A gorgeous transfer student joined our class today, and she had the exact same name as me. Our dance teacher sighed. “We have two Chloes now. How should we tell you apart?” Zach, my childhood friend, was the first to raise his hand. He smirked, his voice dripping with malice. “Easy, Ms. Gable. The new one is ‘Skinny Chloe.’ The old one can be ‘Fat Chloe.’” “By the way, Ms. Gable, I can’t even lift ‘Fat Chloe’ anymore. Can I get a new partner?” The whole room burst into laughter. My face burned as I clutched the fabric of my leotard. But back then, I was stupid. I thought Zach was just being his usual teasing self. After all, dance partners need years to build chemistry, and Zach and I had been dancing together for six years. Until the selection for the upcoming Annual Showcase group dance. Without a second thought, Zach grabbed Chloe Brown’s hand. “This showcase is a big deal,” he said dismissively. “Representatives from Juilliard are coming. It’s not like our usual high school recitals.” “Letting a pig like you on stage would just embarrass our school.” And just like that, I was kicked off the performance list. But I refused to give up. I started starving myself like crazy, until I fainted in the dance studio. A guy I didn’t know opened the door to the nurse’s office. He looked at me and said, “If a dancer can’t appreciate her own body, she will never be able to dance from the heart.” “Let me teach you how to show off your body.” The next second, he spun and leaped in front of me. His form was more professional than any dance teacher I had ever seen.
During dance class, Ms. Gable suddenly announced some exciting news. “For this year’s Annual Showcase, the admissions directors from the Juilliard School will be here. They’re going to select one outstanding student for a full-scholarship, one-month summer intensive in New York.” The studio erupted. “Oh my god, Juilliard!” “Are you serious? That’s basically a golden ticket to getting admitted early!” My heart hammered against my ribs. Juilliard had been my dream for as long as I could remember. And now, the opportunity was right in front of me. “Our group piece, ‘Chasing Light,’ will be the highlight of the showcase,” Ms. Gable continued. “The Juilliard directors will watch the entire thing. Whoever performs the best will have the highest chance of being chosen.” The new girl, Chloe Brown, suddenly raised her hand, looking at Ms. Gable with big, puppy-dog eyes. “Ms. Gable, since I just transferred here, I don’t have a partner yet. Does that mean I can’t participate in the showcase?” Ms. Gable looked troubled. “Well, Chloe, your situation is a bit tricky.” Since we shared the exact same first name, the teacher had started calling us by our last names. She was Brown. I was Miller. “The other students have been paired up for a long time. It wouldn’t be fair to break up established duos. Plus, you’ve just arrived, and you aren’t familiar with the choreography for ‘Chasing Light’ yet.” “How about you watch and learn this time? I promise to prioritize you for the next showcase.” Chloe Brown’s eyes immediately welled with tears. A few guys in the back looked completely heartbroken and rushed to comfort her. Right then, a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Ms. Gable, I’ll partner with her.” My head snapped up. It was Zach. Without even looking at me, he repeated, “I’ll partner with Brown for the showcase.” The studio went dead silent. Every single eye turned to me. I stood up abruptly, staring at Zach in utter disbelief. “What about me?” Ms. Gable frowned, looking back and forth between Zach and me with clear hesitation. “Zach, you’ve been partners with Miller for six years. Your chemistry is unmatched. The showcase is too important to swap partners at the last minute. Are you sure about this?” “Perfectly sure,” Zach replied coldly. “I want to dance with Chloe Brown. She’s disciplined. I’m sure her technique is way better than Chloe Miller’s.” “Besides—” He finally turned his gaze to me, wearing that familiar, nasty smirk. “With Chloe Miller’s current shape, putting her on stage would be an embarrassment. What if the Juilliard directors think our school only produces eyesores?” Harsh jeers and snickers echoed through the room. I froze, my fingers gripping the hem of my skirt so hard they turned white.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Chloe Brown said softly. “Ms. Gable, how about this? Chloe Miller and I can have a fair competition. Whoever meets the target weight gets to perform.” Ms. Gable brought out a scale and lined everyone up. One by one, the dancers stepped on. “118 lbs… 115 lbs… 123 lbs…” The numbers stayed consistently around the low 110s and 120s. Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the metal scale. The digital screen flickered before locking onto a number: 152 lbs. “Whoa!” Zach’s dramatic gasp echoed loudly across the studio. He covered his mouth in mock horror. “No wonder I couldn’t lift you! Over a hundred and fifty pounds? Seriously, Miller, are you trying to crush me to death?” The classroom erupted in laughter again. Ms. Gable’s expression soured. She frowned at me. “Chloe Miller, your weight is indeed over the limit for a dancer. You know what the professional standard is. Go home and get a grip on it. Stop being lazy.” I stood there, completely numb, and nodded. “Next,” Ms. Gable called. Chloe Brown stepped onto the scale with grace. A collective gasp filled the room. “Oh my god, only 110 lbs!” “That’s so light! Chloe, how do you keep such a perfect figure?” Chloe Brown blushed. “There’s no secret, really. Just eating less and practicing more. Dance is the art of expressing beauty, after all—” She paused, casting a subtle, mocking glance in my direction. “If you can’t even control your own weight, how can you claim to love dancing?” The studio fell quiet for a second before a wave of agreement washed over the room. “Exactly!” “Chloe Brown is amazing. So beautiful and disciplined.” Even Ms. Gable smiled, looking at Chloe Brown with pure admiration. Then, she turned her cold, disapproving gaze back to me. “Did you hear that? You both study dance, but she not only has a perfect body, she has the right attitude.” “Chloe Miller, your technique is solid, but what good is technique if your lines look like that on stage? The audience judges with their eyes first.” “Chloe Brown will take your spot for the showcase.” I lowered my head, my fingernails digging so deep into my palms that they drew blood. During the rest of the class, everyone paired up to practice “Chasing Light.” I was left standing alone in the corner, looking like a pathetic outsider. Zach’s enthusiastic voice drifted over to me. “Don’t worry, Chloe. With me as your partner, we’re going to own that stage.” After school, I snuck into the old, abandoned dance studio. And I danced. Over and over again. I refused to accept this. I had practiced “Chasing Light” for six years. Every step, every beat, was carved into my bones. I couldn’t just let it go. Deep down, a pathetic sliver of hope lingered. Maybe if Zach and Chloe Brown didn’t click, I’d still have a chance to dance with him. With no partner to lift me, I imagined his hands on my waist, leaping into the air on my own. My practice clothes were soaked in sweat. My calves cramped, and my knees throbbed with pain. But I didn’t stop. Only utter exhaustion could numb the humiliation eating me alive. “Practicing like this will only ruin your body.” A cool, calm voice echoed from the doorway. Startled, I spun around. A tall, handsome guy was leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
He looked strangely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen him before. “This is a duet. You won’t get the right flow practicing alone,” he said, his expression neutral. I froze. Muttering a quick “sorry,” I grabbed my bag and bolted out of the room. When I got home, I threw my bag down and locked myself in my bedroom. My mom knocked and came in with a bowl of hot soup. When she saw the “Extreme Weight Loss Guide” on my desk, her face fell. “You’re 5’10” and 152 pounds, Chloe. Why on earth are you trying to lose weight?” “I’m too heavy,” I mumbled. “My partner can’t lift me.” My mom opened her mouth to argue, but seeing my stubborn face, she just sighed helplessly. From that day on, my extreme diet began. For days, I survived on nothing but a tiny breakfast. By the fifth afternoon, while practicing in the studio, the room suddenly spun, and everything went black. I reached out blindly and grabbed Zach to steady myself. “I… I don’t feel well,” I gasped. Zach shoved me off instantly. “Stop acting. You’re built like a tank. How could you be sick?” I crashed against the wall, my limbs feeling like jelly. A sneering laugh sounded from above. “Oh, I get it. Are you trying to act fragile and weak like Chloe Brown? She’s naturally delicate, Miller. You just look ridiculous trying to copy her.” The surrounding classmates snickered behind their hands. Before I could even explain, my vision failed completely, and I collapsed. When I woke up, I was lying on a cot in the nurse’s office. Zach was sitting in a chair nearby, scrolling through his phone. Did he carry me here? A rush of complicated emotions flooded my chest. Zach had a nasty mouth, but when things got bad, he was always the one who showed up. Just like when we were kids, and he’d call me stupid while scraping me up off the pavement. “Thank—” I started, but as soon as Zach heard me move, he looked up with a look of pure disgust. “You seriously need to lose weight, Miller. You’re as heavy as a pig. Carrying you over here almost broke my back.” The words died in my throat. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. Every ounce of warmth vanished. I looked down, the shame and hurt clogging my chest. “This is a recovery room. Keep it down.” A cold voice sounded from the doorway. I looked up to see the guy from the abandoned dance studio. “If you’re done talking, please leave. The patient needs rest.” Zach scowled, stood up, and stormed out. The room fell quiet. The guy walked over, his expression softening slightly. “Your blood sugar crashed. Have you been starving yourself?” I hung my head. “I’m trying to lose weight.” I braced myself for him to mock my size too. Instead, he looked at me with intense sincerity. “If a dancer can’t appreciate her own body, she will never be able to dance from the heart.” I stared at him, stunned. He pulled out his phone and quickly typed something. “This is a healthy meal plan. You need to eat three times a day. Protein and carbs for breakfast, a normal lunch, and fewer carbs for dinner—but do not starve yourself.” “You don’t get fit by starving. Dancing requires strength.” My eyes stung with unshed tears. “Thank you.” “Also, I saw you practicing alone the other day.” He paused, his gaze locking onto mine. “If you want, I can be your partner.”
My eyes widened. “You dance?” “I can handle a simple duet,” he said casually. I hesitated for a second before nodding. At this point, I had nothing left to lose. His name was Julian Brooks. The moment he stood beside me and placed his hand on my waist, I went rigid. His posture was flawless. Even more shocking was his incredible sense of rhythm. Without any prior practice, he fell perfectly in step with my movements. When we reached the lift, I instinctively tensed up. Whenever I danced with Zach, he would groan, roll his eyes, and complain about how heavy I was. Over time, I had developed a terrible habit of shrinking myself during lifts, terrified of being a burden. But Julian’s hands were steady and firm against my waist. “Open your body. Let yourself fly,” he commanded. “I… I’m worried I’m too heavy,” I admitted, embarrassed. He let out a soft chuckle. “If a male dancer can’t lift a 152-pound partner, he has no business being on stage.” I froze, looking up into his eyes. There was no judgment, no annoyance—only a calm, reassuring certainty. I took a deep breath, fully arched my back, and leaped. He caught me effortlessly. In that single moment, our coordination felt so natural, it was as if we had been dancing together our whole lives. For the next month, I followed Julian’s healthy nutrition guide while secretly practicing the duet with him in the abandoned studio after hours. Soon, the day of the Annual Showcase arrived. The auditorium was packed. The Juilliard representatives sat front and center in the VIP section. When I walked into the backstage dressing room, everyone was frantically doing their makeup. Seeing me, Zach scoffed. “What are you doing here?” Before I could answer, the Head of the Dance Department, Dean Vance, walked in. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Chloe Miller! Make us proud out there tonight.” Ms. Gable quickly stepped in. “Dean Vance, actually… Chloe isn’t performing tonight.” The Dean’s smile vanished. “Not performing?” she asked, incredulous. “She’s the top dancer in her year. Why isn’t she on stage?” Ms. Gable explained awkwardly, “Her partner requested a change. Since it’s a duet and she doesn’t have a partner, she had to be pulled.” Dean Vance’s face darkened instantly. She glared at Zach, who was standing nearby. “You’re Miller’s partner, right? You two have worked together for six years. How could you pull a stunt like this right before the showcase?” Zach crossed his arms, looking completely arrogant. “Dean Vance, partnership is a choice. There’s no rule saying I have to be tied to her forever.” “I found a better partner, and I have the right to choose who I perform with. No one can force me.” Dean Vance was red with anger. Just then, the announcer’s voice echoed from the stage: “Next up, our final performance of the night—’Chasing Light’.” Zach smirked at me. “Since the program is set, you’re extra weight, Miller. If you want to perform so badly, go find your own guy.” He leaned in, whispering maliciously, “But since you can’t, get out of the way. Don’t ruin our show.” The other dancers backstage whispered and stared. My throat tightened, and I bit my lip to keep from crying under the weight of their judgment. “Thank you, Dean Vance. The show is starting, I should go,” I whispered, my legs trembling as I turned to leave. “Wait.” A calm, commanding voice sliced through the chatter. Julian stepped out from the crowd, walking straight toward me. He looked at me, a soft smile playing on his lips, and extended his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be your partner.”
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