GENESIS
Master Ballet Studio
"Yes, Genesis, yes, that passé was perfect! Now into a fifth position," Miss Reneta called from the front of the room, her hands raised like wings as she demonstrated the pose.
The music played softly in the background—a gentle piano tune that made the whole room feel like a dream. The floor was smooth and cool under my ballet slippers. I breathed in, trying to keep calm like Miss Reneta always told us to do. Ballet wasn't just about movement—it was about grace and control.
I slid my right foot back until my heels touched, toes turned out, my arms curved gently in front of me. Fifth position. My back was straight, chin lifted. I could feel the strength in my legs, the stretch in my spine. I was doing it. I was really doing it.
"Good, Genesis!" She called again, her accent warm and her smile wide. "Very clean lines. You have a dancer's body—light and long. Keep that chest open."
To my left, Stacy wobbled a little, her arms flapping. "Oops," she muttered with a laugh, trying to find her balance again. On my right, Calista frowned, trying to copy Miss Reneta's arm position.
"It's okay," I signed quickly at Stacy, using one hand while keeping the other steady in position.
She gave me a thumbs up, grinning.
"Now, from fifth to plié, ladies," Miss Anya said, stepping aside as the music picked up just a little, the notes flowing like a river.
I bent my knees slowly, keeping my heels on the floor, arms still curved. My muscles felt the pull, but I held the shape. I remembered to keep breathing, like Miss Reneta always said. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
"Genesis, beautiful. Your plié is soft but strong. Like a willow tree."
My heart jumped with joy.
We moved into tendus next—sliding one foot out, pointing the toe, then pulling it back in with care. Then to arabesque, arms stretched out like wings, one leg lifting behind me. I wobbled just a little, but I caught myself.
"Focus on the mirror," Miss Reneta reminded. "Use your eyes, not just your body. Picture the move before you do it."
I did. I saw myself dancing clearly in the mirror, not perfect—but proud. Not the girl I used to be, afraid and alone. But someone braver. Someone who was learning how to move through the world with music in her bones.
Stacy giggled as she twirled too fast and nearly bumped into Calista. Calista gave her a dramatic gasp, then both of them broke into quiet laughter.
Miss Reneta clapped once, still smiling. "It's okay to laugh. It's part of learning. Now let's try that pas de bourrée again. And don't forget—feet first, then back, then side."
The piano started again.
"Ahhhhh," Calista let out a dramatic sigh and plopped down on the floor beside Stacy and me. I glanced at her and shook my head, amused. She was always exhausted after just one hour of class.
"Why are you like this?" Stacy muttered, clearly unimpressed. She nudged Calista with her foot. "We still have two more hours to go."
Calista just groaned in response, too tired to defend herself.
I looked away from them and toward Miss Reneta, who was still teaching Daisy and her pair a new set of ballet moves. Then I picked up my vacuum cup from beside me. It was something Kieran had gotten for me. Just thinking of him made my face go warm.
Ugh. What am I even thinking about?
I shook my head, Don't think about him here.
I took a sip of water. Thankfully, it was warm. The studio was cold—freezing, honestly—and drinking cold water in this room would have been torture.
As I drank, my phone buzzed with a new notification.
I glanced at the screen—and nearly choked.
It was from Kieran.
How is class, My Button? Hope you're not too sore down there.
It was that last part that nearly made me inhale my water.
My entire face burned as last night's memories hit me like a freight train—him slamming into me with reckless abandon, my teeth sinking into the side of his neck, the headboard crashing against the wall so loudly I was sure the whole house heard it. And judging by the blushing, knowing looks I got the next morning... they definitely did.
I glanced sideways to make sure the girls weren't peeking at my phone. Thankfully, they were too busy kicking each other playfully.
I gulped, looked back at the message, then quickly stood up.
There was no way I could reply to that here. Not with everyone around. I'd never be able to look them in the eye again.
I made my way toward the back of the studio, slipping through the door that led to a narrow hallway. At the end was the restroom.
The door closed behind me with a quiet click. I passed the men's room and entered the women's, where a cold breeze greeted my face.
I walked to the sink and stared at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, stray hairs clung to my neck, and my green eyes looked wide and too bright.
Sometimes, I didn't recognize this girl. She was so different from the version of me that used to be.
I glanced down at my phone again, rereading his message. My stomach flipped.
Then I typed:
Class is fine. I'm sore though…
I paused, biting my lip. Then added:
You didn't have to type that last part. Someone could've seen. Then I added an embarrassed emoji.
I hesitated... then hit send.
My heart thudded in my chest.
Almost instantly, the bubbles appeared:
Sorry, Cara mia. I sometimes forget how shy you still are. But I'll behave—promise. Then a winking emoji.
Then another:
Are you really okay though?
I smiled at the screen. His care always caught me off guard, even now.
I'm okay. Just a little tired. The studio's really cold today, I typed.
His reply came in seconds:
I'll send one of the men to get you a sweater ? Or I can get them bring you warm tea again. That cinnamon one you like.
My heart melted a little. He remembered everything.
I started to type:
You don't have to...
But I deleted it.
Instead, I sent:
Tea would be nice. Thank you.
Simple. Sweet. But my face was still burning. I pressed the phone to my chest and let out a quiet breath.
Then the door opened and the sound of girls chatting and laughing spilled into the restroom.
Buzz.
Anything for you, My Peace. I'll be waiting outside when you're done. Text me when class ends.
I was about to respond when the phone was suddenly yanked out of my hands.
"Well, well, if it isn't the mute freak."
Melanie's voice was sharp as a blade. She held my phone high above her head, a cruel smirk twisting her lips.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I stared at her.