By Mia Suda
The club pop music blared from the speakers during the transition between setting up the next dance team’s routine from the previous one. Elara could feel the mounting tension rising within her bones. Soon. She will be going into the warmup room. Soon. Those sixteen minutes would fly by. Soon. Those blinding lights and the large crowd would greedily consume the energy springing off the cheer floor. The lights glared on the dance team, all ready to go — their outfits shimmering and glittering gold, red and black. A hip-hop routine. They had always admired the rugged sharpness that hip hop dancers could bring to routines. Five minutes. The coaches’ warning rang in her ears. Soon. She would have to leave the comfort of her track pants and jumper and head into the crisp, chill winter to wait. Soon. She started the countdown in her head. Soon. Her parents and friends would witness the glory or epic fail of her performance skills. Soon. She would show the world the buildup of three months’ worth of solid training and practice.
Elara started down the stairs and headed out into the foyer, admiring all the parents with their little children, all here for the first time. She felt a rolling wave of nostalgia. Even from inside the foyer, music blared through speakers — clashing, and melding and fighting. Music from the warmup rooms and the competition room. A chaotic melody of lyrical beauty with the harshness of hip hop and the mish-mash of pop songs in the cheer routines.
‘Hey! Watch where you are going young girl. It is rude to bump into others. Have some respect for adults! Are you kidding me!’ a gruff voice exclaimed.
She lifted her head to face him with pleading eyes and apologised. This man looks exactly like him. I wonder what his name is. No. Surely it could not be. How did he know she did cheer?! He could not. No. He had changed. But it was not. It was not. It was not. It was not.
Slowly, her team trickled out into the foyer to meet her. Soon. It was soon. Soon, soon, time.
Now. She was in the warmup room and practising her back handspring. Now. She was observing her teammates try to hit a skill. Now. She could hear the buzzer sound that she only had four minutes to go until she was on the competition floor. Now. She was waiting in the tunnel, doing the final countdown with her team. Now. It was showtime.
She looked around slowly. Wait. Where was she? The cheer floor and the judges had been replaced by lush green ovals scattered with tents.
No. No. No. No. No. She could not be here. Not now. Not again. Not while she had to be in the air soon.
The memory of him flashed in her mind and lingered, sinking its talons into every limb and coursing through her blood.
Suddenly, a great slap to her face was the only sound that cut through the silent tent. No one stirred from sleep. He pulled back with a wicked grin at the devastatingly fearful face staring up at him, silently pleading and frozen. The smell of her terror coated him like the lovely sweetness that coats one’s mouth after sucking a lollipop. She was pushed onto her side to face him. With a haughty laugh and a sneer, he indulged and relished in her powerlessness.
Elara shook him and that night gently from her mind as she lightly skimmed her hands lower, lower, down her torso and grabbed her calf as low as she could reach. The coach’s critiques burst through the fog, and the upbeat music ebbed and flowed into her mind. Right. Music…coaches. She was pulling her leg up towards her chest. In the air. At cheer. In the present, the here and now. She plastered a graceful smile like a mask as she straightened her spine, ready to transition to the next sequence. And those were her friend’s calloused hands that now fiercely gripped her ankle and thigh, keeping her upright. Not that monster from her past. As if realising where her thoughts had drifted, her teammate gave her ankle a reassuring squeeze as if to say it is me. This is cheer. You are safe. She continued, rising to become the apex of the pyramid that her team now formed, forcing her face into a vision of pure ecstasy. Her blood-red lips forming a sly smile as she stared out across the stage to the crowd and judges on the other side of the room.
Later. She commanded herself. Later, she would deal with the flow on effects of her momentary lapse on top of her adrenaline as she gracefully sashayed across the mats to finish her routine nice and strong, like she had practised for months with her team.
Elara’s grin was forced while she willed herself not to fall apart in front of the crowd and her team as they all made their way across the room off the floor, her uniform sparkling in the blinding spotlights.
‘Oh, I’m fine we smashed it! I just need to go to the bathroom. I’ll see you later.’
Find the nearest bathroom sign. A level above the one she is on. Hold it in. Thirty more steps. Fifteen. Ten. Five. Elara burst through the bathroom door, locking it behind her and hurled herself towards the toilet bowl. She sank to her knees, clutching the sides of the toilet and up came her lunch from earlier.