Dance: a series of movements that match the speed and rhythm of a piece of music.

This is the definition given to you if you were to look up the simple word, but we all know that deep down inside, it is so much more than that. Dance is liquid-like movements, the swaying and rocking of randomized shore lines at dawn. Dance is like poetry being spoken through each and every simple twist of an ankle, or wrist, while a piano’s ivory keys twinkle along. Dance is like the hidden language of the soul; you don’t need words to conduct such emotion. You can express them fully with graceful and elegant, or heated and pointed, or bubbly and whimsical movements.

Nothing is ever as simple as the given definition.

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Spinning around. No, I’m turning, not spinning.

Eyes set to one spot.

Spot. Just keep my spot.

Breathe and keep my spot. What count am I on again?

Oh. Count four, now five, six, seven, eight.

And again.

“Good, Moonbin! That’s beautiful. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight!” My instructor, Mrs. Lee, claps her aging hands along to the pointed beats of the recorded piano as I continue each turn, moving my arms swiftly in and out to aid my balance and momentum. “Now get ready for the jump out. Okay, one, two, three, now.”

I bring my bent supporting leg out into a perfect line and use my other leg to give myself the push off I need to send myself into the air for just a fleeting second- A second that gives my entire body chills, running deep and trickling through every inch, and cutting into my nerves.- before landing back down on one knee and posing into a solid form.

My breathing is extremely unstable from the back to back runs of the same dance and I can feel the rolling beads of sweat dripping into unwanted crevices, while the smell of the humid room fogs my swimming mind.

I hear Mrs. Lee clap a few more times. “Okay, that’s good for today.” I breath a long sigh and fall out of my knelt position, landing on the cold dance floor in a tired, starfish-looking heap. “So, you should be receiving the results from Seoul Arts anytime now, I presume?” She asks lightly from across the room where she is turning off the old sound equipment.

Expanding and stretching out my sweaty arms, I nod my head in earnest, remembering the prestigious school auditions that were held two months ago. “I hope so, I’m ready to get out of this tiny as hell town.”

She lets out a boisterous laugh and continues packing various papers and notebooks filled with dance routines and formations.

“A different view would be a nice change…” I whisper out, quiet enough for only my ears.

“I’m going to head out now, get some rest and ice your feet when you get home.” She walks towards the door. “Oh, and make sure to turn the lights off. Don’t forget this time! The electricity bill is already bad as it is!” She yells back at me, already down the hallway and out of view.

After a few beats of silence I lift my aching body from the floor to stand and walk over to my worn duffle bag. I reach down to take off my tattered ballet shoes, a pair that have definitely seen better days, and place the shoes inside the bag. My bruised and blistered feet are blooming with intricate blues and purples, and some older yellow and browns; the tones blend in with my naturally milky skin.

I let out a humorless laugh because the colors themselves, ironically, look beautiful, but hurt so damn much.

She’s right about soaking them in ice. I tenderly sink myself back down on the floor and give my feet a short message, in attempt to relieve some of the strained muscles and taut ligaments around my legs as well.

With one hand still gently clasped around my left foot, I begin digging in the duffel for my phone. Clicking the screen alive, I read the time; 7:26 PM.

“, my bus!” I quickly yank on my gray sweatpants- that were strewn across my bag- over my tights and grab my hand-me-down sweater off the floor, pulling the scratchy fabric over my sweat-drenched forehead. I then toss my phone into the duffle and sprint towards the doorway, where my sneakers lay haphazardly.

After tying the laces together I bolt out of the studio and jog down the street towards the bus stop, tired and achy body be damned. I make it to the stop with the bus just down the road and with a sigh of relief, I place my hands on my knees and begin to even out my heavy breaths. I watch as my heated and scattered breaths turn to a cloud, similar to fog, due to the chilled September night weather.

The bus ride home is the same as always.

The night sky and stars are already out, allowing the street lights along the road and sidewalks to dimly light the used pathways. I listen to a mixture of classical pieces and some tranquil artists through my older brother’s headphones he got with his recently bought cellphone. He told me he’d never use them anyways and said “since your current ones are pretty ty” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that these are probably just as bad, but beggars can’t be choosers. Plus, one of the plugs didn’t even work anymore on my previous pair, so I guess it’s not a bad trade.

●●

“Moonbin, you’re late.” Mom’s unimpressed voice is the first thing I am greeted with the moment I step through the front door, along with the intoxicating smell of freshly cooked dinner.

I place my duffel onto the hardwood flooring with a satisfying thunk and toe off my sneakers in the process. My parents, especially my mom, are never happy when I come home late, but what’s a guy supposed to do when he begs for an extra lesson… for the third time this week?

My cheeks puff out as I take in a deep breath and hold the air for just a second; trying to calm down my breathing. Once the warm air is released through my nose, I begin to walk into the small dining room where both my parents, my younger twin sisters, and my older brother and sister, are already sat at the table, food currently being plated and conversations already in mid swing.

The only empty seat is beside my brother, Hanjae, who immediately begins to watch my every move with a knowing look. I brush off the weird looks and sit down.

“Sorry for being late, I stayed for an extra lesson.” I give the excuse while picking up my metal chopsticks and tap them onto to the table, allowing them to reposition correctly. “Mrs. Lee was helping me with a new piece that I choreographed-”

“Mom! Please? The new episode is on!” Jisu, one of the twins, askes while attempting to stand from her seat.

“Jisu! Mina! Sit down and finish your dinner. You can watch your show after we eat.” I look back down at my metal chopsticks and think to myself, typical.

“Sorry, what were you saying sweetie?” Mom asks exhaustively.

Without looking up I shake my head a little, raven bangs falling dangerously close to my eyes in a wavy mess. “Oh, um, nothing.”

I help myself to the food, placing a generous amount onto my waiting plate and my mouth waters at the mere thought of the savory dishes in front of me. I hear my father clear his throat and begin to start a conversation with my older sister.

“Sejun, how was work today?” He asks lightly.

“The stocks are charting, but...”

I continue to simultaneously stuff a bit of kimchi and rice in my mouth and ignore the boring topic that is my sister’s job. A financial writer.

Like I said, boring.

Though my brother’s job is not any more fascinating than hers. He is a nurse and is currently going back to college for more schooling, wanting to become a nurse practitioner. It may not sound as stodgy, but according to him, the hospital scene is not how it’s portrayed in the dramas that house wives and stay at home dads watch mid-day.

“Hey, you got a parcel in the mail today.” I look towards the older male with lifted eyebrows and suspicious eyes. He gives me a knowing smirk and lets out a sarcastic sigh while continuing to pile more food onto his plate. “Something from Seoul, but it’s probably nothing.”

I stop chewing. He then looks back up at me slowly.

The sound of my clattering utensils and my chair scraping across the wooden flooring is loud enough for everyone to halt their conversations. Rumbling stomach long forgotten, my heart is currently racing and pounding hard as if I just finished three continuous run throughs of The Russian Dance from The Nutcracker- which I have done many times for the Christmas recital I’ve been in for 6 years now.

“Moonbin, honestly? At least wait until we’re done with dinner.” I continue to go back to the front door, where a small side table stands, holding all the mail and keys. “I swear, you’re just as bad as your sisters.” I hear Mom’s voice tiredly say, so I end up just making sure the parcel is what I think it is and then promptly head back to the dinner table, a wide and nervous smile now plastered on my face.

Seoul Arts Academy of Dance, is printed on the front, in a generic font with sleek black ink.

●●

“Dear Moonbin, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Seoul Arts Academy of Dance, and will start as of September 25th, in the main coarse of Classical Ballet and an understudy of Lyrical. Inside the given package is your schedule, room key, borading details, and a list of needed supplies…”

The letter continues on to inform me about the ever growing list of leotards, tights, and extremely specific dance shoes that I’ll have to spend most- if not all- of my money on. I’m just thankful for all the hours I picked up at the local supermarket.

I drop my arm heavily beside me, letter still in hand, as I lay staring up at the ceiling. My eyes slip shut, partially out of exhaustion and the other half from disbelief.

The chances of being accepted into the prestigious school is 1 in 1,000. That’s a 0.10% chance of being enrolled into the school of my dreams and I made it. My academic grades aren't the best and I have a horrible eating and sleeping regimen, so my audition must have really struck a chord with them.

A tiny sigh escapes my lips and I roll over to place the letter down on my bedside table and turn off my lamp in the process.

That night I lay for what feels like hours thinking of just how and the world I managed to get into the damned school.

●●

“Okay, so you have your bus ticket?” Mom’s nervous voice cuts through the crisp night wind.

It’s been about three weeks since I received the miraculous letter from the the school of my dreams. Which leads me to the situation I’m currently facing right now.

My parents and I are all waiting at a bus station with a handful of other travelers, who are all spread out and waiting more patiently then my anxious parents. My brother and sisters would have come, but my bus ride is scheduled for around seven in the evening. The twins need to be in bed by that time and my older sister lives on the other side of town, working late shifts- she’s lucky enough to have dinner with us every so often- and finally my older brother is bestowed with the honor of taking care of the younger two in the absence of our parents.

I turn back around, facing my mom and nod in affirmation to her previous question.

“The ride is going to be pretty long, about four and a half hours.” Her red lips purse in thought. “You might just want to sleep on the way there.”

I let out a sigh and shrug my slipping duffle back up on my shoulder.

“You’ll probably arrive around eleven-”

“Due to unexpected delays bus numbers 2193 and 2832 will be arriving late. Again, due to-”

“Isn't that your bus number?” My dad’s quiet voice cuts through the chilled night air.

“Unfortunately.” I give him a tight smile. “You guys can go ahead and drive back home if you want. I know how tired you two are-”

“And miss our third-born going off and leaving for Seoul?” Mom attacks me with a tight hug and causes me to drop my duffle while pulling me down to half my height to reach her shorter stature  “I don’t think so!”

I roll my eyes at the sudden embrace. “Mom okay, you’re suffocating me!”

It’s around eight by the time the bus is ready for departure and my parents make an even bigger fuss over our goodbyes. I promise the both of them that I will call as soon as I was inside my dorm room and give a final wave as I board.

The next chapter should be out soon! Please leave some comments telling me what you think so far!