Candice Brown

Candice Brown was her name. At twenty years old, she was already a total professional in the world of ballet. Unreachable, a role model, and possessing a suffocating personality. She already had several suitors who approached to court her, but always without success, leaving many hearts disappointed and sad.

Candice was demanding, always asking, always commanding with authority. This caused several of those suitors to give up. But the bravest ones pressed on. They took her to the theater, to the park; she flaunted her personality.

"To the theater? Are you serious?" she would mock when she received an invitation. "I am the theater! People pay to see me dance."

She laughed at them. Why waste time strolling or visiting parks if she could keep rehearsing, practicing for the next audition, or trying on dresses?

But one of those suitors would not surrender. Oscar was already an established actor. Twenty-seven years old, an heir, talented, and with a stable future. He saw Candice performing as Princess Aurora. Her style of dancing was impeccable. Her elegance and expressions made him want to know her.

Candice allowed him to get close and gave him her time. They both spoke of various common interests: rehearsals, costumes, and those rookies who craved a leading role.

"The rookies are so stupid," Candice laughed, remembering how, two days ago, one had approached her. "They think they can reach my level. One cried because she was the one who wanted to be Aurora. Can you imagine? A rookie having the lead role! Pathetic!"

"Come now, Candice," Oscar tried to say with a certain calmness. "Everyone gets an opportunity. You had yours."

Candice looked at him with pity. To her, a rookie having an opportunity was dangerous. If one of those young women managed to land even a significant role, they would be considering her as a replacement. And she wasn't going to let that happen.

"You wouldn't let it happen?" Oscar asked curiously. It was clear in his eyes that he wouldn't give up easily. "My family is already demanding a wife and a family."

Candice stopped. It wasn't the first time the idea of a family had been presented to her. She always knew how to reject proposals with elegance, but she didn't understand why it was different with Oscar. That Friday, the park was full of families—children running around, worrying about nothing but their games.
For some reason, it repulsed her.

"No... I mean, no," Candice said firmly. "I wasn't born to be anyone's mother."

"But what are you saying?" Oscar tried to calm Candice. She looked nervous; she was trembling. "Be realistic. What will happen if they replace you? If you get injured? The day will come when you can no longer dance. What will you do then?"

“Poor unfortunate soul! That won’t happen,” Candice defended herself. She was offended by her suitor's words. "I will keep dancing!"

That afternoon, Candice returned home where her mother was waiting. Her mother told her that auditions for The Nutcracker would soon take place and that she must have one of the leads. She warned her that she would have to be very careful.

"Why?" Candice said. She was hungry, but she ignored it. She went to look at herself in the mirror and fixed her hair. "I can get the lead character."

"The lead character will be for a child, Candi," her mother explained. Candice turned to look at her, incredulous. "If you don't pay attention, it will be your ruin."

Candice stopped doing her hair and turned to face her mother. She couldn't believe she was facing that dreaded competition. Nervously, she began to bite her nails while thinking about what to do. If she couldn't have the lead role, she would have to take a secondary one—one that had more scenes.

"Stop ruining your nails!" her mother shouted as she approached Candice. "Focus on not losing and on gaining prestige. Is that clear?"

Candice lowered her gaze and nodded. The next day, the audition for The Nutcracker was confirmed. Voices, murmurs, gossip. The rookies were the first to audition and dance for the roles of Fritz and Clara. The atmosphere felt incredibly heavy. Everyone was nervous, everyone wanted a main role, as always, but this time was different.

The first audition, for the character of Clara, began. The music played, and the lights focused on each of the participants. Some just stood still, paralyzed. Others fell or tripped; their feet and legs did not obey correctly. There were tears, shouts from some parents, and mocking from the older dancers.

The day continued with auditions for Fritz, the Nutcracker, and, finally, Drosselmeier. The ballet director dismissed the rest of the team for the following day. The remaining dancers looked at each other, conspiring about what they could do to win a starring role.

"I’ll make sure I win the role of the Mouse King!" someone shouted with euphoria. "I must. I need that role."

Among the women, the talk was about who would get the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy, one of the most important in the story. Aside from those two, everything else would be worthless.

Candice listened. One of the dancers had gone abroad and managed to see the ballet with the original cast. She mentioned she had managed to see Tchaikovsky.

"If only I could see the future..." Candice whispered while she changed.

She turned to look at the new mirror the dancers had in the dressing room. A large, full-length oval mirror whose frame was plated in gold, reflecting the light of the lamp.

"Seeing the future could be wonderful," her companion commented. "But not even the best seers have been able to help me. So rest and get ready. Tomorrow will be unforgettable."

The woman left, leaving Candice alone. The room seemed to grow larger once she was by herself. The objects appeared strange to her. Her breathing became shallow and she panted. She didn't like being alone.

It made her feel vulnerable, weak, and for some reason, she felt that someone was always hidden, watching her. She stood up with erratic movements, far from her onstage elegance, and searched for that someone behind the curtains.

Nothing. Not even a sound. She had to hurry if she wanted to find someone—her mother, the other dancers, anyone who, by looking at her, would confirm that Candice Brown was still real.