Remi, lounging dramatically against the barre, smirked. “She’s bluffing. Look at her. She’s a bundle of nerves.”
“I’m not,” I snapped, glaring at her.
Remi arched an eyebrow. “Okay, Yesoh. Whatever you say.”
Before I could defend myself further, the studio door opened with a creak. Madame entered, her posture as sharp and precise as her choreography. She carried her clipboard like it was a royal decree, her movements deliberate as she made her way to the front of the room.
“Gather around,” she said, her tone clipped and commanding.
The whispers stopped instantly. We scrambled into a semicircle around her, the floor creaking under our pointe shoes. My heart was racing now, and I forced myself to stand still, shoulders back, chin up.
Madame scanned the room, her gaze lingering on each of us just long enough to make us squirm. Then she looked down at her clipboard and began.
“The casting decisions forThe Rite of Springhave been finalized,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Rehearsals begin next week.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, my pulse thundering in my ears.
“Lead role: The Chosen One,” Madame said, pausing briefly. Her eyes lifted from the clipboard and locked onto me. “Yesoh Yeo.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The words hung in the air, suspended in a surreal haze.
It wasn’t until Sydney gasped beside me that the reality of what she’d said hit me. My name. The lead role.
I blinked, my vision blurring. “What?” I whispered, barely audible.
Madame raised an eyebrow at my reaction. “Did you not hear me, Miss Yeo? You are The Chosen One.”
My knees felt weak, but I managed to nod, my throat too tight to form words. Beside me, Sydney clutched my arm, her grip firm and trembling at the same time.
“Yesoh!” she whispered fiercely, her voice cracking. “You did it!”
Remi, ever the calm one, leaned casually against the barre and smirked. “Well, look at you, superstar.”
The rest of Madame’s announcements faded into background noise. My heart was still pounding as dancers congratulated me in passing, their smiles warm but tinged with the inevitable jealousy that always lingered in these situations.
When Madame dismissed us, Sydney threw her arms around me before I could even process what was happening.
“I’m so proud of you!” she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder.
I hugged her back, my own arms trembling. “Thank you,” I managed, my voice cracking.
When she pulled back, her eyes were glistening with tears. “You’ve worked so hard for this, Yesoh. No one deserves it more.”
Her words hit me like a wave, and I suddenly felt like crying too. But before I could lose myself in the moment, Remi sauntered over, tossing an arm around my shoulders.
“Okay, enough with the waterworks,” she teased. “We’re celebrating, right? Pastries? Coffee? Champagne?”
“Champagne?” I repeated, laughing through the lump in my throat.
“Or sparkling cider if Madame’s still in the building,” Remi said with a wink.
The bakery down the block was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the biting December wind outside. Sydney insisted on buying the pastries, and Remi took it upon herself to loudly critique every item on display until we told her to hush.
When we finally sat down, the smell of fresh coffee and sugar filled the air. I stared down at my croissant, the reality of the day finally starting to settle in.
“The Chosen One,” Sydney said softly, her voice tinged with awe. “It sounds…perfect.”
“It soundsterrifying,” I admitted, my fingers tearing at the edges of the pastry. “What am I? A wizard? what if I mess it up?”
