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The door to the studio opens as Jonah and his mother step through. Feeling slightly nervous now, I shift from one foot to the other. Looking at the two of them, I feel a familiar twinge of jealousy that settles in when I think about all the things I will never get to do with my mom again. I turn quickly to hide the burn of unshed tears stinging my eyes, but reluctantly, I continue my stretches.
“Phoenix, hun, Ms. K told us you were preparing a piece for your final exams before you left,” Jonah’s mom states. “We offer a similar program here with some of the high schools. Do you know which school you’ve been enrolled in?”
“Uh ... yeah ... I was in preparation mode,” I release a shaky laugh, “and I think the Ducanes have mentioned I’ll be attending St. James Academy. Do you think they have a program there that will let me practice here?”
“Yes, actually, I believe they do,” she affirms. “Why don’t you show us what you have and where you are in your curriculum. After we finish here, you and I can head to my office and have a chat and get the paperwork filled out so you can be prepared for Monday.”
Relief washes over me when she mentions that we can get things worked out. I don’t do well in new places, but this studio is remarkably similar to my old one, and it feels like home already. I don’t know what it is about these two in front of me, but something inside tells me that I’m safe with them, and I can trust them. Which gives me a breather from every other thing on my mind—mainly Logan.
I don’t know how I’m going to react when I finally see him again. He wasn’t home last night when we arrived and still wasn’t there this morning when I left. A steady sense of dread has been building since the day I left Sydney, and delaying the inevitable only seems to make it worse.
For the next hour and a half, I go through the different routines I have under my belt before getting changed and meeting Mrs. Masters in her office. Taking the seat directly across from her, I wait for her to gather some papers.
“I need to be honest with you,” she starts, a sense of foreboding settling within me. “Ms. K told me your history and what you’ve been through. I feel like I need to tell you a little about my studio here. When I opened Breakout with my husband, we did it to help those going through a rough time. We created the studio to give children and young adults a place to feel safe and a place they could use for expression.
We take a holistic approach to the whole dance environment here. Due to the background of some of our students, we have therapists and other specialists on hand to help. I want you to feel safe here, and I want you to know that my door is always open should you need to talk about anything.”
She smiles, sliding the papers in front of me. “I know it’s hard having to start over again at a new school, and at the beginning of your senior year too. But I believe you can turn this all into something amazing. All you need to do is fill out these forms and hand them in on Monday. The rest will be done from their end.
You’ll be expected to spend one whole day a week here on top of the afternoons that you have classes. Looking over what Ms. K sent us, I can see that you were also teaching a couple of junior classes at your last school. Give yourself some time to settle in, and when you’re ready, come see me. I’ll see if we can get you into our teaching program as well.”
As I collected the forms I needed, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. Suddenly this move didn’t seem to be so bad anymore. In fact, I was starting to feel like new doors had opened. Looking to the skies, I send up a silent thank you to the one person I know would be looking over me. Love you, Mom.
