I walked over to them. They had been in the audience, and they told me how good I was and how much they liked it. They also mentioned that my costume kept falling down in one of my dances. I asked them how noticeable it was and they told me they were sitting in the audience watching with their mouths open saying, “Is it going to happen?”
I walked slowly down the hallway placing each foot as lightly as I could on the tile to avoid the loud click of the taps as they slapped the floor with every step. I could hear the music start. The song boomed out into the hallway, “You have to understand the way I am, Mein Herr. A tiger is a tiger, not a lamb. Mein Herr.”
Damn it. I’m missing it. I quickened my pace, but my feet began to slide forward throwing me off balance. I held my arms out to steady myself and regaining my balance returned back to my slow pace. I passed two girls in hot pink tank tops and black capri’s with hot pink sashes tied around their hair.
The girl on the left had red puffy cheeks and tiny eyes set far back in her head. The girl on the right was deathly pale with eyebrows so light they disappeared on her face. The girl on the left said “5,6,7,8” and their legs flew up in the air.
The girl on the left, her leg only reached to her pudgy stomach and the girl on the right, her leg came up no further than her knee. I slid to the other side of the hall to avoid injury. Further down, I spotted some guys in fedora hats.
They had on white t-shirts and black suspenders holding up a pair of black slacks. Their laughter filled half of the hall. I rounded the corner coming toward the auditorium, and I slipped past the crowd surrounding the entrance.
My eyes scoured the audience in search of a familiar face while I walked through the dimly lit room and in between the rows of people. People were scattered everywhere. Some in the front, some in the back leaving random open seats. I spotted Paula sitting in the last row with an open seat next to her. I couldn’t make out her face, but I recognized the blue, black, and white swirls on her shirt. It was the same as the one I had left lying in my bag in the green room. I plopped down beside her.
“It just started.” she whispered.
“I know. I had to finish my make-up cause I have to go backstage after this dance.” I said disappointedly
“Are you next?” she asked staring at the stage
“No, but I’m third.”
“Oh.”
“This is disgusting.” she said as she glanced at me “What?” I asked puzzled, looking at her and then back at the stage.
“Look at their costumes,” she said lifting an open palm toward the stage “What about them?” They were slightly bleary from this far away and I didn’t have my glasses on. I squinted hard, but all I could see were their movements across the stage. “Their shorts are too short. You can see their butts.”
“What?” I laughed softly in disbelief. “I can’t tell.”
“I can.” she said annoyed. She shook her head and folded her hands across her chest.
The last dance had ended and instead of going back out into the hallway and walking around it again, I decided to take a short cut and go out through the stage.
As I climbed the five wooden steps up to the hard wood floor of the stage, I glanced over at the girls from the first dance, Mein Herr, who were gathered in the middle of the stage. One of the head choreographers was yelling at them, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.
I recognized one of the girls coming up the stairs behind me, and immediately stopped her. “What’s going on?” I asked nodding towards the Mein Herr girls.
“Some of the girls’ shorts showed too much.” she said and continued on. Looking at the girls outfits I could see nothing visibly wrong with them. They wore white blouses and black spandex shorts. Why is that a big deal? Bathing suits show more, I thought.
A vision of one of my own costumes suddenly popped into my head. It all makes sense now. The day before was blocking. Blocking is a rehearsal without costumes on the stage. The dancers practice the dance and figure out where they are in the formations.
One of my choreographers had told us to be sure to wear black tank tops under our black shirts to keep from exposing our midriffs. Apparently the administration has a problem with midriffs showing. I didn’t realize how serious they were until that moment when I watched the “Mein Herr” dancers being yelled at.
***
The night of the performance, I rushed into the green room behind the stage, I pulled off my t-shirt and slid on the tight-fitting, black, one sleeve shirt. Kicking off my shoes, I tugged my jeans off one leg at a time and slid on the black pants.
Digging through my bag, I grabbed my black cuffs and choker. I picked up my shoes and headed toward the right wing of the stage. I was on an adrenaline rush. Seeing everyone else in my dance standing there waiting to go, I plopped down on the floor and put on my shoes. My hands fumbled with the laces while I tried to hurry. My breathing had slowed, but I still could feel a rush of energy running through my veins. I pulled myself off the floor and anxiously waited with everyone else. A million thoughts raced through my mind. The same thoughts that raced through my mind all of the eight years I’d been dancing…What if I mess up? What if I forget what to do? I began to go through each of the steps in my mind.
I started with the beginning where I lay on the floor and after two eight counts I begin to rise and then fall back down. My breathing began to quicken again as I heard the prior dance on stage ending. I said to myself, “You can do this.”
We stood to the side to let the other dancers by. They dashed through smiling and complimenting each other on their way back to the green room. One by one we quickly shuffled to our spots trying to make as little noise as possible.
The stage was close to being pitch black, but you could still see a little bit of where you were. I tried to find my spot as best I could. Once the lights go on there is no fixing where you are. That’s one of the first things you are told before you go on stage and one of the most important.
It’s among the top rules. Some others would be not touching your hair or costume while on stage, and always smile or portray whatever facial expression you’re supposed to have with that particular dance, and if you mess up, keep going. I laid down in front in the middle of the stage and looked around at the others who were supposed to be in line with me. I wanted to know if I was even with them.
I thought I was, but it was hard to tell. I tried to see the other people around me, most of whom were still moving around trying to find their places. I could hear the patter on their footsteps as they passed by. They looked like silhouettes.
Their black heads moved up, down, from side to side trying to determine where they were. I moved a little to the right and then to left. Finally I gave up and hoped that I had picked the right spot. I took deep breaths trying to relax while the dance ran through my head one more time, but before it reached the end, the music started and the lights shone brightly on the stage.
The counts ran through my head as I lifted my body and fell back. I stood up and as I did, I felt my top slide down slightly. It tickled as it slid on my bare skin. No, I think to myself, it was fine at dress rehearsal. As I turned and walked to another formation I felt the top move again marginally.
My heart started to beat a little faster. Don’t panic. It’s probably nothing. I made up my mind to only look at my top when my back is turned to the audience. As I moved my arms up, down, out to the sides, the top slid further and further moving only a tiny bit at a time.
I couldn’t wait any longer to know whether or not it was all in my head. The top felt like it was all the way down. Still facing the audience, I glanced down quickly trying not to make it noticeable. The top was only centimeters away from exposing my entire breast.
Panic had to be written all over my face. I looked back at the audience. Only the first two rows were visible, but even they had shadows cast over them hiding their faces. With my left hand I quickly pulled up the top as inconspicuously as I could, but taking into consideration that at that moment our left arms were supposed to be at our sides, there is no chance that it could have escaped the audience’s notice.
I continued dancing keeping in mind the rule of never stopping. I glanced down at my top every couple of seconds. The top slid slowly with every move I made. My left hand constantly pulled it up. A burning heat came into my face, and it wasn’t only from the bright lights that shone down on me, but from the embarrassment that I was causing myself.
The anticipation of the end of the dance consumed my mind. The music seemed to drone on and on as I went from one side of the stage to the other. Every time my back was to the audience, which wasn’t often, I glanced down and pulled up my top. I felt like a robot as I moved mindlessly across the stage. My mind was engrossed in thoughts of my top mishap, and I was not concentrating on what I was doing. I was just going through the motions. The dance finally came to an end.
The stage lights went off and I hurried off the stage into the green room. The green room was not green. It’s just a term for the room in which the dancers get ready. It was a medium size room with at least 50 girls in it, probably more. You could see from one end of the room to the other, which showed that it was not that large. Even with that many people in it, you could still see everyone, which makes it difficult to get through the room at times. Music stands and chairs cluttered the room.
Bags, costumes, and make-up, among other things were dropped in every available area. To get through was like tackling an obstacle course. There was a television set up in the front of the room that broadcasted each performance live.
A semicircle engulfed the television. A limited number of people viewed the screen, while the rest were left to entertain themselves as they waited patiently to go on stage. Upon entering the green room, I marched over to some friends who sat crossed legged in front of the television and relayed to them what happened. None of them seemed to know anything about it. It was not surprising since the camera was pretty far away and you could see most of the audience on the screen. After the bows, I had gathered my things together, not even bothering to take off my costume or make-up.
It was eleven at night and it was a Thursday, so I figured not many people would be walking around, except those people who were at or in the performance. As I entered the hallway of my dorm, I saw Megan and Ashley chatting by Megan’s door across from mine.
I walked over to them. They had been in the audience, and they told me how good I was and how much they liked it. They also mentioned that my costume kept falling down in one of my dances. I asked them how noticeable it was and they told me they were sitting in the audience watching with their mouths open saying, “Is it going to happen?”
However, I pulled it up at the last second according to them. The same show will happen again tonight only this time I will put a tank top underneath the shirt, which ought to be the perfect solution.
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