Page 4 of Scarred

“That was amazing!” I clap, and the other girls immediately attempt their own spins, turning the room into a chaotic storm of giggles and pink tulle.

Maci beams like she’s just performed on a Broadway stage.

Teaching has been one of the best parts of my life. Watching the girls grow, seeing their confidence bloom with every new step—it fills a spot inside my chest that nothing else quite touches.

The music fades as the song ends, and an array of tutus collapse dramatically onto the floor.

“We survived,” I laugh, walking over to switch off the soundtrack.

“Do we get our fairy gift now?” Ellie asks hopefully, her blonde curls escaping from her bun and framing her adorable cherub face.

“Of course. All of you did your best today and worked hard.” I reach for the wooden treasure box covered in bling and flowers that I had painstakingly hot-glued to make it look more whimsical.

A flurry of pink bows and frills runs my way to peer inside the box. A collection of jeweled rings, bracelets, and other fairy-themed trinkets fills it to the rim. They eagerly pick out their treasure, and my heart squeezes at the joy and magic of it all that’s shining in their eyes.

Soon their moms begin filing into the waiting room outside the studio doors, and the girls rush to grab their dance bags and water bottles, chattering excitedly about their new fairy gift.

Maci runs past me but doubles back long enough to wrap her arms around my waist.

“You’re the best teacher ever, Miss Luna,” she whispers.

My chest warms instantly as I kiss the top of her head. “It’s because I have the best students ever.”

She squeezes me tightly once more before she disappears with the rest of the girls out the door, leaving the studio suddenly quiet again.

I glance around the empty room—the barre, the mirrors, the sunlight stretching across the polished floor.

This place has been my world for as long as I can remember.

Dance.

Crystal Isle.

Family.

Everything I love exists right here.

Turning off the lights in the studio, I say goodbye to the last remaining students and their moms before gathering up my yoga mat and purse. Tonight is Thursday, which means I’m meeting the girls for our weekly yoga and wine night.

Securing the lock behind me, I walk next door to my mom’s yoga studio, BellaLuna.

Two years ago, when the space became available, I left my dance teaching job in Bayside to live out my dream of owning my own studio. With the help of my parents, I secured a loan, and with two years of hard work, the business is now completely in my name and doing better than I ever could have imagined.

Moonrise Dance Studio has quickly become a favorite in our small town, and word is spreading fast in the surrounding areas.

Stepping inside the yoga studio, the scent of lavender swirls around me as I walk across the dark wooden floors to where the class is being held. Various mats are already laid out as people of all different ages are sitting cross-legged, preparing for the start of instructions.

Sneaking in quietly, I catch my mom’s eye sitting at the head of the room and smile before finding a seat next to my older sister, Bella. She gives me a quick grin before our attention is drawn to the front of the room as the class begins.

The air suddenly shifts in the room, and all the worry and stress begin to melt away as our bodies surrender to the movement and flow, letting everything slowly disappear for the next hour until the only thing remaining is our breath.

“God, I needed that.” My sister remains on her back, completely relaxed in Shavasana as the rest of the hot yoga class leaves the room to go home.

“You and me both,” Emma sighs, not moving an inch.

“Mom still teaches a damn good class. I’ll give her that,” I softly laugh, staring up at the wood-planked ceiling and feeling the heat radiate down from the hot panels strategically placed throughout the room.

“Her yoga classes are unmatched,” Emma smiles.