"Now we will be able to hear everything and see everything. There are cameras all throughout the dance studio. You will be able to hear me talking to you. The only people who know what is going on our us, your parents, Abby, and the other dance teachers. You will not tell anyone, especially the moms. You want to make friends with all of them, even the younger ones. You listen to Abby. You dance with them. You do everything you are told. Understand Andrea?" The producer of Dance Moms asked me.
I nodded my head once, understanding the situation I am in. I am not to tell anyone. I am to listen to everyone. I am to do as I am told. I am not suppose to chicken out. I am to become friends with the girls. I am to be on the moms' good sides. I am to follow directions. I am going to try my best. I will try my best to dance and do all the moves without showing difficulty. I am to be perfect. I am to shine as bright as the rest of the girls but not so bright that they hate me.
"Now you will be hanging out with them at almost all times. I know that you can't dance yet but we have to get this going and you are the perfect girl for it. We don't have time and money to stick you in a different studio and to have you work for days. What's going to happen is, you will walk in there. Head held high. You will go through the test they do, after everyone gets back from spring break. You will do your best and try to make them like you. After, you will go into the studio with them. You will sit and do the pyramid. You are going to tell Abby that you would like to sit out and watch the first day. She will say it is okay, saying that you are from a different studio and want to know what you should be able to do. Then, you will have your private lesson which is where she will start from the basics with you. You have a softball game tonight right?"
I nod my head once, processing the information. I am to sit out. I am to watch. I am to be patient. I am to stay on their good side. I am to do my best.
"Great. Your dad will record that game, and I would like you to plan with you team an injury. It won't last long, just until the competition passes. You will be sliding into second when it happens. I don't care if you practice, just make sure the girls don't find out. That means leaving your boot and using crutches. Abby will tell you, even when you just have the wrap, not to do anything because she doesn't want you to get hurt. You are one of her best dancers. You will be getting a list of what you can eat for each meal and will be working out every single day. We want you to look like these girls, even if it means getting you down to being as thin as a sheet of paper. Your new name is now Taylor. Taylor Andrea Alamia. You are related to Madison William Alamia of the ICONic Boyz. You are his cousin. We talked to his mom about it." She kept talking.
I nodded and the makeup artist put the finishing touches on my face. I stood up, in my halter top and shorts. I looked like a hip hop dancer, a style of dance I know but the girls don't. I looked at myself in the mirror then my 'mom' tapped my shoulder. My fake mom. She has dark brown hair, just like mine. Blue sparkling contacts. She walks with pride and is very stylish. They gave her an expensive look, even though I know they just went to target for her clothes. She looked like a perfect stay at home mom just like Carol Brady. I plugged my ear buds into my phone and put them in my ear. I turned up Radioactive by Imagine Dragons and did a little hop. My stage mom and I got into the SUV that was parked behind the RV we were working in. I got in, and my stage mom drove about a mile. When we finally got to the dance center, I got out, restarted my song, and walked in with the look of pride on my face.
"Hello, Welcome to Abby Lee Dance Company. You must be Taylor Alamia. You will be in studio 5. Your mom can head up the stairs and you can place your bag in the cubby with your name on it. We look forward to having you dance with us," The receptionist winked, meaning she was in on the mission.
I walked into a smaller room off of the studio where there was a set of stairs. Marlene Alamia, my stage mom, went up the stairs after giving me a fake hug and whispering good luck. I made sure to wish her luck too. I put my bag into a cubby and hung my jacket on a hook. It felt a lot like elementary school. I sat on the bench set out and started to talk off my shoes and socks. I looked around me, noticing that everyone was ready. I put my shoes under my jacket and checked my hair with my phone. Perfect. Everything is going as planned.
"How was everyone's break!" A young lady, about 20, asked us as she entered the room.
The replies where rather usual, saying how good it feels to be back, and things about the trips they took. I didn't reply, mine was filled with school work since it was the week before break, learning lines, and practicing on my actions. No time for dance. I had to diet, work out, and do school work. Then over the weekend I was flown out to Pittsburg with my dad while my mom and sister drove out to my grandparents who live only an hour away. They got to spend time visiting my family that lived on the outskirts of Pittsburg while I spent it picking out clothes at the store with the stylist and spending my time at the hotel that I have to stay in.
"Now we are going to measure your flexibility like always and then we will head in and start conditioning," The lady said.
Oh no, was all I thought. I can't do conditioning. I can only do 11 push ups that weren't even right. I also can't do proper curl ups. I can't do anything along gymnastics other then a round off and summersault. I got up, being next in line for flexibility. I am okay at this. I can do this. I sat down, one leg in the other out and stretched. My fingertips pushed the bar to the 15 inch mark. I smiled to myself and did the other leg. It reached the 14 inch mark. The woman wrote that down and dismissed me. I walked into the studio.
"Welcome back everybody!" Abby greeted us, "Now lets get to the pyramid."
I looked around me at the six girls who all looked like they had ants in their pants, they all looked at the top spot hoping their picture was underneath the paper that covered the face. No one glanced at me, no one looked in my direction.
"Now we have a new student, her name is Taylor Alamia. She will be working with us. She is mainly into hip hop so we will be working with some hip hop. She studied with her cousin Madison Alamia at ICON Dance Complex, one of the top dance studios in the United States. Her cousin was runner up for America's Best Dance Crew and her instructor was the winner of the first season. She will be our secret weapon for when we dance against Candy Apples. She is going to sit out this class. Now onto the pyramid," Abby went on and on talking. I didn't pay attention, the order wouldn't effect me at all.
"Now start conditioning. I have to talk to Taylor about how we do things here," Abby told the girls.
She brought me out and into the hallway. She pretended to talk to me, and I didn't care that much. Then we walked in and I sat on the ground, watching that girls go to work. I watched as Miss Abby put together the dance. I watched them spin and twirl and jump all over the floors.
"Class dismissed!" Miss Abby said.
The girls walked out and I stayed in the room. We waited until all the moms were gone except Marlene. I looked at Miss Abby and started stretching. I had to warm up and get lose. I have to ace this mission. I have to be perfect. I have to be clean. I am going to have to get her. I cringed at the thought about getting hurt on purpose. I am going to get through this. I will do my best. I will be the best.