one day in the life of dean

HONK! HONK! HONK!

Dean glanced at his clock. Late again?! Struggling to pull on his sneakers and grab his breakfast bar, Dean bolted out of his apartment and straight into the car apologizing to the impatient Salisha.

“You are late like everyday!” Salisha retorted as they sped off. Their car was pumping the newest Nelly track on their way to yet another dance practice.

“Home sweet home!” Dean sarcastically said as they unloaded their gear from the car. The ten-minute car ride had been the usual: Salisha going off about her newest boy trouble – this time with a new guy from a rival dance team. Drama! But now, it was time to focus: Mark was freaking out about the performance coming up, and he did not look happy.

The usual warm up was ready for the dancers the minute they walked into the gym: trampolines were out, weights were ready, and yoga mats were all lined up. Predictably, the other guys went straight to the weights in hopes of showing off to the “ladies,” while Dean made his way to the yoga mats. A little stretching before dancing never hurt a guy’s reputation, and plus it helped with the tricks. After about forty-five minutes of warm up, a routine check-up was called. All twelve members of the dance team were to perform their newest routine perfectly until Mark was going to give them a water break. Great!

After four tries, (it always takes Keisha a little longer than everyone else) water break was called. As usual, break seemed to go by in thirty seconds and practice began yet again. Time for tricks: Dean’s favorite part. Although he was the youngest in the crew, he liked to think of himself as the expert at tricks. Apparently that was the only reason he got asked to join in the first place.

They began with some simple flips and slowly, but surely, graduated to the higher tricks. Dean flawlessly preformed each one with grace and ease as if there were nothing to it, Mark, as always, watched in awe as he marveled the newest member of the crew. A couple more hours of practice went by quickly and it was suddenly time for lunch.

Dean quickly grabbed his bag and ran to the bus stop. Glancing at his watch, he started sprinting, and got to the bus right as it was about to leave. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean got on and mechanically walked to his normal seat, his stop was the third one away, so he need not go too far. As the bus pulled up to the huge, gray, concrete building, Dean felt queasy as always. One would think that after five months of coming to the jail everyday, you would get used to it, but Dean never did.

He flashed his visitor’s badge to the guard and headed straight to the visitor’s room to talk to his dad. Thankfully, the two of them passed the awkward “it’s weird to talk to each other when we are sitting in a jail” stage, so they got right to chatting about Dean’s latest problems and the dance crew. The 85 minutes seem to pass to quickly as Dean had to say goodbye to his dad, and wait for tomorrow to see him again. The bus brought him back to dance practice, and as always the last couple hours went by in a blur as they were learning a new routine.

The car ride back to his apartment was quiet with both Salisha and Dean tired from yet another rough practice. Dean slowly walked up to his apartment, took a shower, ate his dinner, and collapsed on his bed.

When his dad went to jail, he had two options: live with his aunt and uncle in Iowa, or get his own apartment and join Mike’s dance crew. As he sat there on his bed, Dean told himself he made the right decision. Everyday there was a constant battle inside his head questioning if he had taken the right road to independence, but when the day ended, it became apparent: this is where he belonged. (691)