My eyes fix on the stage as I watch the gorgeous ballerina in pale blue tulle twirl and soar across its surface. Serena, with her tight red curls secured in a bun and her tall lithe figure practically made for ballet, is the epitome of perfection.

I stare longer, mesmerized by the way her body coils and springs as she glides across the stage. Though there is a male dancer alongside her, he pales in comparison to Serena. Everything about her, from her presence on the stage to her high trilling laugh offstage, is captivating. Serena Garrison is arguably the most stunning, most ethereal creature on this planet and for that, I hate her.

For a long time I thought I was in love with her. I would watch her from afar, doing her warmups at the barre or filling her water bottle at the fountain, and my heart would flutter in my chest. When I danced alongside her my feet would even lose all coordination as I stumbled to keep up with her, desperate to be worthy enough to dance alongside her.

But ever since two weeks ago, the night the roles for the show was released, I’ve felt nothing but hatred for her. Seeing her name-Serena Garrison- alongside the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy was humiliating. My mother, my grandmother, and even my great grandmother, had earned the role of Sugar Plum Fairy during their time in the company. Naturally, it was expected that I too would inherit the role.

But no, Serena just had to swoop into the city and join our company two weeks before auditions. She just had to blow everyone away with her grace and skill and steal the one thing I wanted most in this world.

My hands curl venomously around the papers in my hand, crunching and creasing the thin pages as she floats through the steps I was meant to be rehearsing.

This wasn’t fair, not at all.

I sigh silently and pull my gaze from the stage to stare at my lap. I straighten the program out in my hands and flip to the last page, where all the roles are assigned.

I let my finger slide down the page and when I find my name and my role, my finger digs into the page, my nail leaving behind a mark.

Celia Fitz………Sugar Plum Fairy Understudy

Understudy.

I am nothing but an understudy to the sun herself.

When the music cuts off and Serena finally leaves the stage for a water break, my gaze follows her departure through the upper left wing of fhe stage. Something hot and jealous spills through my veins and for just a moment, I think myself angry enough to kill her.

I rise from my chair in the third row and grab my water bottle abandoning my program. I silently stalk towards the door that leads to the backstage dressing rooms.

When I get outside Serena’s door I pause. What am I doing her? What is it that I am planning to say or do if she answers?

Finally, I decide to walk away. What could I do anyway? I was pathetic, quiet, and too non front atop all to say anything.

As I walk back towards my seat, the director call for everyone to return to their positions for a redo of the scene.

I know I should be going straight back to my seat.

I know I should just ignore this malicious feeling bubbling in my chest, but I can’t.

For a moment I lose control of my body and I blindly make my way to the upper left wing , the place where Serena enters the scene.

I feel a part of my mind trying to pry away the morbid thoughts that enter my mind, but I am so consumed by anger and envy that I ignore reason. I unscrew the cap of my water bottle and let it tip over slightly, splashing liquid on the stage. This, in the world of stage performance, is a terrible sin that I am performing.

The director instructs everyone to return to their places and I scuttle back to my seat, keeping my head low.

The moment I sit on the velvety red chairs, I second guess myself.

What did I just do? What if she gets seriously injured? Sure that means I get her spot in the show, but it also means I’ve just done the vilest of acts.

I wring my hands in my lap, chest beating hard and guilt weighing heavy on my mind. The lights dim and the music begins.

I see a flash of red hair as someone prepares to leap onto the stage from the wings.

But she never gets the chance to make her grand appearance.

I shut my eyes to ignore the sight, but I hear everything that occurs.

There’s a thunderous thud and the entire room holds their breath as the stage shakes. There’s a shriek.

A girl screams, her cry’s of pain filling the room.

Whispered voice ask her if she’s alright.

The tension in my chest dissipates slowly and a strange sense of glee flitters through my body.

Just like that all my dreams have come through. Balance has been restored and in 3 months, it’ll be me up on that stage in the role I was born to perform.

I pick up the program that I left abandoned on the floor and find my name once more. I use my finger to poke through one word in the program, effectively erasing it. I admire my work and smile down at it:

Celia Fitz…………Sugar Plum Fairy