Stella hated waiting.

But there were four others between her and the dance floor. She would not get her turn for some time yet.

In her mind, she relived the morning’s routine. It was better than looking ahead...

Step out. Step right. Step in. Step up. Step left—

“STELLA!”

The music cut out. The beat froze. Her heart kept pounding in her chest so hard she thought it might just break free and dance its way across the studio, right through the opaque second-floor window, and down the street, never to be seen or heard again. Even if it had done just that, Stella figured it wouldn’t make much difference to her anyway. Her healing magic probably would have kept her alive even without it. Last year during recess, a boy had pushed her from the top of the jungle gym. The other kids had told her that when she’d hit the ground, her neck had made a cracking sound and spun right around like an owl. Stella didn’t remember that bit. She just remembered falling and the way they’d looked at her when she’d gotten back up again after.

Every step the dance teacher took toward her made her feel smaller and smaller. If she got much closer, Stella was afraid the woman might just grow through the ceiling, just like the giant in that movie her grandma always let her watch whenever she was staying at her house.

Luckily Ms. Rivera stopped about halfway across the dance floor and took a deep breath.

“What have I told you? It’s right right left left, not right left right left. Don’t you know your lefts and rights, girl?”

Stella had nodded, too scared to speak.

And now she was scared it was going to happen again. That she would forget, or trip over her feet, or do one pirouette too many. This dance had to be perfect. Today her mum was watching. But she could do nothing until it was her turn. She tried not to fidget. Her mum hated it when she did. It was unladylike.

Finally, she got her chance.

The floor opened up before her. A great piney yellow expanse, so polished she could almost see her reflection.

Stella swallowed her fears with one large gulp, and then she flew out one perfectly placed toe at a time.

She made not a single wrong move this time. Each step was precisely placed and her foot turned exactly at the angle it should be. She danced and she jumped and she spun, just like a robot that had done the moves a thousand times before. And when Stella breathlessly stepped off the floor, her mum was waiting with a smile.

“Well, well, that wasn’t bad. Your demi-bra was a little off-centre but at least it was better than Melody’s. That girl couldn’t hold a jar of apples straight if it was sat on a bench.” Her mum looked pointedly in the direction of some of Stella’s classmates as she reached out and smoothed Stella’s already perfectly tidy blonde bun. “And that Greta. I’ve seen more grace in an elephant. Speaking of elephants, I do wonder if that’s the role Felicity has in mind for her Fiona. If they keep letting her eat the bake sale leftovers, they’re going to need to fit her a new leotard.”

Stella nodded along absently, but her mum’s words left her confused. Fiona didn’t seem that fat and Stella wasn’t sure exactly what constituted grace and what didn’t, but if she couldn’t tell what it was then how could she possibly prevent herself from making the same mistakes? And she hadn’t noticed Melody’s crookedness either. But she couldn’t be sure she had been watching the same performance as her mum. Sometimes when she was waiting, instead of looking backward she looked forward.

Unfortunately, the only thing the power of premonition granted her access to were possibilities. With enough focus, Stella could sometimes tease out the more likely outcomes but much like regular life, nothing was guaranteed and sometimes she had trouble telling the difference between her own vision and that which was actually happening.

Her mum prattled on. “I don’t think it’s fair that they let Otto compete. His levitation gives him too much of an unfair advantage. And I know Greta’s shapeshifting helps lighten the costume department’s workload but that’s no reason... Stella, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, mum.” Stella was. She always was. As a mindwalker, her mum would know if she wasn’t but Stella had long ago mastered the art of splitting her mind into two. It was not dissimilar to the method she used when she saw the futures, intentionally and unintentionally. Although she wasn’t sure quite how it worked, but she had figured out a way to keep one surface level portion of her mind active and attentive to what was being said. It was enough to make it seem like she was paying attention. She could have heard only every third word and still managed to deduce enough to answer any questions her mum might ask. She knew if her mum ever probed too deeply, if she had ever really wanted to know what her daughter thought, the facade would fall apart in an instant. But she never did, and Stella’s second mind was left free to wander, often to ponder more deeply the confusion that her mum’s judgements spawned.

“That Michelle performed well though. We’ll have to do something about her. Brittany and Kendra are also potential competition. There’s two lead parts though and I overheard Pat saying Kendra was trying out for Elphaba so all you have to do is better than the other two and you should be a shoo-in for Glinda. We’re lucky the songs are all pre-recorded. Perhaps we could get you a vocals coach this summer. Andrea’s daughter does both ballet and musicals. I know university may seem like a long way away to you, but everything builds on the previous accomplishments you know.”

Stella winced as her mum roughly redid her hair. Then she turned her head up, down, left, right at her mum’s prompting so her face could be checked from all angles.

Her mum sighed and shook her head. “But when would I fit that in? Between taking you to horse-riding, piano lessons, art classes, not to mention the extra tutoring sessions. Golly, nobody appreciates how much work it is raising a child. Eugh! Look at Tina. Her mother really needs to get her to work on her flexibility. Her foot is barely off the floor.”

Stella looked past Tina, whose foot looked pretty high to her, and watched Michelle chatting with a group of girls across the room. She wished she could join in, but she knew her mother would make a fuss. Besides, what would she say?

Her mum’s voice filtered in and out. “And Kayla?” She shook her head. “That girl has two left feet. Oh look at Brittany’s hair. It’s always a mess. I doubt she’ll get a prominent part...” She lowered her voice as Brittany and her mum approached the bench next to them. “Mrs Vole, how are you?” Brittany looks so lovely today.”

Brittany was taller than Stella with friendly brown eyes and purple clips in her hair. Stella loved those clips. They looked so cute. She wished her mum would let her wear things like that, but she dared not ask. She knew what the answer would be and she dared not think about it too loud either. It was reactive now, when she saw something she liked, she immediately hid the thought, pushed it down deep inside. Instead, she tried to focus her fore-mind on the things her mum would pick on.

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Although Brittany was slim she was less so than Stella. Stella knew she needed to lose some weight herself. Her mum often said so. It was why she was forbidden from eating anything sugary. Thus, Stella acquired some tainted satisfaction in being not quite as big as the other girl. Although she would never say so out loud. Deep down inside she really just wanted them to like her, and Stella understood, from observing her mum, that politeness was instrumental in being liked. One must be perfect and humble, at least on the outside. What was inside did not matter, as long as it was buried too deep to be seen. Stella also understood perfectly that no compliment her mum gave could ever be taken at face value. Something always went unsaid. For Stella, there were many things that went unsaid.

The parents chatted for awhile, exchanging fake pleasantries while Brittany sorted out her things and prepared for her own performance, which would be in the next group.

Stella watched silently.

Eventually, Brittany’s mum turned to her daughter.

“Remember, keep loose but not too loose, point your toes, and always remember to smile.”

“Yes, mother,” replied Brittany.

“Don’t forget to re-hydrate afterward.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Did you bring your water bottle?”

“Yes, mother.”

“What about your cardigan?”

“Yes, mother.” Brittany rolled her eyes, caught Stella watching her, and shared with her a secret smile.

Stella smiled cautiously back.

Then Brittany ran to her place in the line.

One by one Stella watched the other kids dance, trying to find the flaws her mum often spoke of.

They rotated through groups a few more times, but eventually the last group was finished and the parents were called to the meeting about logistics for the audition.

Stella was left alone next to Brittany.

“Your dancing was nice,” Stella ventured bravely, thinking if she started with a compliment maybe she could make a new friend.

But Brittany just shook her head and kicked her feet beneath her chair.

“No it wasn’t. I messed up coming out of the spin. Mother says it’s ‘cause I don’t spot, but it looks so weird when you keep your head in one place.”

Stella’s pulse quickened. The potential of a new friend was high stakes and her compliment hadn’t been received quite like she’d thought it would be. Before fear overtook her, she quickly asked, “How come you call your mum ‘mother’?”

Brittany smiled and shrugged. With a now confident jut of her chin, she replied, “Because that’s the grown up word and I’m not a baby anymore. My sister says only babies say ‘mum.’”

Stella remained silent until her mum returned.

On the way out, the teacher was standing by the door giving advice to kids as they left.

The raven-haired, ever-towering Ms Rivera smiled as Stella and her mum approached. She was tall and bony, but her dark hair flowed like a waterfall out of her bright pink scrunchie. It was the only pink on her, and it brightened up her otherwise dark and stern look. Stella fixated on it so she didn’t have to look the woman in the face. She was captivated by the way her hair moved. She wondered if anyone else noticed it. She got so distracted by it that she forgot about her two minds.

“That was much better than this morning, Stella,” Ms Rivera told her. “You’re still quite stiff though. I’d love to see you loosen things up a bit, bring a bit more fluidity to the floor. You think you can work on that for the week?”

When Stella didn’t immediately answer, her mum’s voice suddenly invaded her mind.

‘Pay attention child! Or I will smack you half way to Sunday! Goodness gracious. This is why you can’t get anything right. Now answer your teacher.’

An icy chill ran across the back of Stella’s neck and down her spine. Then it vanished a moment later like someone lifting their fingers away. Stella re-established her mental barrier. Her first mind realising that she hadn’t been paying attention and suddenly thinking apologetic, guilty thoughts, her second mind still reeling from the surprise company in what she had briefly forgotten was not her own space.

“Y-yes,” Stella replied rapidly. “I will.” She spared a quick glance at her mother and saw the pursed lips and wild, penetrating blue eyes. Eyes like a pool of water, the same colour as her own. But that was a pool whose depths she would never know. In her first mind she promised to work very hard at getting the dance just right before the audition next week. And she meant it. She would practice as much as she could. Her second mind tried to figure out where she had gone wrong.

The butterflies that often made their home in Stella’s stomach didn’t settle until she was seated back in the car. There, she suddenly found she was overcome by a sense of complete calm. She should have known better, should have immediately recognised the feeling, but she was still stuck back on all the mistakes she’d made, like losing focus at the door and before that out on the dance floor. No matter how hard she tried, she never seemed to be able to get things just right. There was always something she forgot, like right now. She should have known what the calm meant. It was a feeling that often preceded one of her visions, the ones she wasn’t expecting. And then a tingling. But by the time she felt the tingling, it was too late. It was just lucky that she was already seated and not in public. Non family members weren’t meant to know about her second power. Weirdly, it never seemed to bother her mum so much if it happened in public, unless it was at a party with the fancy people. She otherwise seemed to enjoy the attention and sympathy it brought.

Even though Stella knew she was still in the car and she could feel and even mentally register the world around her, she could also see and feel and even smell another world, a future world. When she did it on purpose she could jump about and alter things a little, but when it was sudden and unintended like this, Stella had no choice but to let it play out.

She was home and the living room was filled with flowers. Lots of them. White lilies and pink roses. They spilled over every surface still bright and beautiful, but beneath the facade, Stella could smell the decay. They were not fresh but a few days old at least, rotting and withering down where their roots had been thrust and left to soil in dirty water. Someone had taken the time to pot them but not to refresh their water supply. But it wasn’t just the flowers. Something else was going off.

At first glance, the food on the bench looked plentiful, as if a party had just occurred, but upon closer inspection Stella could see that the lasagne was moving, wriggling, crawling. Flies sprouted all over the surface of the fruit bowl and its contents. There were so many, some were stacked one on top of the other all across the outside of shiny red and green apples. Those at least still looked fresh, but underneath, Stella suspected they tasted like cotton.

And there on the couch, sitting in a black dress and staring off to space was her mum, with tear-stained panda eyes and a terrifying look. On the coffee table in front of her were piles of receipts and bills. There was no sign of her dad.

To Stella’s left, hanging from one bouquet of lilies, was a tiny card. Stella reached up and carefully read what it said:

'Sorry for your loss...'

Just as Stella was starting to get an idea of what her vision was about, she found herself back in the car.

“Ah, and she’s back, is she?” Her mum spoke with a slight sigh as if Stella had simply stepped out to get the mail or something equally innocuous.

But to Stella it was quite serious.

“Mum, I think... I think dad made a bad investment again.”

Her mum frowned, obviously not pleased at the suggestion of it. There was that pursing of the lips, the angry look, that said she better be sure this time. Stella’s visions were not always perfect; neither were her dad’s investments strategies. There had been dark days before when her mum had had to return several new pairs of shoes and they’d had to live out of a dirty motel until her dad had found some new investors whose money he could use to make more for himself. Stella wasn’t completely sure how it worked. All she knew was that one day she would be living at her grandma’s, sleeping on the couch, and the next she would have her own large room in a mansion. It went the other way too, though. Sometimes Stella could warn him. Sometimes she couldn’t. Sometimes she got things wrong. Sometimes her father didn’t take it well.

“I... I think he might actually do it this time.”

Stella couldn't foresee things that she had no possibility of witnessing, so she did not know if her father was sitting in the living room armchair right now with his hands in his head and a bottle of whiskey and a handgun waiting on the table in front of him but she had foreseen such a scene before and so it was what she imagined.

Her mum huffed as if her dad’s potential suicide was nothing but a mere inconvenience. Then she pulled over, spun the car around and drove in the opposite direction from home.

"Where are we going?" Stella asked even though she already knew the answer.

"I'm dropping you off at your grandma's house before I go and deal with your father’s other mistakes.”