Crave (Harlequin Teen)

town’s approval.
    If I made the team, I would get to be a part of all that, and I’d be doing something I loved while I was at it.
    But first, I had another approval to earn…Dad’s. If being a great dancer didn’t do it, I didn’t know what would.
    So when he called on Wednesday to check up on me, I took the biggest risk of my life so far.
    Suddenly nervous, I played with the laces on my sneakers and tried to be patient as we went through our usual list of questions about school. A long pause filled the conversation after a while, and I spotted my opening.
    “Um, Dad? You know how I’ve been taking dance lessons this year?”
    “Yes?” His voice had turned cautious, like he was bracing for bad news.
    Even more nervous now, I hesitated, forced my tight chest to expand and take a deep breath, then pushed the words out fast. “Well, the studio is having its annual dance recital this weekend and I’d really love it if you could come.” Please say yes, please, I chanted in my head, holding my breath in the dead silence that followed.
    Why didn’t he say something?
    “Dad?” I whispered, my voice tiny. Oh, crap. He was going to say no, that he couldn’t make it, just like when I played volleyball, and basketball, and ran at the junior-high track meets….
    More silence.
    Finally he spoke. “I suppose it is time that I come see how you have progressed. Give me the details and I will be there.”
    Yes! Grinning, I told him the recital’s date, time and location, then gave him quick directions to the local junior college’s theater where the show would be held.
    “Hey, you might even be surprised by how good I’ve gotten,” I joked, excitement making me relax and be myself more than I usually was around him.
    Silence.
    Okaaay. Did he doubt my judgment about my own dancing? Or was he simply not looking forward to sitting through a recital in general?
    I’d just have to make sure my performance impressed him enough to make attending worth the effort.
     
    Two days later, I joined my ballet class in the dark wings of Lon Morris College’s theater. Finally, the night I had been working so hard for all year long was here. Now was my chance to prove that having me wasn’t the biggest mistake my parents had ever made.
    The three-year-olds were wrapping up their cute version of the Sugar Plum Fairy dance from The Nutcracker. A sudden memory of Tristan whistling the tune made me smile and my eyes burn a bit. I blinked away the unexpected sensation. Better to think about something else. Like the people who were in the audience waiting for me to dance.
    My friends couldn’t come to the show. They had volleyball tryouts tomorrow morning and needed to practice this evening. Plus, their parents wanted them to go to bed early so they would be rested for their early start. Though I was sort of irritated, I also tried to understand their point of view. Volleyball was everything to them, just like dancing was for me now. So I’d faked yet another smile for their sakes and wished them good-luck.
    But there were three people somewhere in those dark rows of seats who had been able to come and cheer for me. I just hoped I didn’t screw up and disappoint them yet again.
    The spotlights dimmed, and polite clapping sounded from the audience while mothers volunteering as stage crew herded the giggling girls offstage and into the wings.
    This was it.
    Determined yet also breathless with wound-up nerves, I walked with my classmates onto the dark stage as the audience grew quiet again. My heart pounded against my ribs. I found my opening position and posed. I could hear the audience a few yards away, shifting in their creaky seats, the occasional cough or murmur.
    The recorded piano notes began, so much louder than at the studio. I would have jumped in surprise, but last night’s dress rehearsal had braced me for the difference in volume.
    The spotlights brightened in tiny increments, bathing me and my classmates in soft blue light as we began to dance in fluid movements. Though I knew I was dancing, a rush of adrenaline made the moment surreal. It seemed just a dream, and I was separate from it all, feeling myself turn and leap as the music built faster and faster toward that peak note.
    Then the music slowed toward its quiet ending. I reached for the light above, everything inside me held captive by the music and the moment. And then I blinked, and it was over. I was in my final pose, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, as