Title: Dance of an Angel

Plot: AU High school setting. A story about dance, music and the power of love.

Richard is a normal teenager, trying to adjust to a new town and new school. He lives with his guardian Bruce, a troubled businessman with a shady past.

Aruna, a teen with a passion for music and dance, despite deafness from a childhood accident. She lives with her mother, a young widow trying to escape the shadow of her husband's suicide.

When the two meet, Richard is annoyed by Aruna's calm nonchalance, and by the fact that she can't/won't speak. When he joins the photography club; immediately he decides to create an autobiography on the young woman's dancing, using only pictures.

Aruna is slightly put off by Richard's insistence to document her talents, feeling that his curiosity is nothing but disguised pity. She finds him hard to understand and follow...especially since he talks exceptionally fast. Aruna doesn't want to cooperate with him... he is quite frankly, a nuisance.

As the two begin to understand each other, pieces from the past resurface challenging their friendship. Will Aruna learn the importance of teamwork and accept Richard for who he is? Will Richard learn to look past Aruna's deafness and see her as an equal, and not someone in need of pity?

Chapter 1: Hard of Hearing

Chatter filled the room, the numerous voices ranging from excited and ecstatic to bored and monotone. Many people had gathered in this gym tonight. There were whole families -grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins all sprawled on the massive bleachers of the town stadium. The lights were shining brightly, illuminating the eager and pleasant faces in the crowd.

Voices rose and fell, parents bragging about their children, visitors commenting about the vastly decorated stadium floor, cousins, nieces and nephews bickering about the choices of snacks.

The whole town was alive with action. It was a special event...something that had never been heard of before. The community had finally opened it's gymnastic club center, and tonight was the first exhibition.

For many in the town it was something to be proud of: your child being one of the first to participate in a new athletic program that gushed with undiscovered possibilities. If these children were found to have 'talent' who knows what opportunities lay in store for them? The town would also receive an influx of business and newcomers.

Lights dimmed, judges stepped up to their respective places, and an anxious hush fell over the exuberant crowd. Eyes were trained on the stadium floor as the announcer reiterated the many regulations and introduced the judges. The tension was unbearable.. people sat on pins and needles just waiting for action.

One ten year old boy sat in the box seats, clutching a bag of candy as he stared intently onto the main floor. His bright blue eyes remained mesmerized and captivated by the scene before him as the candy in the bag slowly diminished piece by piece...all disappearing into the childish and no doubt cavity filled mouth.

What was he staring at? What was so intriguing that could hold the boy's attention for so long?

The thirty year old man beside him might have a clue. He was after all, the boy's guardian. It was to be expected that he'd know just what the boy liked and disliked. He knew of his son's obsession for candy...as well as his love of sports.

Today was an unsure day, however, as the young boy didn't know what kind of sport 'gymnastics' was. At the first glance of the program, a look of disgust had entered his eyes, 'why would he want to go and watch a bunch of girls in leotards'?

The middle aged man chuckled to himself when he saw the obvious change in attitude. Of course he would like gymnastics...it was the same kind of acrobatic work done in the circus, the circus being a place his son loved to attend. However, the man didn't expect his adopted son to be this attentive.

It seems that today must be special...no act could have held his attention more than this. Perhaps it was the selection of music, the very inspiring classical pieces. Ah, but his son didn't care for such music. He was more into movie themes. So the last performance had to have been the event that so intrigued and fascinated him.

Whoever had picked this piece as last really wanted to leave a good impression. Nothing tonight was so captivating and so intriguing as that little girl in the sparkling, red leotard, with raven black hair and mischievous eyes. The little girl was fast and slender, being able to run and tumble with the ease of a cheetah.

Lithe hands adorned with glittering red gloves moved in perfect coordination, and her slender tiny feet were always poised. Her red leotard flashed brightly as she began to cartwheel across the floor, feet and arms in the perfect position. The red sparkles on the leotard, the dark swinging ponytail mesmerized the young child with the cotton candy.

Eyes followed feverishly, ears filled with the sound of the awe-inspiring music. The eerie trill of the cello, shrill interjection of the violin, calm and composed accompaniment of the piano, the increasing tempo of the brass instruments, the menacing thump of the timpani.

One, two, three, four,

One, two three four.

The girl-in-red moved with the music, she jumped and fell with the sound of the imposing drums, hair danced and twirled with the brass instruments, the red sparkled in his eyes erratically, flashing then disappearing with the rise and fall of the stringed instruments. On the beams this little girl seemed to hover in the air as she twirled and skipped. It was as if she were a fairy...a fairy adorned in red and scarlet, the darling of everyone's hearts.

T 'was this young, sparkling girl that the blue eyed boy watched earnestly...drawn in by her complicated twists and turned. She was never still, she bounced...she spun...she jumped and she danced.

Loud and soft,

Loud and soft.

The volume of the music grew, and softened, grew and softened in tempo with the young girl's movements. The red sparkles glittered in his vision, blinding then receding, just like the rise and fall of the violins. The brass instruments blared in his ears, filling his heart with awe and wonder. They rose and fell, in time to his excited breath.

Jump, spin and land,

Jump spin and land.

The boy couldn't keep up, he wanted to stare at her more, he wanted to see her dark hair, stare at her pink flushed cheeks and find out what color her eyes were. Maybe they were brown? Perhaps blue? Maybe even the strange gold color of Seline's! Would he get to find out her name? How old was she? She looked so young! How long had she practiced?

One, two, three, four,

One, two three, four.

Questions raged in the boy's mind as he watched intently. His candy was all gone...but it really didn't matter anymore. Vibrant blue eyes stared at the scene before him and his ears were filled with the sound of the fast-playing violins. The music washed over him, captivating and drawing his eyes to center stage.

Loud and soft,

Loud and soft.

He could feel the tightness in his chest, had he forgotten how to breathe? The boy stared intensely as the girl swung back and forth on the uneven bars. The blaring brass section grew louder, increasing in tempo as the girl-in-red spun faster on the bars.

Wasn't she dizzy? How could she spin so fast? He stared as she switched, swinging back from one to the other, her pace seeming to increase with every spin and switch-off. It was overwhelming and he couldn't look away. So captivating was the scene that unfolded rapidly before the young boy. He watched in awe as she released her hands and pushed off the bars, spinning and twisting in the air.

Twist and turn,

Twist and turn.

Everything matched. The epic music, the young girl's swift and accurate movements. How long had she practiced? How could such a young girl be able to accurately perform to such a complicated piece? How did she do it?

Everything was perfect! The way her hair twirled and danced, like the shrill rise and fall of the strings. The way the red shocked and captivated his eyes just like the mesmerizing echo of the trumpets. The way her body twisted and moved, going in time to the deafening beat of the drums.

It was as if she had become the music. The girl's mind, body and soul had become the music, the sound and tempo directed by her fingertips. It flowed in waves, rising as she jumped, falling as she landed. The tempo increased with every blinding twist, it fell with every pause.

One, two, three four,

One, two, three four.

Red flashed before him, dark hair swung rapidly as she landed and began to back-flip once more...cavorting across the room as if she could fly. Faster and faster she went... louder and louder the music grew, overwhelming his tender ears and stopping his eager breaths.

Suddenly silence. In his eager ears, the sound of the timpani echoed, still following the rigid beat.

One, two three four,

One, two, three, four.

The slow, high-pitched sound of the piano and the shrill drawn out notes of the strings overwhelmed the small boy, goosebumps rose on flushed skin. Blue eyes darted about the room, watching the girl-in-red as she began to twirl, her dark hair and the flashing red leotard blending and meshing together.

Slender arms rose and fell with the music still...resembling a strange spinning top. Now only the piano was left, still calm and composed in spite of it all. High note, then low note, this pattern echoed in the young boy' s ear commanded by the young girl's ascent and descent of pale hands.

Then, to the boy's horror, a long drawn out screech of the violin pierced his ears.

Lights switched on, and the exuberant murmurs of the crowd reached his ears. Confused blue eyes darted about the room, where was the top? Where?

A pair of mysterious hazel eyes met his from across the room. The young boy stared, noting with horror the dark black hair, red sparkling leotard and fancy red gloves.

The top was no longer moving. The show was over.

Everyday when he woke, the first thing he saw was the white spotless ceiling. Everyday he was plagued with the idea to paint that empty ceiling. Maybe some blue or black with glow-in-the-dark stickers. It sounded childish, but Richard loved childish things.

At their old house in Pennsylvania, his walls were covered with a glow-in-the-dark racetrack. So every night when the lights went out...the races in his room began...such happy memories.

Sitting up in his bed, Richard stretched forward, grasping the photo album from his nightstand. Quickly the teenager flipped the pages, ice blue eyes rapidly scanning the pages. Christmas cards, family photos, school programs; there was too much stuff in this album. Oh, the martial arts tournament! And the dirt bike that Roy let him 'borrow'.

Didn't that thing break?

Where was it? Ah, the last page. Richard slid the program out from the sheet protector and opened it.

Why was he always remembering that night? Why couldn't he forget the rapid music, the taste of cotton candy and the flashes of red?

Slender, callused hands gently brushed the worn old program, in his mind recalling the breath-taking music. Those mischievous hazel eyes entered his dream more often than not.

How many times had he begged Bruce to take him back to the gymnastic competitions? She was never there. He looked. Even the club manager could not find anyone in the records. It was as if the girl didn't exist.

As if she were a dream.

Knock. Knock.

"Dick. You awake? I have some time before work. I can take you to school since it's your first day. Or would you like to catch the bus? Either way, hurry and get ready."

Richard stared at the door. Bruce had some time today...maybe they could stop by Micky D's and get some breakfast. A Pop Tart and orange juice just didn't have the appeal it did when he was growing up.

A sausage McMuffin and coffee would really give this day a good start. The teenager scrambled from his bed and began sifting through his drawers, trying to find a clean pair of clothes. He frowned. The laundry hadn't been done. Dammit, why couldn't he have just washed the stuff when Bruce told him to?

So there really was a truth in the saying 'to be forewarned is to be fore-armed.' It was such a cool saying...but at the time when Bruce told him about it, laundry was the last thing on his mind. Maybe it was during finals last year? Yea, that was it. He stayed up all night studying for those exams.

Of course his hard work paid off...but in return he had caught the flu and was forced to stay inside for the first few days of winter vacation (the year it snowed so much and everyone in the neighborhood went sledding...everyone but him. ) Richard smiled at the memory as he stepped into the shower and began to clean himself off.

Going to a new school. There was a time when those words put fear into his heart. Over the years it seemed to have lost it's potency. He knew it wasn't Bruce's fault. He understood that his job required him to move around a lot. Nowadays, it seemed that Bruce no longer needed to travel so much for work.

So they decided to move from their Pennsylvania home and come down here, to this sunny beach side town. It had such strange name too. Jump City. As weird as the name was, Richard decided that he liked the small city.

It wasn't noisy like Chicago or New York and it definitely wasn't as dangerous as Gotham City, where Seline still lived. He could walk to the beach when he wanted and they were only a few hours from Universal Studios.

Yea, there wasn't really a down side to this small city yet.

oOoOo

The hallways were slowly filling with people as Richard entered the tall brick building. His eyes roamed the large walk-way, taking in the lockers, bulletin boards covered with school memos and school posters, the always present trophy case.

The school was very typical, Richard mused as he stopped to look at some of the schools's achievements. Baseball awards, football championships, photos of students who won basketball scholarships, more typical school paraphernalia.

What about art? What about music awards, painting awards or even dance? Well, there was one. Richard peered closer, eyes landing on the small certificate. First place in interpretive dance, huh. The teenager stared at the name.

Aruna Kapoor.

Such a unique name.

Richard shook his head as he shuffled down the hall, taking note of the homeroom class to which he had been assigned. The last room on the left. The teenager bit his lip and took a few nervous steps into the room, hoping to find a vacant seat somewhere in the back.

Vibrant blue eyes scanned the room, taking note of the groups of students milling around the desks, and the vibrant noisy atmosphere. Richard entered the room, made a bee line for the rear seat by the window, sat down calmly and peered out the window.

The view was nice from this side of the building. Somehow, Richard had the impression that the side of the school was as run down as the old brick walls suggested. The window looked out across the well manicured school lawn and pristine base ball field.

"Class settle down!" The light airy voice of the teacher drifted across the room, shattering Richard's contemplative mood.

He stared at the young woman behind the desk, noting her cheerful but serious smile. This teacher was the 'no nonsense' type. And judging from the way everyone quickly moved to a seat, the other students felt the same.

"Is Richard Grayson here?" The teacher asked, her light brown eyes roaming the class room.

The teenager raised his hand reluctantly, so much for blending in. His ice blue eye stared apprehensively, as the teacher stepped forward to his desk and placed several papers.

"This is your class schedule this semester. If there is any class you wish to add or remove, come by before or after home room. These are some forms for your parents or guardian to fill out. Jackson Hyde?"

Richard turned, and stared at the dark skinned teen who nonchalantly raised his hand. Such a serious look, Richard thought as their eyes met. The man looked really buff, with jet black dreadlocks and steely dark brown eyes.

"His schedule is the same as yours, so he will be showing you around until you get your bearings." The teacher strode back to her desk, high heels clicking professionally across the linoleum floor. "To those who have not made my acquaintance yet, my name is Mrs Keegan. It is my hope that this homeroom will have a wonderful year together."

Richard zoned out as he listened to Mrs Keegan speak about homeroom activities and fundraisers. A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he glanced back out the window. Why was this school so...typical? Weren't private schools supposed to be different? Other than the uniform, everything was the same.

Ice blue eyes grimaced as he stared down at his light brown slacks, ironed button down shirt and dark black blazer. Gosh, he even had to wear a tie! Richard pulled at the red-white striped tie, a look of despair on his face.

SLAM

Richard flinched as the door flew open and a young girl rushed in and darted to an empty seat in the front row. He stared in exasperation at her sloppy ponytail, rumpled blouse and skirt. Someone missed the alarm clock.

And why sit in the front row where everyone could see? Wasn't the teacher going to say anything? Richard chewed his lip, noting with curiosity the bright red converse. Was converse allowed at this school? Everyone only had dressy looking shoes here. The teen stared down at his dark black oxford shoes.

What he'd give for a pair of converse right now...A loud sigh escaped the boy's lips as the bell cut across his thoughts. Richard stood, throwing his backpack across his shoulders and scrutinizing his schedule.

First period-Trigonometry. And it was still eight in the morning. The teenager ambled slowly out the classroom, noting with curiosity that the girl who was late still sat in her chair, hunched over a small notebook and scribbling furiously.

Didn't she hear the bell?

oOoOo

Photography.

It was Richard's dream, and now he'd be able to showcase his skills. The last school he'd been at didn't have such clubs. Something about not enough 'funds'. Of course, there was always plenty of money to go around once football season started. The teen rolled his eyes.

Now if he could only find the classroom...

Ice blue eyes stared in confusion as the young man walked down the hallways. Why didn't he ask Jackson Hyde? Oh, right. Jackson was on the soccer team. And they had practice right after school. Richard sighed for the umpteenth time since school started. If he could only find this room, then it would be straight home and into bed.

Richard rounded the corner, his black shoes clicking down the tiled floor. He hated the way his shoes sounded on the floor. The well timed click as his heels connected against the shining linoleum. Crisp and professional. Like a businessman.

The very thing he despised.

The teen slowed his gait, now shuffling lazily down the halls. Somehow, it still didn't sound right. The slide was too loud, too crisp. The sound couldn't compare to his black high-top converse. Really, why was he even bothering with this?

An irritated sigh escaped the boy's lips as he rounded yet another corner. A muffled curse slipped from his mouth. Just how big was this building? How long would it take until he found the photography room? Or at least the end of the corridor? Would it be best to turn back now? At least now that he still knew how many turns he'd taken?

Richard stopped in the middle of the hallway, eyes staring at his watch. If he left now, he could still catch the bus before it left. He took a deep breath, shifting his dark blue book-bag and adjusting the straps. It would be best to call it quits, at least for today. Besides, add-drop ended on Friday. He still had a few more days to decide...and to find the dammed room.

Ice blue eyes slowly glanced back up, only to watch as a blur of white and red crashed into him.

Richard fell to the floor, blinking with astonishment as a bevy of papers floated down to the white linoleum floor. He cocked his head slightly, staring at the girl before him. She was the one who was late to homeroom. Why was she always rushing?

The teen scrambled to his knees, picked up the papers resting around him and tried to neatly stack them up. Maybe she would know where the photography room was?

"Um, you wouldn't happen to know where the photography club meets, would you?" Richard questioned, a slight hesitance in tone. He held out the now neat stack of papers towards the girl, waiting for an answer.

Silence greeted him.

The young man bit his lip and smiled sheepishly as the girl finally looked at him, a look of apology in her oddly familiar hazel eyes. "Do you know where the photography club meets?"

The girl took the papers from his hands, slid them into a forest green tote bag and smiled brightly. Her eyebrow rose slightly, and her lips scrunched thoughtfully, almost as if asking him to repeat his question.

Richard resisted the urge to sigh in annoyance. Was she hard of hearing or something? "The photography club. Where do they meet?" He spoke slower this time, hoping she'd know and help him out.

The young woman nodded quickly and pulled him to his feet. She spun him around, placed her slender hands on his wrists and lifted his left hand, then right and left again. The teenager stepped infront of him and held up three fingers, two fingers and then one finger.

Richard blinked. "So, left, right, left and it's room 321?" The teen hoped the young girl couldn't see the look of exasperation on his face...or the irritation in his eyes. Why couldn't she just say where the room was? What was up with all the gestures?

The girl nodded after a pause, hazel eyes twinkling oddly. Was that laughter in her eyes? Amusement? Or was it a look of lofty pride? The eyes of one filled with disdainful pride?

Richard really couldn't place it, that look. He continued watching her intently, eyeing the blue scuffed iPod nano she slid into her pocket and the black ear-buds she placed into her ears. Richard stared as she sauntered away, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why was she wearing track pants under her skirt?

"Um, thanks!" The young man called out, only half expecting a reply. Richard shook his head in defeat. Talking to her was hopeless. If the girl really was hard of hearing...with ear-buds in, she'd be deaf.

What do you think of the first scene? I wrote it while listening to "Time" one of the soundtrack pieces in Inception. You really must listen to it...and tell me if I gave it justice.

Well, what do you think? At least for a first chapter? I've never written a high-school story before...so please feel free to correct my inadequacies. Also, I seem to be modeling this private school like the ones overseas ('cause I can't get enough of Japanese dramas...) If such schools don't exist here, please disregard it.

Review!

~heartless16