Andrea and the 5-Day Challenge by Cindy K. Green Page B

until Dad brought up the subject I was sick and tired of hearing about. I’d just finished the last of my dinner, and was looking forward to the cream cheese frosted brownie bites that Mom had just brought out from the kitchen.
    “How’s the practicing going?” asked Dad. “Only three days before the recital.”
    I sighed loudly. “I can’t wait.” Yeah, it had sounded sarcastic and Dad hated sarcasm…well, if he feels it has been used at his expense.
    He set his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Andrea, I hear you’ve been a little tense over the recital.”
    I glanced at Mom. She had a straight smile on her face and no real emotion in her eyes. It was the expression I imagine she would have used when litigating before a judge. However, at the moment, I would have preferred some compassion. I wonder how much she’d told Dad.
    “Yeah, I guess I am a little tense. A lot weighs in the balance. I mean, it’s all I’ve heard for the last month. Now on top of that I have to wow the reps from the performing arts school.”
    “And getting into that school, and possibly Julliard, is what you’ve been working towards for the last ten years.”
    “No, Dad, it’s what you’ve been working for.” I couldn’t believe I was actually vocalizing my feelings to my father. And it seemed that once the water overran the dam it was pretty hard to stop it up again. “I don’t know what I really want. Sure, I love the piano, but get real. I am not going to be the best of the best. Even Colleen Deveroux is better than me and she’s only eleven. She’ll probably be a smash on Saturday, and I’ll just have to suffer through my last two years at Aubrey.”
    Dad scrunched his large eyebrows together. “Andi, if you would just focus…”
    Hearing the word, focus, was the last straw in my delicate mental state. I snapped. “Focus? I’m sick and tired of hearing how I need to focus.” I stood up and tossed my napkin on the table to make my point. “I’ve been focused on piano since I was six years old and what have I gotten in return? Sore fingers and a ridiculous social life. Correction, no social life.”
    “Andrea,” said my mother with wonder in her voice. “Where is this coming from? You have a social life and lots of friends.”
    “Sure and we’re a bunch of freaks—the lot of us.” OK, not Alisha, but I felt that would not help my argument. I couldn’t face them a moment longer as I took off for the stairs and the refuge of my bedroom. The further I made it up the staircase, the angrier I became especially when I realized I’d missed dessert.
    I flipped on the TV, but not even reruns of my favorite shows could do it for me. Time for my favorite DVD as I reclined on my bed. It’s not like I could have concentrated on anything else. I needed some mindless diversion, and, seriously, Sleeping Beauty is one of the most romantic films ever with the prince who can dance. Thoughts of dancing and princes were much more preferred than realizing I had acted like a total child with my parents. Right now they were probably wondering what was going on with me.
    I squeezed my eyes closed feeling convicted about how horrible I’d been. Lord, what am I doing? I don’t know what came over me just now. I guess maybe I’ve wanted to express those things to my parents, but I suppose I could have done it in a better way like in a note, or a song, perhaps even a mime routine. I’ve asked before, but I need to ask again. Help me, Lord! I seriously can’t do this on my own because when I do, look at the mess I create.
    The movie credits began and the theme song started, which somehow relaxed me. From my bedside table, I took out a box of cookies and plopped one in my mouth. Sure, I know it’s kinda weird at my age to enjoy a cartoon as much as I did Sleeping Beauty . I mean, I could never tell Amy that this is my favorite movie or that an animated prince is the man of my dreams. Still, my heart does that