I knelt slightly, my breathing slowing as I centered myself. I could do this. I had been preparing myself so many times over the last several months. I could see Sonic sitting in the stands, cheering just as much as my parents were.
Well, Ma was cheering like Sonic. Mom was more subdued, and I knew why when I saw Grandad sitting behind her, wearing a tee with my face on it. I felt my face heat up a bit as I saw that, and shaking my braid back behind my shoulders I stood up and held up my hands, left foot moving forward and pointing slightly. The music started playing as the crowd fell silent, and I took one last deep breath.
My routine started with a crosswise series of cartwheels, somersaults, and a flying scissors kick that brought me almost back to the starting point of the mat.
With a short hop, I swept forward and turned a single forward aerial, seeing my braid brush against the mat. Upon landing, I immediately bent backwards as I knelt, my hands reaching out and plucking up the ball I was using in this routine. I rolled it up my arms and down my body as I rose, catching it in the crook of my right knee as I rose slowly to stand.
I pivoted, heel rising and hands going out to provide balance. I kept my hands loose and curled, like a ballet dancer would as my pivot slowed. The music swelled and I kicked my right leg out, the ball falling only to be caught by the inseam of my left foot. I gave it a little kick upwards, bending my knees slightly as it left my foot. As the ball gained altitude, I did a low sweeping bow, feeling the ball land on my back and settled between my shoulder blades. Dropping to my knees and rolling my shoulders, I worked the ball around to my collarbone, head and back arched away.
A thrust of my chest sent the ball airborne, giving me time to do a swift rotation of my upper body, catching the ball in the cleft of my collarbone again. I pumped up again, and this time I rocketed to my feet, catching the ball and skipping forward. Rising up on one foot and giving a proper devant retiré before rolling the ball and pulling off another aerial, my foot landing in front of the ball and it rolled up slightly.
I let it settle onto the crook of my bent toes, balancing it carefully. This had been the most difficult part of my routine. I slowly raised my leg, the ball coming level with my chest. I kicked the ball into the air and did a grand battement, leg rising and I rotated on my planted foot. My leg lowered and I brought it up behind me as the ball descended. As it grazed the back of my head, my rear kick brought my foot up to capture it. I held the pose as the music held through a crescendo, then collapsed in a dying swan pose, releasing the ball to roll down my shoulder.
The ball rolled forward as I lay there and came to rest by my hand, seemingly on its own, the edge of my pinkie nearly invisible against the rubber sphere. As the last note of the music faded, the air was still, almost stifling as I panted quietly. I could feel the sweat seeping into my leotard, beading against my forehead. Why was it so quiet? Had I missed a step? Not kept my heels up during kicks or pivots?
Then, clapping slowly reached my ears past the rushing of my pulse. I lifted my head and saw Mom clapping just as enthusiastically as Grandad was, matched almost by Ma and Sonic. I saw more people clapping and I rolled to my feet. Grinning widely, I raised my hands to either side as I gave a deep curtsy before I scooped up my prop and skipped off the mat.
Mom met me at the edge of the competitors area, a little blocked off area for us dancers. Her grin was approaching megawatt status as she beckoned me over.
“That was fantastic, Windy!” she whispered in my ear as I hugged my trainer. “I knew you could do it. You were awesome!”
“Thanks, Mom,” I returned, leaning back from the hug. “But you’re a little biased.”
“Only by twenty percent,” she quipped, prompting me to grin just as widely.
I sat and started patting the sweat from my chest and neck when I felt a long arm wrap itself around my shoulders and pull me into a rough hug.
“Way to make it tough on the rest of us, Wind!” my friend Petunia said. Her rose-pink eyes glimmered with amusement as she released me. She had gone with the ribbon for the exhibition matches and - in my opinion - had it easier than I. It’s difficult to work with something like the ball in a dance routine and keep it original. Petunia had so many things she could to with the ribbon but it was my weakest prop out of the five.
“Well, you know me,” I giggled, winking. “Leave everything you got on the floor, plus a little extra.” I took a long pull on a bottle of water before leaning back slightly. “What’s the competition look like?”
My friend shrugged, pushing her pale blue hair behind her shoulder. “I’d say we’re fairly equal,” she hedged, glancing at the scoreboard as the next competitor was announced, a girl from Crystal Prep, but before I could catch the name, the scoreboard blanked as her music started.
“Shame Rhapsody couldn’t make it,” I murmured. “It doesn’t feel right without her here. Ah miss her cheering for us.”
Petunia nodded. My cousin managed to catch a pretty nasty cold and had to bow out of the competition. Dinky had volunteered to take the slot, but even as talented as she was, it wasn’t the same.
The ride home was anything but quiet. Mom couldn’t stop crowing over the ribbon looped over my neck.
“First place in the age group,” she repeated. “That’s my girl!”
“Dash,” Ma said softly, glancing at her momentarily from the driver’s seat. The look made my more enthusiastic parent chuckle and calm down a little.
“Ya done good out there, kiddo,” Ma said. “Ah’m right proud of you. Even showed good sportsmanship at the awards ceremony.”
I blushed. While my parents were free with their love and support, hearing Ma say that she was proud of me made me feel a little giddy. I had always gotten on better with Mom because of our shared love of competing and sports.
“Guess all those dance classes paid off,” Grandad said from the middle seat of the van. “Got us another generation of excellence.”
“Dad!” Mom exclaimed. “We talked about this!”
“Sorry sweetie,” he said, ruffling his greying rainbow hair. “It’s not every day I get to cheer for my grandkids in something I understand. I’m sure Bushel does well, but I still don’t quite get how rodeos dontheir scoring.”
“Maybe if you came to one you would, Grandad,” I chuckled. I was tucked up against Sonic in the rear of the van, my gym bag down by my feet. “It’s easy when you can see the events as they go by.”
The older man shrugged. “I'll make it to the next one,” he said. “I’d like to see the actual competitions instead of just his practicing.”
“Good,” Ma said. She caught my eyes in the rearview. “Now remember, just cause ya won this one, that don’t mean you can slack off now. Ah expect you to keep your grades up, too. That understood?”
“Yes, Ma,” I replied. I hugged the arm of my boyfriend. “That’s one reason why Ah like this fella, he’s willing to tutor me if Ah fall behind in my math.”
“Surely that isn’t the only reason,” Sonic whispered. I gave him a swift elbow softened by a smile.
“Hey, Ice Cream Shack,” Grandad said suddenly. “Who wants some? My treat.”
I think Mom beat me to the call, but we all agreed.
Ice cream is the best with family.
