Page 5 of Worth the Trouble

The instruments might as well be playing my ribs like harp strings. The moment they start, my limbs follow. To anyone watching, my movements are measured, effortless. But inside, I know the truth. I hear the counting.

One, two, three, four.

Five, six, seven, eight.

It’s just me and the musical heartbeat.

The strings are playing, tugging. Pulling me limb by limb across the stage and reminding me there is still feeling in my bones.

One, two, three, four.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Ticking.

It never really stops, except maybe when I’m sleeping because then I fall into those dreamless sleeps I’ve had as long as I can remember. Like my life, quiet and focused. No interruptions.

My body moves on instinct with little instruction.

One, two, three, four.

Five, six, seven, eight.

I sweep my leg up as my back bends, and I feel the stretch in my already cramping hamstring, but it doesn’t prevent me from doing a full split in midair. The music owns my body, and right now, it’s listening.

I am—

“Lili.”

The music cuts out as my feet hit the stage and reality rushes back.

My feet are throbbing and my whole body aches. We’ve been at this for hours with little progress. Not that anyone notices or cares. They’ll work us until we collapse, splash some water in our direction, and then require more.

My eyes cut to Pauline, who is waving me forward as she talks to one of the stagehands. I look over at Rico, my dance partner, and he just shrugs.

“Thought we had it that time,” Rico says, walking away and pushing his sweat-drenched, long dark hair off his face.

He hops off the stage and reaches for some water, pouring it down his throat like he’s dying of thirst.

“Apparently not,” I mumble, making my way toward Pauline, who is perched between two men.

There are so many scarves, beanies, and ripped jeans. It’s ridiculous.

I’m barely down the steps at the front of the stage when the vultures start to circle. Someone reaches for my hair and another starts dabbing my cheeks with shimmer. There’s an endless line of people prodding, primping, tugging. I barely notice anymore. My body hasn’t been my own for as long as I can remember.

All I feel is the constant pit in my stomach and a sick feeling I’m not sure I’ll ever get rid of.

Pauline waves the vultures off me when I reach her, and they scatter like mice.

“Lili.” She slides her glasses down her nose to give me the full effect of her disappointment. “You’re drifting again.”

She waves a finger in the air, and her eyes follow it as it swivels in circles. “Drifting,” she repeats, slower this time, her finger twirls once more before coming to a dead stop.

“I hit my marks.” I’m sure of it. After all, I was counting. Not off by even half a second. “Every single one.”

“Lili, my love. My darling.” She stands wrapping her bony hands over my shoulders. “You are a butterfly.”

“Thank you?”

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