stomach sunk as I thought about the dystopian chimes of an endless nine to five. The wasted life. The hamster on the wheel. The slave to the system. The you have to ask for permission to live. NO. Full stop. NO. It was never going to be me. Yes technically ballet is a full time job but we do get three months off a year to rest and pursing your dreams does not feel like work. It’s the soul’s mission to be creative and follow our dreams.

Family. I think about them a lot. Especially now. When I do get this role, I will have to move away. I’m not sure I’m ready for that part. The only pro and there is only one pro of not making company is I can continue to teach in my hometown and possibly try and make my local company. It is no where near as big and it’s not my dream place. It’s not what I’ve worked for all this years. The clock slid across the mirror screen a few more minutes. Three minutes left. I couldn’t tell whether I was nervous or excited. I had brought snacks. I couldn’t face them. Luckily, I had already eaten a good meal. 

I thought about my studio at home. When I say home, I mean the dance studio. The people, the relationships, the competition’s, the trophies, the family. I will miss it. When I mean I will miss it. It’ll feel like a piece of me is missing. Like a piece of my heart has been ripped out. If I do get in I’ll be the happiest and most heartbroken I have ever been. I have been dancing since I was two years old. Sixteen years. That’s a long time. To be honest, I will never truly leave. How can I? I will be back any break I can get or if I can’t, I will always remember everyone I ever met at my dance studio. They will be with me forever. I started tearing up at the thought of leaving. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. I can’t ruin my makeup. The lump in my throat subsided.

I started to think about all my best memories. The year my dance team. The fires, won every competition going. There wasn’t enough room for every trophy we won in the glass cabinet in our studio. All of us had to take one home! I remember my first dance show. I bet you the reader, remember the first dance show you watched. Well, it’s not as glamorous as it looks. I can tell you how we really feel. I trained so hard for that show. I was so excited to show all my friends and family how hard I had worked on the dance. I performed. I had the time of my life loved every second. Here’s a backstage secret for you.

 All the dancers backstage take their show and competitions so seriously. The amount of girls running off stage crying because their hair come undone or they didn’t feel like they danced good enough. This is the truth. Injuries, pressure to perform well. Not by the dance teachers funny enough. Family, friends. Why? We ask as dancers all the time. Why are the people who are supposed to support you so critical of how you perform? They don’t know the dance, the layout, what you practised? So how could they judge? Maybe now you will watch a show and appreciate readers, how hard us dancers work. Still I had an amazing time. 

Tick Tick Tock. The impending clock chimed again. One minute to go, I took a deep breath as if I was stepping out onto the stage to perform a show or compete. All the nerves and excitement faded away. This is it. I’m ready. I knew I wouldn’t feel the same exhilaration. The skydive, the rollercoaster adrenaline. I wouldn’t hear the crowd cheering and clapping. Instead, all I would hear is a pen tapping on the table. As the dragon’s judge my every move. Writing their notes as if I’m a piece of art that needs to obtain a value. My ballet shoes tapping and the material sliding around the oak floor. At the end, I will bow and neatly walk off, head held high. As the shows ends and the masterpiece returns to the mellow echo of, “thank you, we will let you know. Next please.” Only two girls ahead. Now one girl ahead. I can’t wait any longer. Tick Tock. It’s time. Chime! The last chime had sounded. The last second was now the past. Nothing. Absolutely, nothing left to do but dance.