I stepped off the plane and the heat hit me like a wall. Sweat instantly formed on my skin, making my clothes cling to me and my hair curled up even more, each strand bouncing up wildly. I checked my phone—107 degrees. How was I going to survive the next three weeks alone, without my parents? Worse, how was I going to manage living with people I didn’t even know? The whole idea of being away made me want to throw up. I had spent the last two days packing and preparing to go to Austin, Texas, where I would be dancing at the Ballet Austin summer intensive from 9 to 5, Monday through Friday, for three straight weeks.
I stepped into my dorm room, and the sharp scent of cleaning supplies greeted me. As I dragged my suitcase inside, a friendly face popped out of one of the rooms.
“Hey! I’m Addie. I’m a little nervous, but I’m sooo excited!” she said with a bright smile.
Her excitement was contagious, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I lugged my giant suitcase into the room and laid it down on the bed. The room was surprisingly spacious: two beds, a bathroom with two sinks, two closets, two desks and a giant concrete wall separating the beds. Just as I began to unpack, I heard a knock at the door.
When I opened it, another girl stood there, looking just as nervous as me. Addie quickly stepped out and introduced herself again.
The girl replied, “Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Sofia. I’m from California.” I realized that I would be living with people from all over the country.
After about two hours, I was all settled in. Addie, and Sofia and I had already gotten closer. I felt more comfortable. But my mom was still there. Addie’s dad was still there. I forgot that my mom had to go back to Michigan. We walked into the other room, said our goodbyes, and she walked through the door, closing it behind her.
I was now on my own for the next three weeks. My eyes scanned the room, trying to take it all in. My heart, which had been racing earlier, now beat slower, though I could still feel my hands fidgeting with my nails. I took a deep breath and walked back into my room. The night flew by in a blur. We ate dinner together like we’d been best friends for years. After showering and changing into my pajamas, I laid my head on my pillow, knowing that tomorrow was the placement class—the moment I’d find out what level I’d be in during the intensive.
I woke up at 9:30 a.m., though placement class wasn’t until 2 p.m. I was a bundle of nerves. For a moment, I had forgotten that I wasn’t at home. When I remembered, the homesickness tugged at me. I hadn’t slept well, my eyes struggled to stay open and though my breathing was slow and steady, my heart raced. I grabbed my phone and saw a text from my mom, one of those long, heartfelt messages filled with love and encouragement, ending with a flood of heart emojis. Addie came and sat on my bed, sharing that she was nervous too, and hadn’t slept much either. Somehow, knowing she felt the same made everything a little bit easier.
By 1:15, we were out the door, fully dressed and ready for our first ballet class at Ballet Austin. The wait at the bus stop seemed endless. My bag felt like it was full of bricks, sweat trickled down my forehead and my legs were already tired. When the bus finally arrived, we all climbed on and made our way to the studio. There, we split up to warm up in different rooms, surrounded by people I didn’t know. Yet, despite the unfamiliar faces, I felt oddly at home in the ballet studio, a place that had always been my safe space, surrounded by my closest friends.
The moment finally came to head into the placement class. My leotard clung to my skin and I could feel every bobby pin pressing into my scalp. The barres were already set up, so I found my spot. My palm was sweaty, making the barre feel slick. My legs felt weak and shaky and my eyes struggled to focus through the nerves.
“I’m already in the intensive, so the stressful audition part is over,” I kept reminding myself. This was the reason I was here. It wasn’t just about dancing; it was about facing my fears and not being afraid of the unknown. I realized I didn’t need to be at home to feel comfortable, I could find that comfort in the dance itself, in every turn and jump. The next three weeks would be tough, but they’d also be a chance to grow, not just as a dancer, but as a person. And in that moment, I knew I could handle it, just like everyone else around me. We were all going to get through it together.
