Ballet

Plié, derrière, relevé, pas de chat- wait, this wasn’t it. Plié, relevé, derrière, pas de chat-

In the middle of what felt like her hundredth retry, Odette finally noticed the quiet reflection in the mirror. The light brown hair that felt like it was made out of gold, that unmistakable reflection in the mirror that felt like the version of her who wasn’t garbage.

— Clara— said Odette, reluctant to look back. — What exactly are you doing here?

Odette couldn’t quite look at her face from the reflection, but she could feel that same confused, relaxed expression her sister always made.

— I’m practicing with you.

— You already got the choreography perfectly. The teacher even praised how flawless your execution was. Why are you practicing here? 

— Because you were out late at night practicing, so I came here to practice with you.

Odette didn’t really know how to take this. It felt almost malicious. Really, even an hour of extra practice would be overkill for Little Miss Golden Child. Why was she here? The only one who needed those hours after hours on end to practice simple things was Odette, plain and simple. Was she ensuring not even blood, sweat and tears would be enough to have a chance to escape her gripping shadow?

— I don’t think you need to practice. I haven’t gotten the choreography right yet, so that’s why I’m practicing.

— It looked lonely, with you practicing alone for so long. I thought I’d practice with you.

As if it didn’t feel even more lonely with you here… Are you here to pity me? Is that it? Am I so pathetic as to need your pity?

Odette turned around to face her sister. They weren’t identical twins, even if they did look similar. There were quite a few differences: Clara’s hair was lighter, Clara’s mind was brighter, and she didn’t have a single worry or anguish in her heart. Though they were the same age, Clara felt unmistakably more childlike in expressions, behavior and mentality… Which just made things worse. She wasn’t even taking it seriously. She wasn’t. Odette was pathetic enough to be completely overshadowed by-

— Dette?

— What?

— You’re staring a lot… Are you tired?

— I’m not. I’m just frustrated.— Odette sighed and faced the metal bar again. — I’ll practice another part.

— Okay.— replied Clara, getting ready to practice the same part with her.

This part was better. Odette felt a little bit more confident. She could remember what to do, at least. It felt like it was going swimmingly. Maybe she could be the best in the world at that part. Maybe even better than Clara. Maybe if she kept practicing this part forever it would be fine. Her legs hurt a lot and her feet were full of blisters, but really, that just came with the territory of being a ballerina, and practicing for five hours straight—

There was suddenly a thud, and the sound of crying.

— Clara?!

She was crying, and holding her ankle. — Sorry… Dette… hic… I think I twisted my ankle…

— Huh?! How? Wait here, I’ll get the first aid kit!

While Odette was applying ice to the ankle, Clara quickly stopped crying. Still, how did Clara manage to twist her ankle? She isn’t the clumsy sort, and that part wasn’t that difficult.

— Thank you… Dette…

— How did you twist your ankle?

— Um… Maybe it was my form? It was uncomfortable to do those moves like that… So I eventually ended up twisting my ankle and falling, I think?

— Your form, of all things? You didn’t slip? It wasn’t sweat? I thought your form was perfect.

— I don’t know, I was just following what you were doing…

Following what I was doing.

Is this mockery? Is this hell? A twisted ankle was one of the worst minor accidents to happen to a ballerina. Clara was following what Odette was doing. Even at her best, Odette’s form was bad enough to injure Clara. Clara never said anything, so she injured herself to show how awful, garbage, how worthless Odette was. It was all Odette’s fault. It was all her fault for being worthless. It was all because she thought she could maybe be good at anything.

Stupid. Worthless. Good for nothing. Trash. Nobody loves you, nobody ever will.

Odette’s hand started to shake.

— Dette…?

No, no. It wasn’t because she was garbage. She was slow, but slow kids are also deserving of love and can lead happy lives. The choreography was legitimately kind of hard, and she was tired, so it’s understandable her form was sloppy. It was all because of geniuses like Clara. It was all because of that perfect, flawless, golden, delicate, perfect, perfect genius called Clara. It was all her fault. It was all her fault. She should’ve known better than to lower herself to the standards of an ordinary person. And yet she did anyways, and injured herself, and inflicted guilt onto Odette who wasn’t perfect. Because she wasn’t perfect.

How cruel. How utterly cruel.

— Did you come here just to laugh at me…?

— I came here to play with you, Dette…

— Ah, so this is playing to you. This is how you play. Stop. Please. Stop. It’s too cruel. You shouldn’t play like that.

The white stockings surrounded by ice were now getting stained with tears.

— I should… stop playing…?

— Play in some other way, please. Something that won’t get me injuring you. Please. Shit! The presentation is in a week. I sprained your ankle. You sprained your ankle. Damn it, damn it, damn it, the teacher is going to yell at me. Mom is going to be sad. Why did this have to happen? Why do you have to ruin everything?!

— Ah…

Odette could feel a hand patting her head.

As if this situation couldn’t get more pathetic. Even after injuring her, even after yelling horrible things at her, Odette’s saint of a sister was still the one comforting her. As if it wasn’t enough to be wildly less talented, she was a much worse person as well.

Those golden locks were going to plague her nightmares.