Casey rose up on releve, relishing the smooth pine floorboards under her feet as she prepared for a triple pirouette. It was a dream come true to be able to dance in her own bedroom—she couldn't believe that her mom and George had stripped out the carpet for her birthday. Now it was like a studio of her own in her room, what with the new ballet shoes, music speakers, and soundtracks that she had bought with her savings.

Not that she could hear her music, over all the metal coming from the adjacent room. Thankfully, she was feeling too focused right now to go yell at him. She had had three tests today, all in a row, and this was how she was getting over the stress. She had been so anxious studying during lunch that she hadn't even been able to rant to Paul.

Her music, which she could faintly hear over Derek's trash, struck a cord and she pushed up onto her left foot, arms in perfect form, spinning—once—twice—

On the third revolution, the 'music' blasting from Derek's room hit a crescendo and Casey lost the tempo of her own song. Her hands flew out to catch her fall, but most of her weight fell on her left knee.

Wooden floors were a lotmore painful than carpet. Casey winced and massaged her knee, before pushing her a few sweaty flyaway hairs out of her face and rising tentatively to her feet. Once she established that it could (barely) hold her weight, she limped through her open door and over to Derek's.

"Der-ek!" Casey shouted, yanking open the door with all her weight on her right foot.

His office-like desk chair revolved slowly, away from the glowing blue light of an internet gaming sight. When she could see his face, his eyebrow was cocked, sneer present as always, while his fingers arched together like the typical movie nemesis.

"What do you want, Space Case?" Derek's tone made it quite evident that his intrusion was not worth his time.

"I don't see why you insist upon keeping your music so loud that no one else in this house can hear their own music!"

"Oh puh-lease," he drawled, "As if you can call that chick shit music. Girls can't sing."

"And you call that Busting Benja—"

"Breaking Benjamin,Breaking," Derek interrupted. "If you're going to mock something, at least get the name right."

Casey threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "The point is, you have to turn down that trash. It's so loud I lost the beat of my music and fell!"

"Klutzilla strikes again, eh?" Despite his words, Derek spun back around in his chair and pulled up the iTunes tab, then ever-so-carefully turned it down two decibels. "Satisfied?"

"Der-EK!" Casey took a step forwards, forgetting about her knee, and winced when it rolled beneath her.

"Alright, Case, don't get your leotard all in a twist," Derek sneered, turning the speakers off, so there was blessed silence for what seemed like the first time in the years she'd lived with the Venturis.

Casey hopped on one foot over to his bed, where she collapsed. "I do not wear leotards." In fact, she was wearing blue sweats and a black sports bra, a workout outfit that she realized exposed a lot of skin. She sucked in her stomach while leaning over to inspect her knee, which was rapidly turning a mottled purple and black.

"So I noticed," muttered Derek. She shuddered in disgust; her step brother could be such a pig.

"Look princess," he started, "Are you going to get out of here or just set up your new castle here?"

"I'm going!" Casey stood and then found herself on the floor again, cradling her knee. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, trying to stand without grimacing. No need for Derek to see her actually looking weak.

But a moment later she found herself cradled against her step brother's chest while he scooped her up, turning sideways to fit through the narrow doorway. "Wrap your arms around my neck," he commanded. "I don't want to drop you."

"Ew!" Casey exclaimed. "That's disgusting, I'm not one of your blonde bimbos, put me down!" Besides the fact that he was her awful stepbrother, she had danced for over an hour—she did not smell good enough to lift her arms up.

Squirming, she tried to pull out of Derek's arms, but he was holding her too tightly. "Not a chance Case."

"Derek, since this wasn't directly your fault this time, I'm not going to get you in trouble with my mom and George. So just let me down, okay?"

"Your wish is my command, princess."

With that he deposited her—gently, not by way of dropping, as she had expected—onto her own bed, then lifted her right leg gently (she still winced with a twinge of pain) to place one of her pillows underneath it.

What? Was Derek actually being nice?

"Look Derek, what are you trying to get from me?" Casey demanded. "There's nothing in my room you want, and you're not getting my gratitude."

"I just…thought it was time to be a little nicer. Like a guy should treat a girl."

"Oh," she said, trying to think what he might be planning against her.

"Rest up, okay Case? Your recital's coming up." With that, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

She stared up at him in confusion.

WHAT?

Derek seemed a little mystified as well, before his typical sneer came back.

"–Wouldn't want you to be even more of a disaster than usual."

Back to normal.