Page 32 of Easy Out

“You mean handout.”

“Will do for your future? This school is connected to colleges all over the country. It’s a ticket out. It’s a way to help your family,” I continue as if Trix didn’t interrupt me. I get it. I told Sydney the same thing. No one wants to feel like charity.

“What’s going to happen to my brother when I’m at this fancy prep school? I can’t leave him behind,” Carlos says. His little brother Manny is only eight. Los takes care of him, considering his parents are drunks and drug addicts.

“You know Carter and I won’t let anything happen to Manny.” My mind is racing with what I can say to convince them to take a chance on themselves. If I were them, I would probably feel the same way.

I was like them at one point in my life. I wouldn’t want help from some pretentious, uptight assholes, either. I wanted to earn everything I got. That’s why I worked so hard in school. I wanted my grades and work ethic to prove I deserved a college education. That I deserved to be here.

“I get it. You don’t want to be handed a free ride. And you wouldn’t be. You will have to work hard to earn these spots. They only give out five scholarships to rising seniors and five to rising juniors. If I get my way, all of you will claim one.”

“It would be fun to steal a spot from one of those rich pricks,” Trix says with a devilish grin.

I don’t want to encourage an “us versus them” mentality, but if that’s what it takes for them to say yes. Then so be it.

“What do we have to do?” Michie asks meekly. She is one of the quieter girls in the group. She stays out of trouble and does what she’s told. Michie reminds me of myself when I was her age.

If you are the perfect kid, they won’t send you away. They won’t even remember you’re there. You can float through the system like a ghost. Some days I feel like I’m still floating through life unseen.

“You’ll have to audition. You perform in front of a panel of judges. They’ll decide who’s the best and earns the scholarship. You can dance in four different categories. I thought you could do a solo, a duet, a group routine, and then a second group routine with just the girls and the guys.”

“I’m not doing no ballet or tap shit,” Vivi sneers.

“Obviously,” I sass right back. Sometimes I think they forget who they are dealing with when they talk to me. I can give it right back to them. I’m only five or six years older than them. I’m the big sister they never wanted, and they’re the family I’ve always craved.

I mess around with my phone looking for a song on my playlist. “Remember that routine we were working on over the summer?” I get a few nods of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, it was dope,” Trix brags. It is pretty dope. That’s a good thing, right?

“But Lo, that was like, all street moves. The Vanderwhores aren’t going to let us in with that.”

“It’s Vanderhalls, Vivi, not whore,” Carlos corrects her.

“Of course, you would defend her,” Vivi snaps back, getting in Carlos’ face.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not blind.” Not sure what that is about, but we don’t have time for it.

“That’s enough. Focus. I know our style isn’t exactly Westfield material. I refuse to let you sell out completely.” That statement changes the aura of the room.

“What do you have in mind?” Rocky asks.

“Well, I thought we could do a little bit of us and a little bit of them. Mix our hip hop with their contemporary and ballet. I want to take our hard edges and weave in smoother transitions. I want to bring something so unique to the table they can’t say no.”

I’m fired up. I can feel the emotions starting to swell inside of me. I expect a few hell yeahs, or let’s do this. At this point, I would take a high five instead of the dead faces I’m looking at.

“Yeah, I don’t know, Lo. I can’t do spins and jumps and shit. Can you even do that stuff?” I level Trix with a look. Can I do that stuff? I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.

“I can do anything.” I straighten my back as I throw the challenge out there. Trix raises an eyebrow and purses his lip. That is a sign of challenge accepted if I ever saw one.

“Watch this,” I say as I pass my phone to Carlos and get into position. “I’m going take the moves we’ve been practicing, slow them down, and add a few new transitions. Cue the music, Los.” I roll my neck and shoulders and give my arms a good shake.

Like always, the music starts up, and it’s game over. I don’t even think. I move. I fly. I glide. I tune out the cheers and curses from my audience. I’m lost in the music.

This is my sanctuary. This is my church. This is my therapy. This is where I’m free to be myself. This is the place where all my emotions come out. My anger, my fear, my sadness, my love. No one can touch me when I’m dancing.

Halfway through, the music stops abruptly. What the hell? I look at Carlos as I try to catch my breath.

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