Page 63 of Skating the Blue Line
My guess is tomorrow's rehearsal is going to be ten times longer than today’s was.
The theater starts to clear out with only a few dancers left on the stage, me and Betty included.
Everyone is taking off their shoes, all the while I just sit there trying to force my body to move even an inch.
I haven’t been this tired after a rehearsal in a long time. It feels like little ants are crawling all up my arms and legs. On top of that, I feel like I might puke if I try to stand up.
So much for me thinking that my morning sickness was gone.
Wishful thinking.
I’m finally able to move my body enough to reach over and start to untie my pointe shoes. But even doing something so minimal feels like a lot of work.
My body probably needs sugar. I’ll make sure to pack a candy bar in my bag for all future rehearsals.
Once my shoe’s are officially off my feet, I try to push myself off the floor and stand up, but the second that I do, I start seeing black little spots.
Okay, maybe I should have taken a longer break.
This is just my body telling me that I need to take things a lot easier and not push myself so hard.
Tomorrow, I will talk to the choreographer and ask for more breaks that are a bit longer.
Today, I just went a little too hard too fast.
I try to stand up again, and this time I’m able to stand to my full height, the second I do, my head starts to spin.
For what feels like forever, the whole room starts to spin and it feels like I’m on a ride at Six Flags or something.
Water. I just need water and maybe some sugar and I will be fine.
“Chlo, are you okay?” I hear Betty ask and for some reason she sounds like she’s across the room.
Wasn't she sitting next to me? When did she move?
I don’t ask, I just give her a nod.
At least I think I give her a nod, because all the black spots take over my vision and I feel so dizzy that the next thing I hear is something hitting the stage and someone yelling to call an ambulance.
Why are they calling an ambulance?
16
LIAM
I don’t knowwhat is more tiring.
Playing three away games back to back and not sleeping in your own bed for a whole damn week. Or listen to Blake and Christian argue about who might be the fastest.
I’m putting all my money on the second one because I would rather get on fifty flights and play a hundred games instead of hearing these two assholes argue.
Whoever suggested that these two race across the ice is getting my stick up the ass.
Practice ended about ten minutes ago and the only people left on the ice are the two idiots, me, Logan, and our coach.
While the two princesses argue, me and the other two men watch them as if they were a car about to burst into flames.
“I’m surprised that Rodriguez hasn’t thrown a punch in Jacobi’s direction.” Logan musses, speaking for the first time since practice ended.
