The hall was as silent as a graveyard immediately after Abigail finished dancing, and it was the opposite of what had happened to the previous dancers. The students who came to watch the Theatre and Art weekend performance had clapped and screamed to appreciate every performer until it got to Abigail's turn.
I paused to look around to be sure I wasn't alone in the hall, and the noise that erupted in the blink of an eye almost gave me a heart attack.
"Why did everyone go quiet before?" I pondered as I joined the other students in applauding Abigail. My bestie was smiling like a baby, and I could feel the happiness in her heart.
"Did you notice that everyone went quiet after your dance?" I asked Abigail immediately after we met outside.
"Yes, I did. My heart skipped initially, and I thought I had messed up again," she replied.
"You did great and have improved a lot. I am so proud of you," I replied to Abigail, and we both left her department activity hall.
I and Abigail met during our matriculation. She has a beautiful soul, and it won't take you 24 hours to realize the kindness radiating all over her.
We became friends in the twinkle of an eye, and many of our friends thought that we had known each other outside the school premises. We love each other dearly and always look out for ourselves, even when we return home for the holidays.
I have always known myself to be a terrible dancer, and it's hard to find me dancing outside. I dance, though, but it ends with just moving my body left and right as gently as possible. Abigail, on the other hand, is another terrible dancer, but she doesn't hide those terrible moves; she would dance anywhere and anytime as long as the music was good.
"Dancing isn't your calling, girl; just give up. Stop embarrassing yourself," I said to Abigail during a hangout after we finished our 200-level examination, and she was pissed.
Abigail refused to speak to me for weeks, and I wish I hadn't said such.
I tried apologizing, but she didn't give me a chance because she felt offended. I involved some of our friends, and she couldn't say no to everyone.
She eventually forgave me, and we returned to our old ways.
"Why do you love dancing that much?" I ask Abigail because I am not the only one who has told her to let go of her wish to be a professional dancer.
"Are you here to trash my passion again?" She asked.
"No, it's not like that. I just like how you handle criticism, and you don't let it stop you from doing what you love," I replied.
"I loved dancing as a child, but it wasn't just my thing, no matter how I tried. My siblings barely put effort into it, and they are good at it, so I made up my mind that if I don't stop trying, I will become good at it someday. Now you know why I can't stop dancing," Abigail replied.
I felt jealous of her at that moment because I have abandoned things I love since people think that I am not good at them, but it was a different thing for Abigail. Every negativity people shot at her was just like water off a duck's back, and it didn't make her stop what she was passionate about.
Nothing will make her stop attending her dance class, and I became a huge fan of her imperfection. I would attend every performance she had, on and off campus. Being consistent and intentional helped Abigail improve, and I saw the growth coming bit by bit until she became a better dancer.
We wrote our final exams together, and during the sign-out ceremony, Abigail blessed us with her dance steps. I watched people chant her name because they knew when she was a terrible dancer, and the changes were huge enough to be noticed.
