It was those pictures...those stupid facebook pictures of all seven of them posing in tendu and arabesque. I was number eight of the group. You question my parents for their side of the story and they would tell you of their challenges with the adults at the ballet school: The school's fundraising calendar without African-Americans, the offensive remarks and looks. However, I saw a different side, a side that at the time did not seem atrocious. Now it hurts, those pictures of my "friends" sting. We would all talk together like sisters. I saw each girl everyday. I thought I knew everything about them, but what I didn't know was that they weren't really my friends. All the comments about my skin color not being a "big deal", that to them I was just like all of them. It was a lie. I wasn't and am not one of them. Their blonde, brunnette, and red hair is nothing like my nappy black half-Haitian African American hair. Their freshly pealed apple skin is nothing like my dark chocolate caramel skin. Yet we all had hearts, and feelings. I laughed, giggled and cried with each girl. Then why did they treat me so badly? I was genial to each girl. If their mom was late to pick-up after practice I waited with them no matter how late. If they fell during recital I was the first one to rush over and check on them. When I left the dance school not one girl called me. I told myself that it was because they were busy! they weren't busy. I said that they might not have noticed yet! How could they not notice that the one chocolate brown girl was missing. I knew their whole friendship was a lie when one girl saw me at school and simply asked "How do you like your new ballet school?". Did they think I left by choice? I LEFT because I wanted to go to a ballet school where I didn't have to run away with my costume just so the teacher wouldn't give it to a white girl. I LEFT because I wanted to dance at a place that would look at my skill level before my skin color. I may seem angry, which I was, or hurt, which I was. But I'm not anymore. I realize those pictures are fake, and I just hope the new girl they added learns sooner then I did, that they don't care. I have moved on. I am a strong believer that my story did not happen in vain. These stories loom in the eyes of almost all black ballet dancers, but like the first raindrop from those clouds my story has left. It no longer congests my mind with suffering. I hope this aids someone: another aspiring black dancer, someone being discriminated against for any reason, or maybe even someone who realized they had fake friends. Helen Keller said "Keep your face to the sunshine and you can't see the shadows". Those seven girls stayed my shadows for a while, but my sunshine is the realization that I no longer have to worry about not being the lead part in recital just because I am black. I feel stronger.