we were born to run, totally open.

[ema lee quinn]

i love the dream i'm in
i hope it lasts a million years

So Ema had been there for a while, so? So what? Maybe she had been there since six that morning and it was already... five in the afternoon. And maybe she hadn't stopped to eat yet. And maybe she was completely alone in the biggest room she'd ever been in surrounded by tons of mirror images of herself that seemed to scream "You don't need to do it again! It's perfect. The routine is perfect. Do I need to spell it, cos trust me I will. It's not that hard to understand, kid. This audition is in the bag. SO GO EAT SOMETHING BEFORE YOU KEEL OVER FROM ABSOLUTE AND UTTER STUPIDITY." And Ema had to admit, the mirrors were beginning to make a heck of a lotta sense. I mean, when you start shaking from hunger it's probably time to quit, right? Unfortunately the word quit doesn't seem to exist in Emy's vocabulary.

Ema Lee stared at her reflection for a moment. She started at the feet, noticing her foot could be slightly more turned out while it was pointed softly in the back. Moving up, she scanned her burgundy tights, looking for any imperfections in her knees or muscles. And, Ema being Ema, there were none. Which put a bit of a smile on her face. Then to her waist, covered by a long electric green tank top. Lately she'd thrown away her leotards and just came in to class in tights and a tank top. It was more comfy, she said, like pajamas. Her waist was twisted to the right, as if she was trying as hard as she could to make the top half of her turn round to face her pointed toe. Slowly she moved higher, taking note that her white exercise bra was peeking above her shirt. And finally came her face. Her sweaty, tired, determined face. She scrunched her nose. She hated the way she looked when she was sweaty. The way her hair, which had been pulled up when she had started but had slowly began to fall to her shoulders, the pony tail holder lost in her brown waves forever... at least until she showered, had become knotted and frizzy, yet wet and greasy. The way her skin shone, but not in a pretty way more in a... well in a sweaty nasty way. And the way she just, in general, looked like a completely and total mess. Which, in reality, was exactly the way she felt at that moment.

By this point the girl couldn't even remember what she was auditioning for anymore. She just knew she wanted it more than anything else in the world... for some unknown reason, and would work as hard as she could to get it... whatever it was. Because that's the way she did things. She was determined, if not anywhere else at least in her dancing. She had slept in this room more than a few times, to be sure she could start practice again as soon as she woke up. She'd slapped more than a few of her partners here for being three minutes late. She'd laughed, she'd cried, she'd created some of the best memories she could think of in this very room. Take CarCar for example.

Ah, good ol' CarCar. That kid was probably the best thing that had ever happened to our Ema. He was absolute perfection in her eyes. Because, well, because he was so completely imperfect. It was beautiful. It was funny to think that after the crap they had put him through that first day that the two of them would end up... well end up in love.

It was the beginning of the year, and her and a group of girls decided they wanted real music for class that day. Real live music. So they decided they gonna run into school and just grab some random music kid and make them play. No matter the cost. Lucky for Car, he just so happened to be the closest one around. And he played piano, which definitely helped. So they pulled him, confused and clutsy, into the studio. It took him a few minutes to get his bearings but after that he smiled and gladly sat to play. Little did he know that for the next few hours he'd be yelled at by a bunch of girls that wanted it a bit slower or a bit faster or not so loud or a bit louder than that. Little did he know how long he'd be there. Little did he know that at some point Ema would jump on top of the piano and tell him he absolutely had to play the theme from Super Mario cos that would make him the coolest person in the world. Luckily he did get his payment. Dinner at a nice Italian place with the bunch of girls who had accidentally made the last few hours a living hell. The funny thing was, Ema ended up walking him home. And he ended up inviting her in. And she ended up staying till four in the morning watching movies. And they ended up dating. And well, it was good.

And to put it simply, that's the way Ema liked it. Good. But she wanted this routine to be better than good. Which was why, with a sigh, she began the steps again. Putting forth emotion and carefully watching each movement she made. Wishing someone was there to spot her and put the stupid music on at the right time. But, you can't always get what you want, can you?

she's wearing this