Crave (Harlequin Teen)

they claimed they did every other year to make things more fair. I would have to wait for hours before I’d get to perform before the judges.
    The auditions began at 8:00 a.m. The Charmers Head Manager, a junior named Amber, took turns with Captain Kristi in leading the audition groups to and from the gym. Each time one of them reappeared at the hallway entrance, everyone else jumped. One look at the expressions of excitement and worry around me, and I knew all the freshmen must be wondering the same things: Is it my group’s turn this time? How did the others do? Will I be good enough to make the team?
    Except me. I was only worried about two things…not forgetting the routines, and not looking like some sort of gravity-defying alien.
    Finally Head Manager Amber came for my group. I added a quick smear of petroleum jelly over my front teeth as Captain Kristi had recommended in class last week. The hideous, chemical-flavored stuff was supposed to help us smile easier even if our mouths went dry from nerves. Then I followed the head manager and my group down the stairs.
    My legs were shaking so much I stumbled and had to use the metal handrail to keep from falling. Until that point, the chant in my head had been, Please don’t let me forget the routine or look like a freak. After the stumble, the chant changed to, Please don’t let me fall down during my audition. I knew it could happen. One of the other candidates had slipped during her audition and, upon her return upstairs, had disappeared straight into the bathroom. It had taken a small battalion of the girl’s friends to coax the crying dancer to leave an hour later.
    Could have been worse for her, though. She could’ve brought a ceiling tile down on everyone’s heads instead. With an audience.
    My audition group was allowed two minutes to stretch and warm up in the foyer. But I’d been stretching and practicing for hours now. At this point, all I wanted was to get in there and get the audition over with.
    I felt the hairs at the back of my neck prickle, as if someone was watching me. Maybe one of the veterans was peeking out the theater doors? Everyone else in the foyer was visible in front of me and looking elsewhere. I ignored the sensation. No way would I let some curious veteran psyche me out today.
    The gym doors squeaked open, and Captain Kristi poked in her head with a bright smile. “Ready, girls?”
    We all nodded and lined up, hands on our hips like we’d been taught for our entrance walk. My heart pounded even harder than it had three weeks ago at the dance recital.
    We took our positions in the center of the cavernous gym and waited for Captain Kristi to start the music on the sound system. While we waited, I had a chance to study the judges seated several yards away at a folding table. There were five of them…two women, two men and Mrs. Daniels, the Charmers director. I recognized the director from all the times I’d seen her at her desk in the Charmers office outside the dance room this year. None of the judges smiled as they held their pens ready over their papers. Probably too tired by now to smile back. I avoided direct eye contact with them out of habit.
    The music began. We started with the jazz routine, and just like at the recital, the adrenaline rush made it all feel like a dream. I was outside myself, watching my body fly and twist. I was pretty sure I wasn’t doing freakishly well, but it was hard to tell. I’d been practicing modifying all my moves according to the veteran Charmers standards, not the awkward freshmen I’d been grouped with for today.
    The song ended, and we dancers hit our basic standing pose while the judges scratched out notes on our score sheets. In the silence, I could hear the others in my group panting for air. That’s when temptation kicked in.
    Two of the judges were male. I could try to gaze daze them and affect how they scored my performance.
    But it wouldn’t really be my dancing they would be scoring then, would it?
    Then again, hadn’t Captain Kristi told us in pre-drill class to be sure to make eye contact with our audience?
    “Left splits, please,” Captain Kristi ordered.
    My body followed her directions even while my mind continued its quiet debate.
    I couldn’t look them in the eye. It would be wrong. It was wrong to even consider it. My changed gaze was not some tool to use to get ahead of the other dancers. It was a curse, something weird and wrong that had to be controlled and