Chapter 6 - Welcome to Chicago
The energy in Chicago was electric.
The National Young Performers Dance Competition was held at a massive theater downtown.
There were thousands of dancers.
Glitter.
Hairspray.
Tears.
It was absolute chaos.
We arrived on Thursday morning for registration.
As we walked into the main lobby, we were immediately swallowed by a sea of neon studio jackets.
I kept a firm grip on Lily’s shoulder.
“Stay close,” I said over the noise.
We finally made it to the registration desk.
“Name?” the woman behind the desk asked, barely looking up.
“Lily Hart. Independent.”
The woman paused, typing something into her computer.
“Ah, the wildcard winner. Here is your packet, your backstage passes, and your dressing room assignment.”
She handed me a large envelope.
“You’re in Dressing Room C.”
We navigated through the crowded hallways, dodging dancers stretching on the floor and mothers aggressively applying stage makeup.
We pushed open the door to Dressing Room C.
It was a large communal space, packed with mirrors and rolling racks.
And sitting right in the center, surrounded by her entourage of dance moms, was Vanessa.
She was wearing a tailored blazer, barking orders at a terrified-looking teenager.
Vanessa froze when she saw us.
The entire room seemed to go quiet.
The other mothers, the ones who had watched Vanessa humiliate Lily weeks ago, turned to stare.
Vanessa slowly stood up.
Her fake smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Sarah,” she said tightly. “Lily. I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
“We earned our spot, Vanessa,” I said, leading Lily to an empty mirror in the corner.
Vanessa walked over to us, her heels clicking loudly against the linoleum.
She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Getting a pity spot from a wildcard qualifier.”
I unpacked Lily’s makeup bag, ignoring her.
“You’re embarrassing this family,” Vanessa hissed.
“The only one embarrassing this family is you,” Mark’s voice boomed from the doorway.
Vanessa spun around.
Mark stood there, holding our garment bags, looking absolutely furious.
“Mark,” Vanessa stammered. “You don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly,” Mark said, stepping between Vanessa and our daughter. “You tried to crush a kid to stroke your own ego. And now you’re scared because she’s better than your entire elite team.”
Gasps echoed from the other mothers in the room.
No one ever spoke to Vanessa Hart like that.
Vanessa’s face turned bright red.
“She has no technique!” Vanessa snapped, losing her composure. “She has no polish! She will be laughed off that stage today, and I will not let it reflect on my studio!”
“Good,” Mark said coldly. “Because she doesn’t belong to your studio.”
Vanessa glared at us, breathing heavily.
“Fine,” she spat. “We’ll let the scores speak for themselves.”
She turned on her heel and marched back to her team.
I looked at Lily.
Her hands were shaking slightly.
I grabbed her hands and held them tight.
“Look at me,” I said softly.
She met my eyes.
“She is terrified of you, Lily. Because you are something she can never control.”
Lily took a deep breath, the shaking stopped, and she nodded.
May you like
“I’m going to beat them, Mom,” she whispered.
“I know you are.”
