Mackenzie

Late night are the best. Most of the time it means I'm performing late. That's why it's so awesome. 

Tonight I'm doing a solo hip hop routine. I do ballet, and hip hop. And with my hip hop I do some gymnastics moves like back handspring, and back tuck. I prefer hip hop over ballet any day.

I put on my black leotard with the sparkly wrists. Then, I pull on my purple and blue sparkly skirt. Mom helps me put my hair dark brown hair a ponytail.

"You can do it tonight?" She says looking into the mirror. Her blond hair is in curls today. I was adopted. My parents already had a kid, but they loved the way Asian babies looked, so they adopted me. My older brother is way older than me. I'm 13 and he's 25. 

We drive in silence to the auditorium of this church 2 hours away. Dance competitions are in different places. One was at a school auditorium, one was outside, this one's at a church. 

Mom and Dad find their seats, and I find Coach Fayes, my dance coach. 

"You're going to do great, Mac." She says to me. I smile a nervous smile. "If you at least get third place that's awesome. Because, if you do then you make it into nationals. Yay!" 

I nod my head slowly.

"You're on in 5" Then she leaves to talk to my teammate, Isabelle. Her blond hair is whipped back into a bun also. 

5 minutes goes by so fast. "Next up Mackenzie Starr. 13-year-old girl. She's the youngest one in 10 years." The announcer guy speaks. I walk up on stage, get in my starting position, then wait for the music to start.

So many bright lights are cast upon me. My music starts playing. My legs, and arms and everything in-between somehow knows what to do because I've spaced it. I completely forgotten my routine. My muscle memory kicks in and does it all for me at the right time too. 

I'm out of breath by the time the music stops playing. Everyone starts clapping for me. I walk off stage to the back where Coach Fayes stands smiling at me. 

"You did it! Nice job, Mac!" She says.

I smile at her. Then, go to my blue and green dance bag. I search around in there until I find my inhaler. I have asthma. It's really bad for my dance career that I intend to have. 

The announcer guy starts to speak. "In 3rd place we have Isabelle Palmer." Everyone claps. She doesn't look to happy to be getting 3rd place. "In 2nd place we have Micheal Reed." Everyone claps. "And in 1st place..." He gives it a dramatic pause. I know it's not going to be me. I just know it. "Mackenzie Starr." 

A huge smile appears on my face as I walk up to where Micheal and Isabelle are. Everyone starts clapping and taking pictures. I meet my parents at the front after I change clothes.

"Nice job Mackenzie." They wrap me in a hug, and clap me on the back. "You did fantastic." We walk to the car. 

We drive in silence for the first 5 minutes or so. "How's your asthma?" Mom asks breaking the silence.

"Uh. Good." I say. I hate having them worry about me. Because once they get worrying then they'll pull me out of dance for a while until they're content that I really am okay.

"Okay, good, because we'd hate to be forcing you to dance when your asthma is acting up." Mom says. 

I roll my eyes and look out the window.

I get home, and flop on my bed. I look at my clock 10:30. I am tired. And I'm not tired all at the same time. I take a nice hot relaxing shower, then get changed in my pajamas. I say good-night to Mom and Dad, then go into my room and sit legs crossed on my bed. 

I open up my turquoise laptop. It's around this time when everyone's active. Isabelle sends me a message. 

Nice job today Mac. You did real well.

She likes to try to cheer me up when I fail but it just ends up hurting me more. Same with when I succeed. I send her a message back.

Thanks, you did well too. 3rd place!!! Awesome!

The guy who I went to summer camp with messages me. 

Hey, Mackenzie, how'd you do at your competition?

I always smile when he messages me. He lives a few doors down, and my parents don't even know about him. I message him back.

Oh, Ryder, it was amazing. I got 1st place. And I kinda forgot my routine.

I see that he's typing something else.

Muscle memory kick in?

I nod to my screen, though he can't see.

Yeah. I'm kinda tired. So I'm going to leave.

You? Tired? Who are you and what have you done with my Mackenzie.

Bye, Ryder.

I shut my laptop and go to sleep. I am more hungry than tired I think. But, I am really tired. Black spots dance around my vision of my left eye. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.