Filed to story: Penny and Navy Brother Asher
About the way his voice sounded like gravel when he said nothing at all.
About the way he stared, steady and cold, like he could see things in me I didn’t even know were there,
I should stop thinking about all of it-Tyler, Zoe, Rebecca, Asher, the weight of that night-but it’s like my brain refuses to cooperate.
I shake myself out of it and head downstairs, stretching my arms over my head until my shoulders crack, trying to force the tension out of my body before it sinks too deep.
The kitchen smells like coffee and toast.
“Morning,” I say, pulling my cardigan tighter around me as I step into the room.
My parents look up from where they’re sitting at the island, twin mags of coffee steaming between their hands.
They share a glance.
A small, weighted glance.
I know that look.
It’s the look they wear before they tell me something I’m not going to like.
My stomach knots, small and tight
“What’s up?” I ask, trying for lightness”
My mom sets her mug down with a quiet click. “Sweetheart, we need to tell you something.
I slide onto a stool, heart sinking before they epen start.
“We have to leave for a conference,” my dad says. “Last minute. Today.”
I blink at them.
“Today?” I repeal.
They nod, twin grimaces twisting their faces.
The
? wwallow around the lamp Hring in my throat,
They’ve always uppited me, in their way if this in joportant. in c a big rop
I nod, forcing a small smile. It’s okay I get in
“You’ll be fine,” my dad says, reaching mer to squeeze my hand. ready. You don’t need in to hold your hand theag
I I bite the inside of my cheek hand enough to taste copper but not again.
“You can ask Tyler to drive coffers. “Or you can take the bus if you’d rather, It’s not for
I don’t say anything.
I don’t know what to say.
“We’ll be gone about a week,” my dad says. “It’s out of state.”
A week.
In this house that already feels too big when it’s full, let alone when it’s empty
“You can have Tyler over,” my mom adds, smiling, “Or any of your friends. Make it a little less lonely.”
“Sure,” I say, my voice sounding too small to my own ears,
She squeezes my shoulder gently. “We’ll call you after your audition. Promise.”
I nod again, the movement mechanical, and watch as they both stand, bustling around the kitchen gathering bags and travel mugs and papers, already halfway out the door before I can really register it.
Within minutes, the front door slams shut behind them, and I’m left standing in the kitchen, the smell of coffee lingering like a ghost.
I wrap my arms around myself and lean back against the counter, staring at the empty doorway.
It’s not a big deal
I’m used to it.
They travel all the time.
I’m old enough to be on my own.
It’s line.
But when I close my eyes, all I can see is tomorrow.
The cavernous audition hall.
The long, polished floors.
The rows of judges.
The hundreds of other dancers.
And nie.
Alone
I breathe out slowly, forcing the tightness in my chest to loosen.
It doesn’t matter.
I have bigger things to worry about than feeling sorry for myself.
Tomorrow is what matters.
Tomorrow is everything.
I push off the counter and head upstairs, already mentally running through my routine, the music, the counts, the breaths.
Focus, Penny
Focus. brother
The studio door swings shut behind me with a soft clatter that echoes down the empty sidewalk, the heavy keys slipping from my hand late the pocket of my sweatshirt as I step out into the night, the cool air washing over my flushed skin like a wave I didn’t know I was
It’s late.
Later thus it should be, if I’m being honest.
I pull my bag higher onto my shoulder, rolling my neck to shake off the last of the adrenaline, the faint hum of music still ochning in my ears even though the speaker’s been dead for half an hour.
Practice went… well..
Better than expected.
Better than it had any right to go after the week I’ve had.
The choreography had flowed out of me tonight like water, my body finding every count, every breath, every pivot and turn without the unal stuttering, stalling fight. It felt good, standing there in the middle of the battered little community studio, sweating and smiling and knowing that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow won’t be a disaster after all..
I needed that win.
I needed to feel like I could still trust myself, still count on my own two feet,
I breathe in deep, letting the cool air settle something tight inside my chest, and start walking, my sneakers scuffing softly against the sidewalk.
I debate calling a taxi for half a second, thumb hovering over the rideshare app on my phone, but the streets are lively enough, buzzing with college kids and late-night diners and the soft roar of a band spilling music out of a pub two blocks down.
It doesn’t feel creepy.
It doesn’t feel dangerous.
It feels almost normal.
And after the way this week’s gone, normal sounds like the best thing I could ask for.
So I tuck my phone back into my pocket and set off, the chill brushing against my legs through my leggings, the weight of the day starting to settle heavy and familiar in my muscles.
I’m rounding a corner near the old library, my head down, lost in thought about the first few counts of my solo, when I slam hard into something solid and unyielding.
My bag slips from my shoulder, crashing to the sidewalk, and I stumble back a step, muttering a breathless apology before I even manage to look up.
“I’m sorry-I wasn’t watching where [-*
And then I see him.
Asher.
Standing there in running shoes and a dark sweatshirt, sweat darkening the fabric over his chest, his hair pushed back from his forehead, his