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I give her a knowing smile, literally feeling her pain. If she’s trying to complete the same degree as me, her body must be aching from the heavy load of physical classes. Of the seven I’m taking, five of them require constant motion and endurance.
“I think if I continue to repeat it enough times, I might convince myself that ‘I love my major,’” the girl says.
I laugh. “Say it loud enough, and you just might convince me too.” I do love it, truly, but the exhaustion is beyond anything I’ve experienced already. My previous education didn’t prepare me for this level of intensity.
“I’m Whitney,” she adds, holding out her hand.
“Anya,” I introduce myself, gripping her fingers eagerly. Whitney’s the first person who’s bothered to introduce themselves today. I was starting to wonder if I might not be invisible to everyone at this school–aside from Nicolo, who so clearly hates me.
“Are you a transfer student then?” she asks.
I nod, surprised that she would jump to that conclusion so easily. “How did you…?”
“No one gets into Professor Moriari’s class as a freshman, and as a dance major, I know pretty much all the upperclassmen in my degree,” she explains.
She turns her attention to the front door and raises her hand to wave to the bleach-blonde girl who had been talking about her family’s vacation home in France and her trip to Venice. The girl smiles broadly and waves. She and two other girls, both shorter brunettes, trek up the stairs to join my steadily growing row at the back of the class.
“Girls, this is Anya. She’s a transfer student. Anya, this is Paige, Tori, and Tammy. If you couldn’t guess by looking at them, Tori and Tammy are twins,” Whitney explains.
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“Hey, you’re the girl who Professor Moriari actually complimented today, aren’t you?” Paige, the bleach-blonde asks.
I nod shyly, embarrassed that his praise is how they remember me.
“Yeah, how’d you manage that on our first day?” the freckle-faced boy asks as he and his friend turn their attention to me. “Did you suck his cock or something in exchange for a good grade?”
“Logan!” Whitney gasps as I feel my face burst into flames.
“It was a joke!” he says defensively. “Mostly anyway… He just doesn’t go around saying nice things to students. I can’t help it if I’m a little jealous,” Logan adds.
“Well, you don’t have to be a dick about it,” Whitney chirps.
Logan puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was just teasing. I’m sure it’s because you’re an incredible dancer.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, confounded by the exchange.
“So, you’re aiming to become a ballerina?” Paige asks casually, twirling the ends of her high ponytail.
I nod. “Is that what you all are here for?”
“The boys are,” Whitney explains, pointing to Logan and his friend. “As are Paige and I.”
“We’re here for contemporary dance,” the brunette named Tammy explains.
Tori snorts. “Yeah, no way could we possibly compete with you girls when it comes to ballet. We’re not ‘cut out’ for it,” she explains, using air quotes to emphasize her words.
“They’re too short,” Whitney explains in a stage whisper behind the back of her hand.
I can’t help but laugh as the twins glare daggers at Whitney.
“And you all have been in this program since freshman year?” I ask.
They all nod in confirmation.
“It must be nice having a tight-knit group that’s all heading in the same direction,” I observe, feeling a pang of isolation. It shouldn’t bother me by now. I do almost everything on my own if I don’t do it with my daughter or my aunt. I wonder how this group would feel about me if they knew I’m a single mother or anything at all about my past that keeps me from being as fun and fancy-free as a college student ought to be.
“Yeah, we’re basically the cool kids. Stick with us, and you’ll be just fine.” Paige gives me a wink.
