"I have class in a couple hours, then I go to studio until five o'clock."
"Studio?"
"It's dance class," I explain.
Nodding his head, he asks, "You do that every day?"
"Yep. Two hours a day except for Tuesdays and Thursdays, which are three hours. But I tend to go in on the weekends as well for extra practice."
"That's a lot. When do you have time for anything else?"
Pressing my lips together and shaking my head, I say, "I don't"
"That bother you?"
"No...Why?" I ask.
"I don't know. When do you ever get down time?"
Down time isn't an option for me. The more occupied my time is, the less my mind tends to drift. "I don't. But I love dance, so I consider that my down time. It relaxes me."
Ryan continues to ask questions about dance and school as time begins to pass gently by. When I finish my tea, he notices and offers to get me another. I decline, knowing that I need to head home and clean up before going back to campus. He walks me out to where my car is parked and reminds me to think about the hiking trip the guys have planned. I tell him I will before getting into my car.
Storming out of the double doors of the studio, I head straight to my car, slide in, and slam the door shut. Frustrated, I grab the steering wheel and lay my head against my hands. My heart pounds fast, and I can still here the echoing of Ms. Emerson's hasty remarks in my head: Get it together, Candace! Where is your head at? CLAP! CLAP! Feel it! Come on!
I am so humiliated. I have never been yelled at like that in class before, but I feel like what she is asking for is outside of my control. My feet are flawless, I have no doubts about that, but I know what she's wanting, and I just can't give it to her. Inside that studio is the one place, the only place, where my head is free—where I am free. I don't want to lose that, lose the escape, the freedom, the nothingness.
She hammered me for nearly the entire two hours. I kept my eyes focused, but I could hear the sneers from a few of the other girls.
As I'm driving home, my phone rings from inside my dance bag. Digging through it, I grab my cell and look at the screen that reads: MOM CALLING. Ugh! I decline the call and let it go to voicemail then toss it back into my bag. That woman is the last person I want to talk to right now. Who am I kidding? She is the last person I want to talk to most of the time.
I haven't spoken with either one of my parents in over a month. Thanksgiving is a week away, and I'm certain that's why she's calling me. I'm dreading having to go home and spend time with them. For now, I'll just avoid her, because with the mood I'm in, there will be no way to avoid a fight with her.
Pulling up to my house, I see Kimber's car and Seth's jeep parked out front. I was hoping she wouldn't be here. I really just want to be alone right now instead of having another awkward and tense interaction with the girl who used to be my best friend—who I wish still was.
When I walk through the door, the house is quiet, and I assume they are in Kimber's room. I walk back to my room and begin powdering my pointes. I hang them up in my closet to air-dry before hopping into the shower.
As I am rinsing the last of the shampoo out of my hair, I hear the sounds that are becoming all too familiar from Kimber's room. "Are you kidding me?" I mumble in frustration. All I want is some peace and quiet to ease the stress I'm feeling.
Shutting off the water, I step out of the shower and quickly dry myself off. I throw on some underwear and a white tank top then walk into my closet to grab my black velour sport pants and matching zip-up hoodie. Standing in front of my mirror at my dresser, I shake out as much water as I can from my hair before throwing it up into a messy, loose bun on top of my head. I quickly apply some powder and swipe on my lip-gloss before sliding into my Uggs.
Hearing Kimber and Seth is making my skin crawl at this point, so I throw my sleeping pills in my purse, grab my keys, and get the hell out. I figure I can just spend the evening at Jase's apartment. I really need a little space to clear my head and relax.
When I arrive at Jase's and let myself in, I'm shocked to see Ryan sitting on his couch. I stop in my tracks and stare, unsure of what to say. What is he doing here?
"Hey, is everything all right?" I hear Jase ask from the kitchen.
I turn my head away from Ryan and focus on Jase. Taking a few steps further into the apartment, I respond, "Umm, yeah...I mean no." I'm stumbling over my words like an idiot, but I am so caught off guard that Ryan is here. And then realizing that it wasn't but a few minutes ago I was in the shower and here I stand with my wet hair that's tied up in a hair tie is making my head swirl.
Jase walks around the bar with a couple bottles of beer and heads over to the couch to hand one to Ryan. "What's that mean?" he asks.
"Nothing, never mind." I let out a deep sigh and walk over to take a seat in the oversized chair that is next to the couch. I flop down and lean my head back. "I didn't know you would have company, or I would have called or something."
Laughing, Jase says, "Candace, I gave you a key so you wouldn't have to call. You can come over whenever."
"You okay?" Ryan asks me.
I turn my head to look at him, then back at Jase, whom I know is wondering the same thing. "I don't want to talk about it," I say as I shift my eyes to the TV, which is playing SportsCenter. "Where's Mark?" I ask as I continue to zone out on the football highlights that are currently playing.
"He's finishing up rehearsals with the band. He should be here shortly, then we are heading out to Malone's to shoot some pool and chill," Jase says. His cell begins to ring and when he answers it, he grabs his jacket and excuses himself to the balcony.
"So, I take it the rest of your day didn't go well?" Ryan asks.
Looking over at him, I say, "Not exactly."
Even though I was extremely uncomfortable the other night at Spines, I'm feeling a little more at ease after hanging out with him this afternoon at work.
"Don't want to talk about it?"
I shake my head and turn my attention back to the TV when Jase walks back in.
"Who was that?" I ask
"Just Mark. He's heading over now."
"Hey, did you get a chance to think about Saturday?" Ryan asks. When I look over at him he is taking a sip of his beer.
"Saturday?" Jase questions.
"Yeah, I asked her to come with us."
I wish he wouldn't have brought this up because I know Jase will hound me until I say yes. He is on a mission to get me out more.
"Oh yeah? You coming?" Jase asks me.
Eying him, I say, "I have a lot of studying to do before finals."
"Please, we both know you are way ahead in all your classes," Jase says. "You should come. We are hiking up to the Tolmie Peak Lookout."
Not wanting to argue with Jase in front of Ryan and make him wonder why I am so anti-social, I appease him with a simple, "Fine."
When I look up at Jase, he has a big grin across his face, and I shake my head at him. Honestly, I don't really feel uneasy about going hiking. It's November, so there more than likely won't be too many people there, and it's not that often that I go to Mount Rainier. I went over the summer to go running a few times. I have never hiked to this particular lookout, but I have heard that the peak has an amazing view of the Sound.