“It’s not a big deal honey. I don’t mind walking you in,” my mother pushes, hoping I will stop prolonging the inevitable.
“I’m okay, mom!” I say with an exasperated sigh, I quickly unbuckle and hop out of the car, tired of her harping. “See? No big deal, I can go to class just fine.”
“Alright…” my mother says tentatively as I lug my dance bag from the car, my body shifts down under the weight of the bag as I heave in on my shoulder. “Don’t forget to drink lots of water!”
“Alright, sounds good,” I wave my mother off and slam the car door shut. Turning to face the doors of my new studio I take a deep breath and head towards it. I worry myself practically sick with my qualms about this new studio. What if I do not fit in? What if I have less talent than the others? What if they already have their own exclusive cliques? What if I cannot overcome how introverted I am and fail to talk to anyone?  
My pulse quickens as I open the door to the studio. I chew mercilessly at my lip trying to concentrate on something other than the looming studio in front of me.
Compared to my last studio this one has a much more chic look. Instead of bland or outdated décor the walls are painted tastefully in vibrant pinks and green. For seating, simple black chairs and elegant wooden benches line the walls. Outdated black and white dance posters do not adorn the walls here. Instead encouraging, framed signs such as “Work because you want it” and “Dance like no one is watching” hang across the studio in ornate cursive. Unlike my old studio, bags do not litter every spare inch of the floor. The spacious rooms here allow the flurry of girls to maneuver around without tripping over each other.
Speaking of the flurry of teenage dancers, I am officially alone in a sea of strangers.  The girls bound to and fro, squealing in delight at the sight of their friends, gossiping about their adventures, exclaiming their excitement over the upcoming competitive dance season.
Friendless, I retreat myself to an open wall in the studio, praying I was not stealing anyone’s regular spot. When a wave of petrifying social anxiety hits me and I pull out my phone, hoping to at least look preoccupied instead of a complete outsider. I cannot talk to any of these girls, what if they are rude?
Truthfully, many of the girls look friendly. In fact, no one looks remotely unfriendly. Yet one of the most paralyzing things about attempting to be social was that I do not want to ruin anyone’s dynamic. All these girls have known each other for years and now I’m the ugly duckling of the place, the awkward one out. So I sit there, hiding behind the screen of my phone till class starts. Waiting for someone to finally take pity on me and introduce herself.  I just wait… And scroll through my Twitter feed like seven times. 
Finally the prior class files out of the doors of the large room and I follow the mass of teenage girls into the room. They all sit in clumps around the teacher, chatting while she gathers her bearings from the previous class. I choose a position by a clump of girls closer to my age, far enough away so I avoid intruding on their conversation yet close enough that people may assume I know others.
            My saving grace comes in the form of a 16 year-old girl, minutes before the teacher starts talking. Despite my tactful placement around the clumps, she notices almost immediately that I am friendless. She pulls away from her own clump and sits down besides me.
            “You're new here, right?” The question becomes rhetorical when she doesn't wait for my reply and introduces herself immediately, “I'm Zoe!”
“Uh… Nice to meet you,” I stutter out my reply. I feel a bit shell shocked anyone even bothered to talk to me. “I’m Rachel.”
“Do you know anyone here?” she pushes, trying to make friendly small talk. A weight has been lifted off my chest since I finally know someone. A mind-numbing fear still lives inside me and I worry that I will say something awkward and lose my first acquaintance.
“No, I’m a bit of a loner at the moment,” I reply jokingly, even though it is honestly the truth. All the girls here are strangers. I do not know them and they do not know me. 
“Well I guess you’ve made your first friend! Let me introduce you to everyone!” Zoe says with a bright grin. Her bubbly voice matches her social butterfly personality. She doesn’t realize it but my newfound friendship with her means the world.
I spent so much time doubting myself that I forgot how welcoming people are. Zoe had no reason to talk to me, yet she reached out to me, the loner. Honestly, I shouldn’t have been afraid to talk to someone. My imagination just gets the best of makes me dramatize everything and make it ten times scarier than the truth. A little courage would’ve gone a long way and saved me from agonizing about my loner status.
  Zoe doesn’t wait for my reply and drags me into her circle of friends. She proceeds to introduce everyone so rapidly that I can barely process it all.  Each girl gives me a bright smile and a small wave. For the life of me though, I cannot process if Shannon is the girl with black hair or blonde. I think the blonde is Chloe actually. Wait, who is Grace then? 
My biggest accomplishment of the day is finally gaining some friends. Even if I am a bit overwhelmed now, it is a blessing. I had no fun sitting alone in a crowd of strangers.
The teacher shushes the class as she begins introductions. My group quickly stifles our giggles and turn to focus. Even though I came here to dance my thoughts are elsewhere, trying to line up names with faces. I am far too grateful for these lovely girls. This means I refuse be that person who messes up names…now seriously, which one is Amanda?