Yay! I'm so glad to be writing again. I've been really busy ( and happily so :) ), as of late, but this will be my next full-length story that I'll be working on. I needed a break from Otherwise for a little bit. Anyway, this story focuses on how The Corny Collins Show came to be. Most of the Council Kids will get their chance to shine, some way more than others, seeing as how this is all about them. It is somewhat Shelleycentric, butthe others are very, very essential and will be major, very seriousparts, I promise you. Expect delicious conflict, among many, many other things. So, I hope you enjoy!

This story is for you, Tracy.


"No, no, no!" Sharply called a voice to a slender, redheaded girl, as she stood looking lamely over. "You've got it all wrong," The voice, obviously female, came from a rather young, brown-haired woman, either in her elder twenties or early thirties.

With an exasperated sigh, the older woman stood a little in front of the other younger girl, poised and ready.

"Feet together, with your right heel out," As she stated the movements, she performed them, as well, "Jump back into place with your right, land with your left toe on the ground and your left heel raised," She paused, visibly very into the current routine that she was performing for a quite uninterested-looking student. "Your left heel moves to the left side, and repeat the same as before, only this time with the left," She stated blandly, as though she were just trying to get her pupil to realize her budding annoyance. After a moment of silence and a cleverly issued eye-roll by the redheaded girl, the woman whipped around and stared at her, aggravated.

"Shelley Anne Ambrose," By the obvious tone of her voice, Shelley knew that she was, more or less, about to be chastised. "You are never this scatterbrained. What is your problem this afternoon?" She wondered, her eyebrows lowered in mild curiosity, though mostly in irritation and impatience. Shelley, who so immaturely rolled her eyes again, crossed her arms over her chest.

"It is nothing, Alexandra," She said uncaringly, with an indifferent shrug of her shoulders.

"Clearly, it is something. It isn't everyday that you are entirely incapable of performing the basic and even low beginner steps of The Chicken, Shelley," Alexandra shot back with sardonic incredulity, while one eyebrow rose. Shelley cringed and narrowed her eyes.

"Oh? And when was it that you became my mother by so rudely attempting to intrude on my personal life?" Shelley said bitterly, her manicured fingernails tapping against the tan skin of her arms. The older woman exhaled heavily.

"Right," She eyed Shelley warily. "I've only taught—"

"Instructed," Shelley insisted, if only to spite her.

"All right—instructed—you since you could walk. I obviously have gotten nowhere fast with all the years that you and I have known each other," Alexandra noted, a vague hint of amusement in the underlying tones of her voice. Shelley, however, was not budging. She merely scowled and remained as she was, decisively silent. Her dance instructor drew in a sharp breath once more.

"You are truly an enigma, Shelley. I barely understand you myself."

"Somehow, I am not surprised," Shelley rolled her shoulders, unsatisfied until she heard a small 'pop' from both of them.

"Oh?"

"Nothing," Shelley bit her tongue to help combat the urge to continue on with her cynical reply.

"Just as I thought, Miss Ambrose," Alexandra stated, suddenly needlessly formal. Turning towards her once more, the taller woman stared down at the girl. "I expect an answer, at once. What is bothering you?"

Seeing no end in sight to this continuous and repetitive game of ask-and-tell, Shelley let her shoulders fall somewhat as she took to her usual, dramatic stance of one leg slightly farther from the other, with her arms crossed.

"For Christ's sake, Alexandra," She pursed her lips into an irritable pout. "I am just annoyed. Am I not allowed to express in here, or what?"

Well, that was… minor progress, at least.

"I never said that you weren't allowed, Shelley. Now, with whom or what?"

Shelley had half the mind to say that it was her dance instructor herself, but she knew she would be unable to. As much as they appeared to annoy one another, Alexandra was one of the very few that Shelley held genuine respect for, believe it or not. She was basically her mentor, after all.

"You know precisely who," Was all that she said, as her dimly lit, blue eyes gazed up into the opposing pair of light green ones. Alexandra stood, puzzled, for a moment, before a thought hit her suddenly.

"Is it—"

"Amber? Yes, Alexandra, it is Amber. That idiotic harlot—"

"Shelley."

"What?" She hissed, her eyes narrowed to malicious slits.

"I've yet to see what's so horrible about this girl," Alexandra said simply, her expression unreadable and virtually blank.

Shelley laughed contemptibly, and rather loudly, also.

"Oh, my God. Are you serious?" She stifled another sharp, bit of laughter before eyeing her mentor. "She has only just joined the council, which has been around for, granted, only a couple of months, but still she believes that it belongs to her. Her dancing, if I may even call it that, makes me want to individually rip out each one of my eyelashes with a pair of needles. Her mother makes me want to sit through Chinese water torture rather than listen to her. She is the most infuriating, untalented, childish, moronic bitc—"

"Shelley," Alexandra shook her head as, amazingly, a small grin crept across her lips. "I don't really believe that she's the 'childish' one in this."

"Was that supposed to offend me?" Shelley snapped back, her top lip curled back slightly into a snarl.

"No," Alexandra sighed, an entertained grin still resting upon her elegant features. "I suppose not. Anyway, you're fourteen-years-old, Shelley. Couldn't you grow up just a little, and forget this silly game with them?"

"Game?" Shelley's voice was both surprised and on the offense.

"Oh, excuse me," Her mentor's tone was easily identified as sarcastic. "This oh-so tactful and well-planned plot to their inevitable downfall."

Shelley scowled once more and turned her back to her instructor, her lean arms remaining crossed over her chest.

"Just shut up, would you? You have no idea what you are talking about. You never do," Shelley growled fiercely, her eyebrows furrowing angrily as she glared at Alexandra by means of one of the many surrounding mirrors. "You play this off as though it's some simple, trivial matter. For your information, Alexandra, it is not. If the blame is to be placed on anyone, then place it on them. I have done nothing."

Shaking her head, Alexandra could not bring herself the wipe the unfortunate smile from her lips. Sometimes she wondered about Shelley's logic; it was a little off, if not completely misplaced. Wishing to avoid further conflict, Alexandra glanced over to the clock on the wall, and then back to the inwardly fuming teenager.

"All right, Shelley," She began, her voice soft and impartial. "I think we're done for the day. I'll see you tomorrow."

Grumbling to herself, Shelley briefly glared over her shoulder at Alexandra before snatching up her dance bag and heading towards the door. Alexandra merely watched on in silence as Shelley recklessly tossed open the door, thus completing her dramatic exit.


All of the current Council Kids were due down at the studio later in the afternoon for a small rehearsal. At the moment, there was only about twelve of them, a number that no one seemed very comfortable with. Shelley could not truthfully say that she knew each and every one of them by name.

She knew Amber, obviously, and Link, but those were evident. There was also a boy that followed Link around everywhere, and who kept eyeing her any chance that he got. She supposed that Link and he were 'best friends,' or whatever.

Then, of course, Amber was beginning to get her own posse situated. She had hooked a very nice, and almost shy, girl, one of whom Shelley actually liked a decent amount. She knew that her name was Tammy, but that was about all she knew. The rest were complete enigmas to her, aside from the creepy twins that would pop up out of nowhere. The other five were unimportant, and would probably be replaced soon; therefore, she did not bother with them, or anyone, really.

Shelley was actually early, for once, to a rehearsal. Typically, she found herself wandering in a little after they all started, or as one of the last arrivals just before they began. Today was different, though. She had made a disagreeable trip to a quaint café in town, much to her better judgment's personal preferences. It was an attractive place, with nice food, beverages, and the like; however, her undesirable meal had not been something she was particularly proud of. Though it was very little, Shelley's stomach had been bothering her ever since then, clearly uneasy over the outlandish concept.

Knowing all too well that she could not let something such as this bother her during rehearsal, she knew just how much self-control she was working with at the present. As she entered the studio, amongst cameramen, crewman, and a few others, she shoved past them all negligently, her eyes set uninterestedly ahead of her. Once she reached her destination, the ladies' restroom, she casually pushed it open and stepped inside, taking no heed to the men and women who were minding their own business and working around her.

She shrugged her dance bag off her shoulder as she entered the restroom, and let it fall carelessly on the tiled floor. Glancing around briefly, she let her eyes wander over to the mirror for a moment. She stared at herself for a mere second, and then gazed over to her dance bag again. She was hesitant, as that was evident by how her fingernails began to trace over the tanned skin of her slender arms. However, with an annoyed and rushed sigh, she haphazardly pushed one of the stalls open, slammed the door behind her, and then locked it.

Her irritation had only doubled since earlier, and she could not, for the life of her, figure out why. Alexandra had not done anything worth getting this angry over. In fact, Alexandra had done nothing at all. She had merely stated the truth. Shelley supposed that was what made her so aggravated. She had said the things that she did not want to hear.

But, that was not it at all. It had nothing to do with anyone, but had everything to do with Shelley herself. Glancing to the side pointlessly, Shelley wordlessly acknowledged the pleasant silence by glancing away from the dark-colored stall wall. Delicately resituating the skirts of her brightly colored dress, she crouched down. Without giving it even a second thought, her body took to its usual stance; and with barely any persuasion at all, it tensed, and released a small excuse of the contents of her stomach.

Stifling an irritated groan, Shelley drove herself even further, though with little purpose or effect, as shown by the mere and intense dry heaves that she lead herself toward. Noticing how her limbs begin to feel both light and heavy, she averted her head from the toilet, and barely caught herself on the left wall of the bathroom's stall.

With her chest heaving due to her labored breathing, she let her gaze clumsily wander beneath the stall to regrettably spot a small pair of dark blue high heels. Feeling her chest tighten suddenly, she held her breath and narrowed her eyes. She knew those shoes; she knew them. Remaining where she was, she watched as the feet paused for another moment, turned sharply, and then clicked out of the bathroom. Curling her fingers into taut fists, Shelley slammed her right hand into the side of the stall harshly, and then forcefully and weakly willed herself to stand, despite her stumbling.

Purposefully allowing her eyes to wander away, she reached out with one of her hands, swiftly flushed the toilet, and then rashly unlocked and threw open the bathroom stall's door. Not even bothering to let her eyes glance up into the mirror above the sink, she washed her hands a few times, dried them off, and then stepped away.

She ran her tongue over her lips, nearly cringing as she bent down to pick up her dance bag. Shelley's pale eyes glanced left and right for a moment, before she tentatively walked out of the bathroom, her fingernails knocking against the door briefly. With her dance bag resting on her right shoulder, she swallowed, her eyes still slightly narrowed, and then wandered over to her dressing table.

The others were beginning to arrive now, however unfortunately, and as Shelley began to touch up her rouge, reapply her red lipstick, and coat her eyelashes with unheard of amounts of mascara, she knew that she would be all right, for the moment. Once she was through fixing her make-up and spraying her hair to a minor perfection, she let her gaze fall blankly into the mirror. Her eyes were suddenly caught up with someone else's, someone else who happened to have a slim pair of dark blue high heels on their petite feet. Menacing, narrowed, blue eyes stared back into hers, carving into her awareness in a way that only Velma Von Tussle's could.

Velma stared forebodingly into the mirror's reflection, her gaze still locked intensely with Shelley's. With her own eyes narrowed, Shelley glared back, her fingers curling against the fingernail file that rested amongst them. She dared Velma to walk over; she dared her to say something, to tell her that her career was over, that there was no place on the show for shortcomings such as that. However, instead, Velma merely averted her gaze, offered Shelley a strongly satisfied smirk, and continued conversing with one of the backstage crewmembers.

Shelley let her eyes wander down to where her knuckles were beginning to turn white from gripping the fingernail file. So, was that it? She bit down roughly on her bottom lip, and was about to violently toss down the nail file when someone appeared behind her, smiling brightly.

"Hi there! Shelley, wasn't it?" Wondered a trim, little brunette, with a painfully addictive and persistent smile. Shelley's heart rate intensified for a few seconds before slowly beginning to return to normal as she whipped around, her mouth half-poised and ready to speak.

"Yes," She replied plainly, her fingers finally starting to release their death grip on the nail file. "Hello, Tammy."

"Gosh, I thought I was going to be late today," Tammy began, as she moved over next to Shelley, to study her present condition in one of the mirrors for a few moments, as it had been clear that she probably sprinted to the studio. "My Ma had me watching my two little cousins. They're only about two and four, but they're so hyperactive and troublesome! I almost lost one, and I—"

Shelley was staring at her somewhat distractedly as she went on, and Tammy blushed as she came to an abrupt realization.

"Oh, sorry, Shelley!" Tammy smiled sheepishly and brushed a couple of strands of her brown hair behind one of her ears nervously. "I didn't mean to ramble."

Dismissing the matter with a thoughtless shrug of her shoulders, Shelley glanced around briefly, and then looked back to Tammy.

"Where is Amber?" She asked unceremoniously, yet tightly, as well as with a tone of voice that took Tammy by complete surprise.

"I, ah… I don't know, Shelley. I mean…" She trailed off, obviously having no idea.

"It doesn't matter," Shelley began, her shoulders falling into yet another shrug. "You are just usually with her."

"Oh, well… I haven't seen her since—"

"Tammy!"

Both Tammy and Shelley turned their heads quickly at the sudden calling of the brunette's name. Mixed reactions and emotions were immediately put into play at the sight of the damnable, plastic, blue-eyed blonde walking over, an overtly angry expression on her pretty features. Shelley felt her eyes narrow involuntarily.

"Tammy, what are you doing over here?" Amber reprimanded the other girl, with her usual, lower lip pout being put into full swing. "Mother's about to call us over to begin rehearsal, and you're talking to—" The blonde's eyes trailed coldly over to where Shelley's stared back vacantly, yet still with some unspoken challenge. "—her."

Tammy promptly took to the defensive and moved next to Amber, her eyes tracing the ground apologetically. If there was one thing that she had quickly learned from her couple of weeks on The Corny Collins Show, it was that no one crossed either of the Von Tussles, and that everyone was supposed to immediately fall into line whenever they called upon them to do so. Tammy had noticed, however, that a few of the Council members were a bit slow on the uptake with this silent rule. Link Larkin, of course, was excused, but what about Shelley, and that boy that seemed to be at Link's heels at every moment? Brad, or something? To them, the 'rule' seemed virtually nonexistent, or at least inconsequential.

"Sorry, Amber," Tammy said quietly, her lips curving down into the most pathetic and yet compelling frown that Shelley was certain that she had ever witnessed. Nevertheless, as Amber very briefly closed her eyes to issue an irritable scoff, Shelley caught this ridiculously contrite glance from Tammy. Shelley narrowed her eyes in disgust and shoved the look out of her mind.

"You'd better be. Just don't let it happen again," She started, her eyes purposefully keeping away from Shelley, who stood, lips pursed, arms over her chest, with one foot poised slightly farther than the other. "Got it?"

"Mmmhm," Tammy mumbled, still too uncomfortable to look up again just yet.

"Good," Amber concluded, with a pleased smirk, one that struck Shelley as far too similar to the one that Amber's mother had given her just moments before. "Now, as for you," She turned her full attention to Shelley, for the first time. "Get over there to rehearsal, Shelley. You're always late, and it's annoying," She glared nastily at Shelley, who, in turn, looked entirely unfazed. "Your place on the show isn't a guarantee, you know. Mother's always talking about replacing unnecessary members with something or someone better."

Shelley stared back into Amber's bitter gaze with outward, obvious indifference. Amber lowered her voice, and Tammy made a face that clearly voiced how awkward and uncomfortable she felt to have to stand through this.

"So, I'd watch your step, if I were you," Amber nearly growled the words as she silently signaled to Tammy with a nod of her head, to prepare to leave. Yet, before they were able, Shelley began to move before them, her eyes closed momentarily as she paused in mid-step, so that she was now directly adjacent to Amber.

"No, Amber," She said almost inaudibly, her eyes fixed into such ominous glare that Tammy couldn't bring herself to even bother listening to this conversation anymore. "I would watch where you step, because what goes up, must always come down," She hissed the words, and then slowly began to walk again, only to temporarily glance over her shoulder for one, last verbal stab at her. "And you had better believe that I will be there to watch you fall, and to tear you down every, single step of the way."

With that, Shelley joined the now gathered group of young teenagers, all prepared for another grueling session with Velma Von Tussle. Neither Shelley nor Amber bothered to acknowledge one another for the remainder of the rehearsal, and when it inevitably came to an end, late in the afternoon, the growing and obvious division between certain Council members only became more and more apparent to the critical eyes of outsiders.

Individuals with such diverse, complex, and, at times, brash personalities did not belong together if harmony was encouraged. However, if there was one thing that the mastermind behind it all, Velma Von Tussle, knew, it was that it would work wonders for television, and for her daughter's predestined rise to the top of this gruesome and treacherous chain.

It was a tangled web that she was beginning to weave all her own, one that she would only have to tend to for so long until the kids themselves took matters into their own inexperienced, clumsy, and dangerous hands. Then, all of the work would be done for her, and she could just sit back, reel with laughter, and enjoy her brilliant and intricate creation.