Showstopper

Music blasted through the speakers in the convention center. Photographers were adjusting their cameras and testing the lighting. The announcer seated herself at the judges’ table, going through each program and checking people in. Judges got ready at the table, rustling through their papers, and setting up their computers. The refreshment stand had a long line of ravenous customers who did not prepare food for the event. Families bustled in the audience, getting ready to cheer on the competitors. Parents, siblings, and grandparents all sitting at tables, chattering excitedly. Contestants hurried around backstage like a colony of ants. Their parents rushing around with them, getting them ready. Some were doing their makeup or hair. Others were putting on costumes or rehearsing their numbers. Everyone was excited to perform on stage. 

I, however, was not excited, rather, I was terrified. The thought of performing in front of hundreds of people was enough to make me want to puke. Some so many people could do elaborate tricks or complicated turns. The people beside me had beautiful handmade costumes that made them glow. I spotted someone across the room who did an ariel into a split. Someone else was stretching in an oversplit. Her body was bent in half. As I looked around, it became a that I would have to compete against these professional-like dancers. They all looked so confident, so relaxed. I was not. There was a pool of sweat in my palm, and my mouth was as dry as sandpaper. Images of what could go wrong plagued my thoughts as I attempted to stretch. What if I fall from my turns? What if I trip over the tape on stage? What if I land and twist my ankle? What if my costume falls off in the middle? What if my music doesn’t work? What if I’m not even supposed to be here, and my mom had made a mistake? What if I was never even registered, and I won’t be able to perform? Lost in my land of worries, I was unaware that the competition had started until my mom broke into my thoughts. 

“Are you ready for this?” she asked encouragingly, “You’re going to do great, don’t worry.” I tried to answer but no sound would come out of my mouth. Instead, I just nodded. My mom didn’t look satisfied with my response, so she continued, “Look, I know there are a lot of people competing, and some might seem to be better than you, but don’t let that get to you. You have an amazing dance, and you have worked so hard for this moment. Your dance is unique, and that will help a lot. Don’t forget to smile. Just go out there and do your best.” She looked me in the eye, searching for a sign that I understood. I looked back, still terrified, but I felt better. 

I continued to get ready, stretch, and warm-up, paying little attention to the people around me. Although I still caught glimpses of impressive tricks, I reminded myself every time that I had a unique advantage. Finally, I saw my name on the screen for the upcoming numbers. On the pink screen in white letters, there it was: “1172- Coppelia.” I still had 2 dances before mine. 

Walking to the stage, I felt a sudden flood of anxiety. My hands started to sweat again, my mouth went dry, my knees were trembling, and my heart was beating at a hundred beats per minute. I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I knew I should practice some deep breathing, but each breath I took was shallower than the last. I tried to convince myself to stop being nervous or else my performance might suffer, but my heart kept racing and my knees were still trembling. 

Applause and cheers broke out in the audience and I knew that the time had come. The previous number had just ended, and now it was my turn. I entered the wings and got ready. “In advanced teen ballet, please welcome number 1172, Coppelia.” The applause was sparse and the yelling ceased. Silence filled the room. Suddenly, the opening notes of my variation sounded through the speaker. It was happening. 

I did a temps levé out onto the stage and started my variation. Once onstage, I gazed out into the sea of unknown faces. I looked down and saw each of the judges’ faces. I could feel the stage lights illuminating my costume and makeup. It felt surreal, but I needed to focus on what was happening. While dancing, I made sure to smile and apply all the corrections I had gotten prior. Before long, I could hear the music building up to the final note. It was nearing the end of my performance. I chaînéd to the ending music and finally did a big pas de chat. The crowd erupted in applause as I bowed. 

Once off stage, relief flooded over me as I realized that I had done it. I did my routine without any major mistakes, and it was the best I could do. Of course, it was not perfect and there were many places I could have done better on, but there is no such thing as a perfect performance. All those practice sessions were to prepare for this moment. The weeks I spent watching what I ate was all leading to the two minutes I had on stage. It wasn’t until a minute later, did I realize how exhausted I was. There were only a few numbers left before awards, and I was not terrified anymore, I was excited. This new feeling felt so good, it was the feeling of freedom. I no longer had to worry about what was going to happen on stage, everything was up to the judges now. 

After twenty minutes have passed, I am back on stage, this time accompanied by all the other competitors. I was no longer in my red Coppelia dress but in my school jacket and pants. It was time for awards. The whole arena had a feeling of excitement and pride, but also an underlying note of anticipation and nervousness. Although I knew I did the best I could, I couldn’t help feeling the same terrifying feeling I felt right before my performance. My heart was about to come out of my mouth. There were groups of people from the same company huddled together, talking excitedly, but I was alone. There was no one to talk with to kill time. I just sat there, staring into space as I waited for the awards to start.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the awards ceremony!” the announcer declared into the microphone. This was followed by a huge round of applause from everyone. “Now, I know all of you are so ready to know the results, so without further ado, let’s get on with the awards!” Everyone sat straight up, ears perked, waiting to hear their name get called. “First, we will start with teen advanced contemporary solos…” I didn’t hear the rest because I knew that I would be one of the last categories to be called. There would be an occasional scream amid the constant applause that would bring me back to the present, and after many categories were called, I heard “in teen advanced ballet solos, number 1172- Coppelia receives double platinum.” My heart skipped a beat. That was the highest award possible. Heart pounding with excitement, I went up to receive my award. But that wasn’t the end. It was time for overalls. I knew there were a few other numbers who also received double platinum, so I could either get fourth, third, second, or first. 

“It is time to announce the top ten winners. Starting in tenth place,” the announcer started to list the overall rankings. I forgot to breathe when she reached the fourth-place winner. My name wasn’t announced for fourth place. It wasn’t announced for third either. “In second place,” the announcer started, “is number 864…” The second-place winner was not me. I didn’t know what to think. Fortunately, I didn’t have to think. The announcer’s voice interrupted my thoughts. 

“And in first place, the overall winner is… number 1172, Coppelia!” I couldn’t believe it. Despite all the other talented contestants, I rose to the top as number one. I jumped up to get my award and nearly tripped over the tape on stage. The feeling of holding that first place trophy was dreamlike. I had to pinch myself to make sure I indeed, was not dreaming. Looking out into the audience this time, I didn’t feel the fear that I felt at the beginning, I felt excitement and pride. I realized that despite all the hard times and pre-performance jitters, hard work will always pay off.