So sorry about the long hiatus. I'm hoping to start updating this story regularly again, but as many of you know I've really gotten into Big Time Rush fanfic as well, and I've got another story in progress from that show (called Paralyzed—check it out!), so I'm making NO promises.
I would like to let you know I've always planned for this to be a very long story. Like 20+ chapters. And I do plan to finish it. So don't give up hope. Even if I leave this story for this long again (hopefully not!), I'll be back to finish it.
Enjoy chapter seven!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own iCarly or any of its characters.
Melanie's eyes snapped open as soon as her alarm started going off. She was tired, but she reached over to shut up the incessant beeping and immediately stood. The room was dark, and through the window it looked like dawn was still a ways away. It was—the clock read 5:30 AM.
This was not exactly what summer had been in years previous, even for Melanie. During the school year she woke up at this time, but in the summer she slept until 7:30. But now…it was so important for her to not waste a minute of her days. Especially since she had frivolously decided to spend her whole afternoon with Freddie yesterday. She had endlessly chastised herself for that during her evening workout yesterday. She had to work hard, or she'd never get a company contract.
Melanie glanced at her twin's still-sleeping form in the bed across the room. The room was really Sam's—Melanie hardly lived here after all. Still, it was obvious which twin inhabited which parts of the room. Sam's section was messy, covered in clothes and food wrappers and root beer bottles. Melanie's, meanwhile, was very neat and tucked in, with no traces of any food except for the empty water bottle on her bedside table.
Tiptoeing across the room, Melanie opened a dresser drawer as quietly as she could. Only being home for a few days, she'd already grown accustomed to moving around in a home where the other residents slept until very late. She pulled out her black camisole leotard and a pair of pink tights. After quickly changing and throwing on a cross-over sweater to keep warm in the chilly air, Melanie slunk out of the room, her toe shoes in hand.
The basement was her sanctuary. When she was younger, her mother had put wooden floors in the whole basement, and she had gotten Melanie a small barre for Christmas one year. The only mirror was a cheap full length one that Melanie had bought at WalMart.
She pressed play on her iPod speakers and simply closed her eyes for a moment to listen to the opening notes of the barre practice music that was first on the playlist. Then she slipped on her soft ballet slippers and set to plies and tendus.
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Two hours later, seven-thirty AM, and Melanie was in full ballet mode. Her cross-over was tossed in a corner with her ballet slippers, and now it was just her, center of the floor, in her toe shoes. Her pretty bun, which she was such an expert at assembling after years of practice, was starting to fall from its bobby-pinned perfection. Her face was gleaming with tiny droplets of sweat and her feet were screaming with blisters that came from her hours of practice every day.
Dance was so beautiful, wasn't it?
After a quick glance at the digital clock on the shelf, Melanie hit the play button on her iPod again. The classical music began once more and she started from the corner of the room.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she rose en pointe and tried to float her way out to the center of the room. And once there, a graceful arabesque, into a—
No. Melanie's eyes snapped open as she dropped her leg from the arabesque. That was where it was going wrong. She was thinking about it. That's what Madame Forester always said was wrong with her dancing. She got in her head and she would psych herself out.
It has to be perfect, Melanie ordered herself. So stop thinking.
The music played on and Melanie smashed the pause button with perhaps more force than necessary. No one here understood the stress of what she was going through. Her senior year was critical to her entire future. Sure she had danced Clara in The Nutcracker the previous Christmas, and Tinkerbell in Peter Pan the spring before that. That wouldn't really matter if she didn't get good roles her senior year. No company would hire her on. She'd never be a dancer. She had to get everything perfect. She had to be a perfect dancer.
Perfect. It was a nagging little voice that constantly whispered this in her ear. That voice forced her to turn towards the mirror.
Her leotard looked so snug against her frame. And her legs didn't appear as beautifully thin as they could be. Everything about her could always be improved. Why would any company hire her when there was someone younger, thinner, and more graceful waiting in the wings?
Stop, Melanie suddenly snapped at herself. She shut her eyes and turned away. Don't do it anymore, Mels…you're better now. With a sigh and a quick shake, Melanie restarted the music and restarted her routine.
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Carly was impatiently waiting on Sam's doorstep. She knocked one more time and then just let herself in using the key in the flower pot by the door. Sam had told her about it a long time ago in case of emergency, but Carly tended to abuse that power. Like on days such as today.
"Sam!" Carly groaned, walking into her best friend's bedroom. Sam was still asleep! "C'mon! It's ten in the morning!" Sam just muttered unintelligibly and rolled into a tighter ball. "Sam, you said you'd be at my house at nine-thirty."
"Oops," Carly heard Sam's tired voice say. Rolling her eyes, Carly pulled the covers right off of the petite blonde, who shouted loudly. "Carly!"
"Come on!" Carly said again, throwing the blankets across the room. "We have to have iCarly rehearsal for the show tonight!"
"And we have to have rehearsal in the morning?" Sam asked grumpily, rubbing her eyes but seemingly getting up. "God, she finally let me sleep in and instead here you come, inviting yourself into my house…" Sam trailed off as she realized something. "Wait. Melanie let me sleep in?"
Carly realized something too. "Why didn't she answer the door when I was knocking?"
Sam swung her legs out of her bed and was out the door of the room before Carly even knew what hit her. "Sam?" She followed her best friend out through the living room, where she opened the door to the stairway to the basement.
"Melanie?" Sam called down it.
"Yeah?" came Melanie's sweet voice in response. Sam sighed and immediately went down the stairs, Carly following.
Melanie was there, dressed in her ballet clothes, minus pointe shoes, and was stretching. "I just finished," Melanie said as Sam opened her mouth to say something. "I had to make up for missing rehearsing yesterday, so I did an extra hour."
"Fine," Sam snapped. "Did you eat breakfast?"
Melanie just nodded towards a small table where there was a banana peel and an apple core. Sam didn't seem satisfied.
"I'm making bacon," she said, turning around to go upstairs.
"I don't eat bacon, Sam," Melanie reminded her, stretching forward, her legs out in the side splits and her stomach now resting on the ground.
"I know, I'm making the bacon for me. Oatmeal, right?"
"Cinnamon on the side," Melanie agreed, turning to a left split and bending over frontways. She looked up at Carly. "Hi Carly!"
"Hey, Melanie," Carly said nicely as she went to follow Sam.
"Wait." Carly turned around as Melanie sat up straight again, still in the splits. "Can I…ask you something?"
"Sure, what?"
Melanie hesitated for a minute. "Is Freddie…seeing anyone?"
Carly was surprised for a minute but then shook her head and shrugged. "Um, no, I don't think so." She folded her arms and smiled, interested. "Why, do you like him?"
With a hesitant, fake-sounding laugh, Melanie shook her head. "Me? No, no way. I mean, of course he's cute, you know I think that much. I did go on that date with him last year. But like him? No, no way." Melanie bit her lip and reached backwards to grab her leg and pull it up in a stretch to make herself busy again.
"Uh huh," Carly hummed, sounding very skeptical in a pleased way. "Well, you know he's going to be hanging out with us today—you can join us."
"Sam doesn't like me hanging around you guys, remember?" Melanie reminded Carly, sounding only slightly bitter as she flipped herself around to stretch the other leg, and bent frontways again.
"Oh come on," Carly laughed, putting her hands on her hips. "You and Sam really need to try to get along. Don't you remember back in second grade and stuff when you two were best friends? We all hung out together." Carly smiled fondly. "I've always kind of missed that."
Melanie coughed nervously as she reached back and pulled her left leg up. "I do too. But…it's not really the same anymore, is it?"
She could hear Carly shuffle her feet. "Have you and Sam ever talked about it? Like really?" Carly finally asked. "Not that it's any of my business. She would never talk about it with me, but…you're the person who she really should talk about it with, aren't you?"
Melanie swung her legs out of the splits and sat instead criss-crossed, looking up at Carly. "No, Sam doesn't like to talk about it. And neither do I." She fiddled with her ballet skirt ribbons. "It just causes fights and I don't like to fight."
"But maybe—"
"Carly!" Melanie interjected, standing up and trying to smile peacefully at her sister's best friend—a girl who Melanie considered a close friend as well. "You know that I love you…but I don't think that you really understand this." Melanie shrugged sadly. "It's been so long…I don't think it would even matter if she and I tried to talk about it anymore. The time for that is long gone."
Carly nodded, smiling hesitantly at Melanie. "You're right. Sorry, it's none of my business."
Melanie smiled back, and linked arms with Carly. "Let's go upstairs. Sam's probably going to try and eat a whole package of bacon by herself." Giggling, the two girls left the basement and ran up the stairs.
