I spent most of the night going over every mistake I made, reliving every flub and flounder. Maybe they threw money out of pity because I know it wasn’t for my talent and I felt ugly compared to other girls who had all the right moves and knew how to play the crowd. I wasn’t planning to give up or tell my parents how bad I felt I was. I needed to learn more.

“Can I install a pole in my room?”
“What?” Dad asked as he choked on a sip of coffee.
“A basic mental pole. It’s the new form of exercise.”
“Exercise? You’re kidding me, right?”
I shook my head and mom did too.
“A big metal pole?”
“Well, not huge, but for safety, it needs to be bolted to the floor and to a crossbeam and there’s one that goes across the middle of my room.”
Dad’s eyes looked exactly like when I allowed a TERF to rear-end his car, just to prove the world didn’t revolve around her. Dad didn’t take it well for a few days. “A pole? And what am I supposed to tell anyone who walks by and sees said pole?”
“I can keep my door closed at all times…we could also disguise it as a column when it’s not in use.”
“Eric?” Mom asked Dad as his eye twitched.
“It can be delivered by Amazon in a discrete box. No one has to know. I’ll install it.” I figured if I volunteered to do it all and not let Dad think too deeply into everything. Apparently, I was too late for that as he laid his head on the table.
“Will it help pay for school?”
“Yes, and it helps builds tone and stamina.”
“I may try it out too, dear,” Mom said, causing Dad to pound his head a few more times against the table.

I spent the afternoon working on a different routine, borrowing moves I saw the other girls perform, and trying to incorporate all of it without parroting them. Nothing was working for me. No fancy footwork, no jumps—absolutely no choreography was clicking into place.
“Can’t do what I did last night…or can I with a costume change?”
I glanced to the mirror and wondered if a wig would help me…perhaps something blond or maybe a hat I can toss off later in the routine? I had some hats…but which one?

I wished at that moment that I had a bff or just someone to give me some glam lessons. My parents would agree with any style I chose. I refused to ask my older siblings, both brothers, about what I should do, even though I was positive they had been in enough clubs to be able to teach me a few steps.

“There is someone,” I thought of as I threw every piece of clothing into my car that I thought could work. Then, I drove to “The Three Kittens” bookstore in the old downtown area. It was a small-time establishment that fought back against Barnes & Noble with a corner for poets and buskers, free WiFi, and better coffee than Starbucks. Natalie Strom, a girl in my graduating class who was voted most likely to succeed due to her college prospects and scholarships out the wazoo of a hippo, but two days after graduation she changed gears and decided to work at her aunt’s bookstore.
We weren’t exactly friends, per se, but she never gave me any grief and I in return never talked about her behind her back. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to break through too much ice as I was running out of time.

I walked into the store to a kind of crowded store. I bit my lip as maybe I would not hav enough time to explain the issue and to see if she could help me. Natalie was in the back end of the bookstore with a cart of books to return.
“Hi, Natalie,” I meekly said with a weak wave.
“Jamie, right?”
“Yes.”
“What can I help you with?”
“Well, I remember you had these terrific dresses, and you were on the dance team.”
“Not following you, but okay.”
“Alright, I really need your assistance with something.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m trying to be a dancer but I’m kind of having a problem with my routine.”
“Is some kind of musical or a play?”
“Kind of.”
“And you need to know about some kickin’ choreography?”
“Yes,” I replied with a triple head-bobble. “Can you help me?”
“I get off at seven today and tomorrow. When is your performance?”
“Tonight at 11:30.”
“Late night performance?”
“Yes.”
“Rocky Horror Picture Show?”
“It felt like that last night.”