MidReal Story

Dance With Me

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Scenario:Dance moms the Abby Lee dance Company Emily is the daughter of Melissa

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Dance moms the Abby Lee dance Company Emily is the daughter of Melissa

Blonde hair, a tiny little girl and a pink leotard and five years old

Blonde hair, pink top white jacket, and black leggings, sunglasses on the top of her head and a adult

I am a mom on dance moms the Abby Lee dance company.

My name is Melissa and I am a widow.

I have one daughter named Emily, she is five years old and has blonde hair.

Emily loves to dance and has been dancing since she was two years old.

She is very good and I enroll her in the Abby Lee Dance Company.

I know Miss Abby Lee is very strict but I think it will be good for Emily.

I get ready for our first day of class, I put my blonde hair in a high ponytail and slip on a pink top, white jacket, and black leggings.

I grab my sunglasses and put them on the top of my head.

I look great if I do say so myself.

I finish getting ready and call out to Emily, "Come on sweetie we need to leave."

Emily comes running out of her bedroom wearing a tiny pink leotard with her blonde hair in two high pig tails.

She looks so cute and I can not help but kiss her on the cheek.

"Mommy stop," she says giggling.

I grab our bags and hold Emily’s hand as we walk out the door.

We arrive at the studio and I watch as Emily does her first solo rehearsal with Miss Abby.

The other mothers are all whispering and pointing as Miss Abby shouts corrections at Emily.

Emily keeps missing the turns and she keeps messing up the routine.

Her face is getting redder and redder with each mistake.

I can see her small shoulders shaking as she tries to hold back her tears.

When she messes up for the third time, Miss Abby slams her hand down on the stereo and yells, "That's enough! You're not competition ready!"

Emily freezes in the middle of the studio, tears welling up in her eyes.

I step forward, determined to remind Emily that she is more than ready for anything.

I push through the studio door, ignoring the other moms' stares as I cross the wooden floor to Emily.

She stands rooted in place, her tiny hands trembling at her sides, pink leotard damp with sweat.

Miss Abby watches from her chair, arms crossed, as I approach my daughter.

Emily's bottom lip quivers when I kneel beside her, and she immediately presses her face into my shoulder, her small body shaking with silent sobs.

The other dancers continue their routines around us, the sound of their feet hitting the floor mixing with the quiet sniffles coming from Emily.