I wake up the next day in my temporary excuse for a hotel. I pack all of my things, dress myself in my dance uniform, and travel over to the O2 Arena and start my first official day rehearsing for “This is It.” Am I more nervous that I’m in the troupe than I’ve been in the audition? Yes. Hell yes. Actually, I’m shaking in my dance slippers.

Anyway, I have to take the bus to the O2 Arena because it was too far away to walk, and I had no other transportation to use. Plus, I’m too scared to use the taxi. London is not one of the best places to be if you don’t live here. I don’t live in London either, but I would have to when I practice at the arena. As I near the place, I start shaking even more.

Ashley is the first person I see when I reach the arena doors. “Hey, Lily!” she shrieks at the top of her lungs.

“Ash?” I ask at the top of my lungs. Honestly, I’m actually relieved that Ashley Timberlake made it to the Top 11. I’ve known she deserved to be in the troupe more than anyone I’ve seen yesterday.

After we rejoiced for a couple of seconds, she says, “Ever since Michael talked to you yesterday, I was so nervous, but I saw the score, and I got in! I managed to take one of the last spots on the list. Thank heavens.”

“Thank heavens is right,” I respond, “You deserve this.”

“Come on. We have to be on that stage before eight, or else Michael will have our heads.” Ashley pulls me into the arena, and we sneak onto the same stage that we’ve been on for the auditions…to impress Michael Jackson in the first place. Standing on that stage should make everyone in the troupe realize that this is serious. This is not fun and games. We have until July to make our moves perfect for the tour.

At eight o’clock sharp, Michael enters the theater. “Good morning, my lucky chosen ones,” he announced, “What a day in London.”

We say nothing because as employees, we don’t speak unless we are required to speak. It’s a law in the dance business.

“I know that all of you seem a little rattled because you are used to a larger class, but all I can say is that by the time that this tour starts, the lot of you are going to be the best of friends. For now, all eyes are on me. Yes, men, I know I’m not a pretty sight to see, but we are not hear to find a date, understand?”

The “not a pretty sight” thing rattles me. Michael Jackson is sexier than any other guy in my troupe. Anyone that appears sexy as those men in Sports Illustrated is nothing but a fake.

“Before we actually begin, I want to count everyone off and recognize faces from yesterday.” He starts on stage right, where most of the guys of the group are hanging around. “How original, we have the boys on one side and girls on the other.” I know he’s sarcastic about that. Some celebrities love to be in cliques, but I assume that Michael Jackson is one of those people that really hates that. Cliques don’t exactly make the best work. They all care about themselves and actually make the work happen less than it should. “Let’s see now.” He starts pointing off each of the boys in the row. “Jared Rice, Bradley Maurice, Tim Isaac, Peter Frankton, and Lawrence Grant.” As he says those name, he doesn’t sound too fond of them, but they’re the best he’s got.

“You don’t think he hates them, do you?” Ashley asks me.

“Probably not. Michael doesn’t hate unless it’s someone he really knows, and they just don’t get along in the slightest inch.”

“He hates the paparazzi more than a smidge, don’t you think?”

“Now, the ladies!” Michael announces. I’m standing at the end, and his mood isn’t going to change until then. I know that for sure.

“Let’s see here. Jane Allbridge, Emma Darling, Sonia Vashony…” As he passed the girls, she started to make them weak in the knees. Jane, Emma, and Sonia are all blushing pink, giggling like schoolgirls. Honestly, I’m starting to get nervous because I know that Michael will know my face. He’s a person that means business. “Alicia Jenner…” Michael stops in front of Ashley, and his eyes widen. “Ashley Timberlake? Goodness, I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair down.”

Ashley nervously laughs. “Really?” She starts playing with her strands by twisting them around her fingers. “I was in a rush, and I couldn’t tie it.”

Michael strokes his fingers through her blonde, straight strands. “Well, I would like it if you kept it this way. Straight is better for you.”

Ashley giggled again. “Why, thank you, Michael.”

“And, ah, Miss Lily Carmichael.” Michael stands in front of me and smiles again. “I hope you got some decent sleep last night.”

“I, well…the room wasn’t…”

Michael interrupts and says, “I know. I’m already getting reservations for the newest hotel. Everyone will have a nicer room in that one.”

“Mr. Jackson?”

“It’s Michael and don’t worry about it. It’s all on me.” He pats me on the head as if I’m his dog or something. I’m not anyone’s pet, and I’m the only child of my mother’s, so he should be more focused on his tour than treating me like I’m one of his three kids. “Okay, enough horsing around, and let us get to business. Why took we take a look at the arena first. The construction of the O2 began in 2003 and finished in 2007. Yes, guys, almost two years ago. It may be a new building, but it can hold up to twenty thousand audience members as you can see. Fun fact, they are going to hold the next summer Olympics in London, so they’ll be hosting here.”

I am amused, but the other dancers act like tourists by saying, “Oh.”

“The arena has a lot of spectacular features for concerts. Lawrence, do you think you can do me a favor?”

Lawrence scoffs. “Of course, I can. What is it?” he says.

Michael taps his foot on the floor in a certain spot. “There’s a square, and I would like for you to stand on it.”

“Can do, Mickey J.”

“It’s Michael,” Mr. Jackson hisses to himself.

Lawrence takes the spot on the mysterious square. Michael is up to something, so I think this is going to be fun.

“Alright,” Michael says to the stage manager, “Start it up.”

The stagehand pushes a random button, and the square on the stage goes down with Lawrence sinking into the stage. Lawrence’s eyes widen as he looks below him. “Uh, dude, what is this?”

“It’s a spring shot panel,” Michael explains, “It sinks into the room below the stage. It could stay there for as long as it has to, and it’ll still have the same force to bring the person back up to the stage.”

“It what?” The room below the stage isn’t as loud as the theater itself, so nobody can hear Lawrence down there. It’s too faint.

“Lawrence!” Michael calls, “What I want you to do is keep your knees bent. You’re in for a wild ride.”

“Knees bent?”

Michael points at the stagehand, and the button is pushed again. The panel springs back up with Lawrence flying a foot from the ground. He lands flat on his stomach once he lands. The rest of the dancers except for me laugh hysterically as they watch Lawrence struggle to get up from the ground.

Michael kneels down and says, “I thought I told you to keep your knees bent.”

“I did,” Lawrence groans.

“Well, lesson learned, everyone. Don’t take advice from me when it comes to what happens on stage.”

“But you told me to step on that thing!” shrieks Lawrence.

“I did that because I wanted to see someone sent flying today. I tried it once, and I almost broke my leg.”

The other dancers gasp.

“What did happen?” Sonia questions.