Hello again! Thank you for the reviews! (: And just to warn you— Alice is a little OCC in this chapter, at least in the beginning. (; And I'm no ballet expert. Seriously— I have a tab opened on ballet terms, and youtube to see the ballet moves. :p So bare with me! Also, this is very random, but I am really upset that netflix took Tangled off their list thing! All the movies on netflix are horrible, but I love Tangled. So, I'm upset. :( Back to about this story. This chapter explores more of Alice's relationship with her parents, even though the prologue had already went into detail. :p Alice might seem a little OCC, but she's is a little bit more awkward than her true character portrayed in the books and movies. She doesn't have many friends, and doesn't socialize easily with other people, since all she does is ballet. Of course, I won't make her a totally different character, just a person who keeps to herself and only opens up around people she's really close too. Or when she's excited. Definitely when she's excited. Her awkward personality is nothing like Bella's though. Just hasn't ever had the chance to socialize that much outside her family. Her life resolves around ballet, and family. School is just something she has to do everyday, which means that she doesn't really even try to have friends. So, making her a little awkward Alice. (; When she feels like she has to do something, she'll do it. She's not afraid, just of the consequences. Which is basically saying that she's afraid. I'm just trying to explain Alice's character a little bit more. Bottom line is, that her character is a little different, and it might bother some of you people who hold Alice dear to your hearts. :p I'm just trying to help, if you couldn't tell. And Alice's Mom is a lot different from the last chapter. Once she realized that Alice's life resolves around Ballet, she knew that Alice wouldn't have many friends and wouldn't want to experience a lot of high school activities. So, she decided to become a fun and cool mom, wanting to make sure that Alice was going to be a little bit more normal. (: Also, this has nothing to do with my rambling— I think I'm going to update this story once a week, I have tons of homework, the school year is almost coming to a end. I was planning to dedicate this whole weekend to this story, but my amazing English teacher decided to give us a book report that's due next Thursday. And due to my procrastinating habit, I have to start brainstorming tomorrow. So, I'm focusing my Friday night on this chapter of this story. And thank you so much for the reviews again! I really appreciate it! ... Well, enjoy the second chapter of The Fairy Dance!
- Forget me knott
declaimer: I don't own twilight.

10 years later

Dear Miss Mary Alice Brandon:

I scowled when I saw the use of my full name, but continued reading.

We regret to inform you that you are not accepted into the Academy of Classical Ballet in California.

I crumbled the paper into a ball, and threw it across the room, aiming for the trashcan. I missed.

I leaned back into my chair, and sighed. Thankfully my parents weren't home, or I would of been flooded with their concern. I'm Alice Brandon, enthusiasm and optimism is just what I'm known for. Everyone smiles when I come into the room, or dance, as I am told. I make everyone happy with my smile. Every move I make, it's with grace and innocence.

At least that's what my parents tell me.

They wouldn't believe any of that if they saw me now. A scowl appeared on my face as I glared across the room at the crumpled paper. I was being melodramatic, I knew that. But I had a good to be.

Once I realized my dream of being in the New York City Ballet wasn't too far from being reality and that it could really happen, I decided to audition at five ballet academies, hoping to at least get accepted into one. So far, I've gotten four letters back, all rejections. I auditioned at Bolshoi Ballet Academy first, and got a rejection a week later. They did however put me on the waiting list, but that was six months ago. Then I auditioned at Bayer Ballet Academy, Denver Academy of Ballet, Academy of Classical Ballet, and then The School of American Ballet. I remembered my audition for the Academy of Classical Ballet in California perfectly. I wore a plain black leotard with pink tights, but I wore my gold pointe shoes for good luck, which didn't work. I thought I was golden—no pun intended— the audition was one of the best out of the five I did. My pirouettes were beautiful, all three of them. At least that was what my Mom told me, but I believed it. And a little part of me right now still believes it.

After a few more moments of pondering about my audition, wondering what about it went wrong, and I then realized it.

It was because of my height.

Crawling off my bed and over to the mirror, I looked at my reflection. I have every single quality for a dancer, all except one. I leaned against my wall, where my poka dot height chart was currently taped to the wall. 4'10", the same as it has been since I was 13. I pouted instantly, and then realized that the height chart was an object, not a living thing that I could wrap around my finger. My height is a problem. A huge problem.

Due to my short height, my legs weren't long and slim, a quality that most dancers have. I couldn't stretch far enough when I did leaps and jumps, which is a huge problem. They took note of that at my auditions, and my audition suffered from that unfortunate problem that I can not fix. I frowned into the mirror and turned away from it. I couldn't look for too long— I would get upset.

Walking to my closet, I pulled out the one thing that could comfort me right now. Out of my many colorful pointe shoes, I pulled out my favorite, my very bright canary yellow pointe shoes. I rarely used them— simply because they were just so bright, but that's why they were my favorite. I danced with them on when I was upset, like the brightness of the beautiful shoes could chase my sadness away.

Just holding them in my hand made me feel a little better. Putting them on however, made me a thousand times better. The floor of my bedroom was very different from the floor in the ballet studio, but I didn't mind. My room is pretty big, so I had room to dance. And did I dance.

I put all of my frustration out in my dancing. Pirouette after Pirouette I did, which eventually turned into Fouettes. My door being opened scared me, and made me fall on my bed. I looked up, and saw my Mom's concerned eyes looking down on me. She either heard about my rejection from the Academy of Classical Ballet, or she noticed my canary yellow pointe shoes I was wearing.

"I heard about the rejection Alice." My mom embraced me, and starting saying soothing words to me.

"It's fine Mom!" I told her, a smile on my face. "There is still one more!" I reassured her. But I was trying to reassure myself more than her.

My chances were incredibly low for The School of American Ballet. It was one of the best in the country, and it was the one that was connected to the New York City Ballet. If you wanted to pursue a career in ballet, you had to go to The School of American Ballet. My audition for The School of American Ballet was the best out of the four other auditions, I even wore my favorite canary yellow pointe shoes for it.

"That's my Alice!" She grinned at me, pulling me out of my room and down the stairs. I didn't know where I got my height from— my Mom is 5'4" and my Dad is 5'8"— and my Mom isn't a small woman either, so she easily pulled me down the stairs. She didn't even give me a chance to take my pointe shoes off. I wouldn't have anyways, they provide me comfort, as silly as that sounds. My Mom's voice brought me back from my thoughts. "We can have a girl's night!" She exclaimed excitedly, now pulling me towards the living room. "We can eat popcorn and nutella." A grin appeared on my face, this time a real one. "And we can watch all your favorite movies!" She beamed with excitement, almost jumping up and down excitedly. I know who I got my craziness from. I thought fondly of my crazy and loving mother, who flopped me down on the couch and was in the kitchen making popcorn.

A lot of normal teenage girls describe their Moms as lame, but mine is my best friend. I don't even remember the last time I had someone that I could of called a friend. We do everything together, go on shopping sprees, salons, the movies, and just the girly kind of stuff you usually do with people your own age. My Mom is like a mature teenager that knows how to have fun, basically a cool mom. In other words, she is truly my best friend.

The beeping of the microwave brought my attention back to reality, and I watched as my mom pulled out the popcorn, put it into a bowl, and poured some salt over it. She started pulling out the Dr. Pepper and nutella, so I decided to go over to the shelf and pick out the movies that we were going to watch. Skipping my ballet movies, I moved to the Disney ones. I pulled out Mulan and Tangled. I personally don't like Cinderella and Snow White—no plot line at all. And the kind of movies that make me want to puke. I also pulled out a couple of Harry Potter movies, I really didn't notice which ones I grabbed. All of them were amazing in my opinion.

"I should expected that you would pull out the Harry Potter movies." My Mom grumbled. She didn't like the Harry Potter movies, because they were too long and boring for her and the characters weren't hot. Even though she was complaining, she had a smile on her face. A smile came onto mine once I noticed the popcorn and nutella in her hands, and the two cups of Dr. Pepper on the table. She was truly my best friend. She popped a disc into the dvd player, and sat down in the red chair next to the couch I was curled up in, eating my popcorn. After watching the advertisements for a few minutes, I realized that she put in Mulan—not Harry Potter. I didn't mind— I appreciated her concern for me.

My attention was focused on the movie, watching the scene with Mulan and the matchmaker. I was shoving popcorn in my mouth again when I realized my Mom was talking to me.

It was her Mom side that was talking to me, not her silly teenager side that I could make me spill all of my secrets to her, about my current crushes and things that were troubling me at school. "You will never bring dishonor to our family, no matter what you do." She told me, thinking that was bothering me. It wasn't—but I again appreciated her concern. It never really stops.

I laughed, which made my Mom immediately grin. My parents always told me that my laugh sounded like bells, and they were completely in love with it. Apparently when I was little, they took every chance to make me laugh. "This isn't in ancient China Mom." I reassured her. "I'm not going to go to a matchmaker, be rejected, and bring dishonor to our family." I laughed just thinking about the idea.

"I couldn't see you at a matchmaker." My Mom giggled at me, throwing her head back with laughter. "You're too independent for your own good." She told me, turning her attention back to the movie, watching the scene of Mulan singing "Reflection". It was one of my favorite parts in the whole movie, hearing Mulan's beautiful voice, but I could not leave my Mom's statement without a response.

I stuck my tongue out on her, and started to defend myself. "Standing up for myself doesn't make me independent." I told her, leaning back into the couch, and my attention was back onto the screen. My Mom didn't answer, but her snort gave me her answer to my response. The scene a little bit after Mulan singing "Reflection" was one of my other favorite scenes in the movie. Really the whole movie was amazing, but that wasn't the point. The scene when Mulan decided to join the army in her father's place always motivated me to go do something. Not join the army, of course not, but just do something, to help people. But my motivation usually always seemed to disappear the next day, completely forgetting about it.

It was silent for the next few minutes—that was actually 20, but felt like five— with only the movie being heard and my Mom's side comments about the movie. Like for example, how hot Shang was for a Disney character. I tuned her out after she started talking about his singing voice. I love her, but a lot of the things she says can be really creepy.

I admired Mulan. She is my favorite disney "princess", even though she technically wasn't one. A lot of the princesses are damsels in distress, waiting for their princes, and don't have much of a personality. My favorites are Mulan, Rapunzel, and Belle. While I can tolerate Ariel, Jasmine, and Pocahontas. Even though the the sequel to Pocahontas is absolutely horrible, but I don't count that as part of Pocahontas. However Mulan, isn't saved by anyone. Unlike the princes that usually come to the princesses rescue, Mulan does it all. She saves all of China, and doesn't let anyone get in her way. I always pictured myself as Mulan when I was younger, making little forts making it look like the great wall of China, and made paper swords. I stopped the little Mulan game once I found ballet.

The door opening took my attention from the screen, and I noticed it was my Dad. He yelled out a greeting, hanged up his coat on a hanger, and joined my Mom on the small chair. "Small" meaning that it was only meant for one person, but they both looked pretty comfy. A few minutes past, and a envelope was placed on my lap. I looked up, noticing my parents were right in front of me, an excited expression on their faces.

Holding the letter in my trembling hands, I read the words The School of Academy Ballet, but made no motion to open it. My whole dream was held in my hands, and I was about to find out if it was going to come true or not. I didn't expect it to come so early, making my confidence and self-esteem already low, which made me nervous. My parents made no sound of encouragement, which was what I needed, no pressure. I took a breath, and started to open the letter.

Unlike the other letters, which I opened quickly and ripped it, I took my time opening this one. My nerves were going crazy, and my trembling hands lost control, making the envelope rip, and the letter—and surprisingly, a pamphlet— fall out. My parents picked it up, and started reading them. My Mom had my letter, my Dad had the pamphlet.

My Mom squealing brought my attention to her, she was jumping up and down. I didn't even read it yet, but a smile appeared on my face. I took the letter from her quickly. I dropped it out of shock after I read what I needed to read.

Dear Miss Mary Alice Brandon:

We are happy to announce that you are accepted into the 2012-2013 year at The School of Academy Ballet in New York City, New York.

Eh, kinda corny ending, and weird. :l But I really don't know how to type an acceptance letter, or rejection letter. This chapter is a little messy, not the best, but certainly not the worst. I'll update soon!
- Forget me knott