Meet Brittany (#30 of 365)

My sneakers squeak against the shiny oak floor. Sweat beads at my hairline. My breaths are quick. I tap out the beats and hit my next cue. My shoulders relax and I dip on bent knees.
My feet fan back and forth as I shuffle to the right. I grin and a giggle spills out as adrenaline runs high. My thoughts are three steps ahead. I need to ace the spin. I missed it the last few run-throughs.
Five, six, nailed it. Knee, kick, jump. Every class I’m less of a newbie and beginning to belong in this dance group.
“Ok great, girls!” our instructor, Tiffany, calls from the wall of mirrors. “We’ll learn the next sequence next class. Let’s end tonight with some freestyle!”
A few girls squeal woo’s, but goosebumps run up my arms. I cup my ponytail and the hair unsticks from my neck. I keep to the back row of the makeshift circle as Chloe emerges into the centre. She hollers like a flamenco dancer, whips her hair and swirls her hips in sexy circles.
Giggles, claps and cheers fill the studio. Two more girls enter the circle, and I creep backwards. When I was in ballet, everything was way strict. I changed forms because I was sick to death of the regimented structure. Maybe I haven’t reprogrammed myself to loosen up. I don’t want to suck. I don’t wanna be laughed at. I don’t want to be a kicked-out-poser.

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