Crushed and Broken

Chapter 2
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I finish class, after rehearsing for my school showcase. It's a big deal, because it's everyone's chance to show the city what they've got. I'm acting as the lead in the school play, and dancing with my dance class. I have the most coveted role in the showcase: the closing spot. I'm doing a solo that I learned for a huge national competition last year. I won the whole competition with that solo. Hopefully I can win over all the people who doubt me, and think I'm not good enough. Everyone who isn't my friend hates me for it. They all said I was a horrible dancer, and earning that spot proved the haters wrong.

After practice, I run into the dressing room and change back into my normal clothes. I fix my makeup and hair, then grab my backpack and dance bag. I dash out of the dressing room and down the hall towards Emily's office. I knock quietly and Emily says to come in. I walk through the door and drop my bags on the floor. I sink down into a chair while Emily types something on her laptop. I sit in silence for a minute, while Emily finishes. Then she looks up from the computer screen. Emily's perfect, curly brown hair frames her face, and her makeup is done to perfection. I used to wish I could look just like her.

-"So Charlotte, what's been going on with you lately? I've noticed your dancing has slipped... You keep missing turns, and your dancing has just become sloppy. Is something going on that I should know about?"
-"No, nothing's wrong... I'm just stressed about the showcase and having to close it. That's all..." My voice trails off at the end of the sentence.
-"Are you sure Charlotte? You can tell me anything."
-"Yeah, really Em. I'm fine."
-"Okay, just remember Char, you got that spot because you deserve it. You're the best performer in this whole school. Just remember that if someone gives you crap about it."
-"I will Em. Thanks. " I say with a weak smile.
-"Alright, I give you a pass so you can get to class."
Emily writes me a pass, and I grab my stuff and leave.

I walk down the hall to my AP History class, thinking. I don't know why I didn't just tell Emily what was wrong, but that would have been to easy. It would have been to easy for me to just let her know. I have to torture myself, because of what I've done. Even if I had told Emily, she still wouldn't have understood where I was coming from. Nobody understands me.