Ivyâs mind was a whirlwind of domestic chaos waiting to be tamed. Sparing another minute on this trivial squabble was a luxury she simply couldnât afford.
âIf talking wonât cut it, Iâll just let my attorney do their thing,â Ivy thought, her patience thinning.
These werenât bosom buddies or lifelong confidantes; they were just faces that occasionally blurred past her in the mirrored walls of the dance studio. She could very well never see them again after today, and frankly, she wasnât too fussed about it.
Their opinions? They could keep them. Ivyâs world wouldnât wobble on its axis for lack of their approval.
It was at that moment that the dance instructor, Ms. Madison, burst from the innermost studio like a bat out of hell. âWhatâs the hold-up here? Iâve been waiting since our call. I shouldâve known youâd be the roadblock.â
She stepped in front of Ivy, then turned to them with a mix of disappointment and ire. âAs my students, you ought to know better than to gossip and stir trouble. Especially you, Ophelia. The world doesnât revolve around your desires, you know. Youâre all adults; itâs high time you acted like it.â
Ms. Madison continued, her tone sharp as a whip, âInstead of wasting your breath on pettiness, maybe spend a moment considering why Ivyâs dance moves are the talk of the town.â
The murmurs of envy were no secret; Ivyâs natural grace had been the subject of much begrudging praise. The simmering discontent finally boiled over when one of the dancers sneered. âTalent, talent, talent-thatâs all we ever hear. But what else does she have? I donât get why sheâs put on a pedestal. Is it just because sheâs a star?â
The room bristled with tension, the accusation hanging heavy as the dancer continued, âWe see the favoritism, Ms. Madison. Whoâs to say none of us will be stars someday? You donât have to look down on us like weâre nothing.â
Though the words were meant to be a whisper they were as clear as day. Ms. Madisonâs laugh was cold, devoid of humor. âSeems Iâve been lax in my teaching if you think itâs okay to spew such nonsense. Forget Ivy; youâd need to outdance me to even think about challenging her. And trust me, none of you are even close to her effortless elegance. Maybe in a few years.â
Ophelia, stung by the rebuke, stood her ground. âIf weâre all students here, why canât we challenge her? You keep talking about her talent, Ms. Madison, but sheâs barely been here. Weâve been training for years. Itâs not fair to be so biased. Ivy, letâs settle this with a dance-off. If you win, youâll have my respect, and Iâll never say those things again. What do you say?â
The idea sparked a fire in the group. They were all trained dancers with years of hard work under their belts. Surely all of them combined could take on Ivy.
Ms. Madison was about to intervene, but Ivy stepped forward, a gentle hand on her instructorâs shoulder, âI appreciate your concern, Ms. Madison, but I need to handle this myself.â
Ivy understood the implications-she might leave this studio soon, but her instructor had to continue working here, and siding with a student could jeopardize her reputation and future recruitment.
Plus, she would simply treat it as a warm-up.
âA dance-off it is, then,â Ivy took a step forward and said with a calm smile. âWhatâs the challenge?â
The crowd buzzed with excitement. Ivyâs acceptance of the dance-off was unexpected, especially considering Opheliaâs prowess and the international accolades to her name.