I've been working with a professional choreographer all semester. " Jasmine kept her head down, focusing on her textbook instead of her untouched lunch. The nervous energy coursing through her body had eliminated her appetite. As she was leaving the cafeteria, Allison and two other girls from Whitney's circle deliberately bumped into her, causing Jasmine to stumble. Her backpack fell, spilling its contents across the floor. "Oops," Allison said with false concern.
"So clumsy of me. " Jasmine scrambled to gather her belongings as students walked past, some deliberately stepping on her papers. When she reached for her water bottle, she found it had opened, soaking part of her uniform. The white doough fabric now had a spreading stain. "What's this? " Allison asked, picking up Jasmine's belt before she could grab it. "Some kind of costume?
Are you in the showcase? " "Give it back," Jasmine said quietly, standing up. Something in her tone made Allison hesitate. She dropped the belt with a nervous laugh. Whatever. It's probably for some weird cultural thing.
Jasmine checked her father's gold chain, thankfully still safe in an interior pocket, and assessed the damage to her uniform. The water stain was noticeable, but would eventually dry. The real question was whether it would dry in time. During her free period, she slipped into the empty girl's bathroom and used the hand dryer to blow hot air on the damp fabric. The noise attracted unwanted attention when Ms.
Bennett, the guidance counselor, entered. Miss Taylor, what exactly are you doing? Jasmine quickly stuffed the uniform back into her bag. Just drying something that got wet, ma'am. Miss Bennett's eyes narrowed.
I understand you've entered the showcase tonight. So they were monitoring her. Yes, ma'am. I hope you understand the sensitivity of your position here at Oakidge. The showcase is a tradition for our legacy families.
It would be unfortunate if anything disrupted that tradition. The threat was thinly veiled, but Jasmine met her gaze steadily. I'm just there to perform, ma'am, like everyone else. After Ms. Bennett left, Jasmine leaned against the sink, doubt creeping in.
Was she risking too much? The scholarship, their financial stability, her future, all for what? A moment of recognition, a chance to show her true self. As these thoughts swirled, her phone buzzed with a text from Ms. Powell.
Gym office is empty. Seventh period, if you need a quiet place to focus, keys under the mat. The small act of support steadied her. During seventh period, Jasmine slipped into the gym office, locking the door behind her. She spread her uniform out to finish drying, then sat cross-legged on the floor, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing.