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Short author's note for a very long chapter!

You'll see why I couldn't end it early, though...hehehe...

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A Thousand Years - The Piano Guys (Fantastic arrangement by a fantastic group - check them out!)

Uprising - Muse

Amanda and Jacob were standing in the corridor when I came out, talking. They stopped when they saw me.

"Thanks for waiting," I said awkwardly. There was a lot of awkwardness today, it seemed. If it ever ends...

Amanda just nodded, but Jacob gave me a smile, "All good. It's lunchtime anyway."

Thank God, I thought. Walking and sitting hopefully shouldn't instigate any more falls...

We walked down a glass-walled stairwell to get down to the ground floor this time. No one spoke. Jacob was texting and Amanda just looked forward.

"So your name's Bella, right?" Jacob said as we emerged outside in the courtyard. Though it was still freezing, the sun shone down and groups of students were dotted here and there, chatting. My class, though their scarlet leotards were now covered up by cardigans and sports jackets, still seemed to dominate over everything as they crossed the courtyard to a set of double doors marked 'cafeteria'.

"Uh, yeah," I said, drawing my eyes away from the Royals. I looked up at him. "So you're Jacob? Jacob Black?"

He gave some sort of cross between a snort and a cough. He and Amanda had both stopped. "Uh, what?"

Oh crap... "Sorry," I said. "I just uh...got told he danced like you."

The not-Jacob-Black and Amanda shared a look. Even she looked kind of amused.

He looked back to me, "Well, thanks for the compliment, but I am nowhere near." He smiled and held out a hand. "I'm Seth."

I shook it, "Think I'll remember that now. Seth, not Jacob."

"Very flattering, though," Seth said, his gaze seemed to drift off for a second.

"But who is it, then?" I asked, frowning. My next choice would have been the bearded guy, Gerry...but he was Gerry. "I got told he was in your class."

Seth nodded, returning, "Yeah, he is."

"So, uh..." I looked over at the rest of the class, who had stopped by the fountain. "Which one is he?"

"He's not here yet," he said.

"But shouldn't he be in class?"

Another glance was exchanged. "He'll turn up sometime before the end of the week," Seth said.

"Or next week," Amanda said blankly. She started to walk toward the cafeteria. We followed along.

"He keeps to his own schedule," Seth said in reply to my unanswered question. "Pretty much does what he wants." This was seeming seriously improbable; Edward's arch rival didn't even attend class? How was he meant to match Edward, who spent every waking hour in the studio? Well, apart from when he's making out with Tanya.

Nothing more was said about it. The cafeteria was so different to Force's dining hall. There were no chandeliers, no dais for the teachers, who I assumed were eating elsewhere. There were certainly no tapestries. No ceiling decorated with heavenly paintings of angels dancing with their cavaliers.

Instead, like every room here, it was spacious and brightly lit. The floor to ceiling windows let the winter light flood in from the courtyard. The walls were white and adorned with block-mounted photos of more dancers. Everyone sat around circular tables, chatting and laughing loudly. Bags lay on the floor, people moved around. It wasn't formal dining. It looked like an ordinary school cafeteria, except everyone was super-slim and I doubted much of the talk was about the latest ice hockey scores.

Whilst I'd stopped to take in the room, Amanda and Seth had moved into the lunch queue and I ended up far behind them. By the time I'd grabbed my salad, they were already sitting at a big table by the windows with the eight others in the class. They weren't as energetic and loud as the students at the other tables. Instead, they looked like adults, talking quietly with each other, keeping to themselves. Royals. It continued to make sense.

There were no spare seats at their table, though. Not for me.

I ended up sitting at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, across from a boy and a girl who were in brown leotards. They looked at me kind of gormlessly when I asked if I could sit down. I saw them eyeing my leotard straps, not understanding, I guessed, how anyone with a non-regulation colour could exist. But they must have decided that I looked older than them and nodded.

I sat opposite to them and spent my time looking down at the lettuce on my plate. They soon forgot I was there and began talking again. Apparently they were 'dating', but the girl hadn't been spending enough time with the guy. There were a lot of silences between them. I heard the girl sniff. Cruelly, I almost felt like laughing. They thought they had relationship issues?

Try having a world class dancer for a boyfriend when you're two grades below him and can't even perform basic Pas de Deux choreography. And then throw in a scholarship to his enemy academy which you didn't bother to tell him about until his rich father turns up and demands to see you dance even though you're still recovering from an injury which your boyfriend's ex-partner gave you in front of a huge audience because she was jealous of a non-existent relationship between you and said boyfriend. But she's okay because when your scholarship got found out, she was the one to go and cheer up your boyfriend by making out with him just as you walked in the door to return a ring which he never would have given you if he'd known you were lying to him the whole time. So now you're miles away from him in a school which hates you because you've come from another school which hates you and everything's just so, freaking –

I slammed my fork down a little too loudly, startling the two kids. "Sorry," I muttered, grabbed my bag and fled, pushing past people without a care. I felt Leah's eyes appraising me as I passed their table and, gasping, burst out into the fresh air.

I wanted to scream. To catch my breath. To cry. But every wall was a freaking window!

I dug my nails into my bag strap, bit the inside of my cheek and set off across the courtyard and back into a corridor. There – a changing room.

I pushed through the door and into the cool, dark, windowless room. Thank God, I thought, and collapsed against the cold wall, sliding down to the ground. I pulled my knees to my chest and hid my face in the darkness.

This pain wasn't bearable, surely? How could I deal with this? How could I go on from here?

That final image of Edward standing in the window, his fist clenched, watching me...

Edward! I gripped my knees harder. No, no, no...I can't think like this...

But there was no way of stopping the pain. No way of stopping the tears staining my tights or the hatred I already felt for this school and these people. I don't want to be here, I thought helplessly. I don't want to be in this place!

The events of the day only added to my hysteria. I couldn't fit in here. I couldn't dance like the others. And they were never going to invite me into their group. I was always going to be an outsider here. Even when my class had turned against me at Force, I'd still had Alice. I'd still had Madame Cox. And I had known somewhere that I was going to get through it all because I had faith in my dancing. I knew I was good enough. But here? How could I ever match them, or even come close? There was no way this could ever work.

I have no other choice, though. I have to keep going...

\*\*/*/

And so I did.

There were two more classes after lunch – repertoire and partnering, neither of which I was looking forward to. Rep wasn't something First Years did at Force, but I knew that the Third Years had. It was learning segments of ballets that every dancer was expected know – Black Swan, Odette, Rose Adagio and the like. It wasn't just solo variations, though; corps and trios and quartets and pas de deuxs were meant to be taught as well.

But I knew only one variation – the Gamzatti. That wasn't going to get me far.

When I found the studio, there were only girls there, and they were already stepping into their red practice tutus and taking fans out of their bags.

I felt like groaning before I even walked in. The Act Three Kitri Variation from Don Quixote. It certainly was one of those classics; kind of overdone, but important and striking nonetheless. It was fast, short, hard and involved snapping a fan in and out and fluttering it around – as if the choreography wasn't difficult enough already.

At least I didn't have to embarrass myself again. Everyone else was so far ahead that they were sent off to practise and the teacher taught me the steps alone.

She was around Madame Cox's age, but without any of her rebellious or passionate traits. She was clear, though. That was all I could possibly ask for from any of these teachers.

After the bell rung, she gave me a list of what I would need for the remainder of the year – a classic tutu, a romantic tutu, a wrap skirt and, of course, the dreaded fan. All in red.

I arrived late to partnering – without any Royals to follow, I was stuck with a map and a building that was pretty much symmetrical and consequently incredibly confusing to navigate through. When I eventually spotted a red leotard in a window I was already fifteen minutes late.

I went in, ignoring the glances being exchanged between my classmates. The teacher, a middle-aged man who still had the toned muscles of a danseur, stopped the pianist only briefly. "You're the new student?" he said.

"Yes – " I stopped myself from saying 'sir'.

He gave me a quick once-over. "Have you partnered before?"

I nodded, "For the last few months."

The teacher gave a dissatisfied look, "That's not very long. Your teacher?"

I glanced at my class, "Carlisle Cullen."

"Hmm," he stroked his chin. "I suppose I'll have a lot to live up to, then."

Across the room, Leah gave a barely concealed snort.

"Thank you for volunteering, Leah," the teacher said. He turned back to me, "You can go with Seth. Leah, you're on spotting duty."

Leah gave Seth a punch on the shoulder and wandered up to the front. "Have fun, Force," she said to me with a facetious smile and patted me on the arm. I flinched away from her touch. She raised her eyebrow in challenge. I did nothing. Eventually, she flicked a piece of her fringe out of her eyes and went to stand next to the teacher.

"Alright, let's begin, shall we?" he said, rubbing his hands together. Seth didn't look at me as I took my place in front of him. "Today I want to look at three lifts – fish, butt sit and that modern one from Petite Mort that you guys have been bothering me about."

"Sweet!" I heard Gerry exclaim, bumping fists with the guy next to him. Everyone looked pleased. I had no idea what he meant by anything, except the fish. But even that turned out to be entirely different to anything I'd done at Force.

I'd missed the warm up, and so we were right into it before I could catch my breath.

"Alright, we'll start off with doing the combo from last term and see exactly what you're doing wrong. One by one! Let's go."

With no talk, everyone moved to the back and, with no argument about placing, slipped into a line.

"What do we do?" I whispered to Seth. Everyone turned and looked at me for a second, as if to just reaffirm my ignorance, and then turned back to watch the French girl – Adela, I had found out, was her name – and her partner set off across the studio floor.

"Just watch," Seth said to me. "Mark it out."

I tried. I fumbled along; doing pseudo copies of each girl's steps as they easily and too quickly crossed the floor. But it was the central move, the fish dive, which terrified me. It wasn't the basic lift and bend thing I'd been taught at Force. I watched Amanda and Gerry fluidly side step as one. Then, he put his hands on her waist and helped her star jump into the air. When she was at her highest point, he let go.

My breath froze in my lungs. She fell alone, from so high...

But then, as easily as if they were shaking hands, he caught her, wrapping an arm around her back thigh, another around her stomach and dipped her into a low fish dive.

"Okay," the teacher – Mister York, I'd heard someone say – clapped his hands. "See what I mean? You're losing the smoothness in the dip."

"Like chunky salsa?" Gerry asked, scratching his beard. Everyone groaned. He raised his eyebrows at Amanda, who blushed and looked away. Weirdly, I felt Seth stiffen at my side. I glanced up at him, but his face was blank. Odd...

Mister York promptly thwacked Gerry on the back of the head.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, laughing, then threw an arm round Amanda's shoulders. "Fine, I'll take my nachos elsewhere!" And he flounced off to the back of the line.

"As I was saying, the fluidity is lost when you come down from the catch. And it's your fault, boys...Leah?" She stepped forward. He expertly lifted her up and then easily caught her, "Now, notice I'm keeping my arms at the right length, keeping some distance. And..." He swung her back into a dive in one single motion. Leah stayed perfectly straight and graceful in his hands. "Got it?" he looked around the boys, who were nodding.

Seth, too, was looking confident. Mister York put Leah down and nodded to us, "Alright, let's see what you've got!"

At least with Mike, I knew that we were equally as bad...

The music started. Glissade, glissade, turn...this was okay – Seth's hands just rested on my waist the whole time. Okay...

We side stepped quickly, I bent my knees, he gripped my waist, and I was launched up into the air. My classmates' faces blurred.

And he lifted me into the air, as if I were a bird he was setting free...

And then he let go.

"You have no faith in us, do you? You never did."

"No!" I flung my arms down, grappling for anything to hold onto. Seth's hands slipped from where he'd been about to place them. My leg kicked and met his knee. We both fell to the ground.

"Shit!" Seth cursed, pushing himself away from me, a hand grasping his knee.

"Sorry," I gasped. My nails dug hard into my palms. What was wrong with me? Seth didn't reply – he just clutched his knee. "I'm so sorry..."

Amanda and Adela knelt down next to him, their faces full of concern. Gerry jogged out of the room, muttering something about ice.

I looked up at my classmates. They stared back down at me. There was no condescension anymore; it was more like repulsion. And it wasn't like Lauren and Megan on my first day at Force. These people had a right to be repulsed by me. I was an intruder in their group – their family. And I couldn't dance like them. I was just ruining everything.

"Right, now," Mister York said eventually. "Up you get."

Feeling like a criminal, I shakily stood. Mister York's eyes were full of pity. He patted me on the back, "I think you should just sit the rest of today out, yes?"

"Yes sir," I whispered. No one laughed at me this time. No one said a word.

"Now," Mister York cleared his throat. "Back in position, let's go."

Adela and Amanda helped Seth over to the opposite corner to where I sat myself, curling my knees up against my chest again. He was wincing. And it was my fault.

\*\*/*/

It was dark when I left through the polished glass doors of Aro Colaianni's. No one else was around – I'd deliberately stayed right to the end of dinner to avoid them. A light drizzle was falling, making the lights of cars reflect off the wet streets. I pulled my scarf a little tighter, making a pocket of warm air. I liked being alone. At least I couldn't hurt anyone else.

The sound of the traffic, though, was reassuringly normal. What did the people in those cars care if I couldn't execute a fish dive? If my feet kept sickling or if I didn't know every piece of classical choreography of the past two hundred years? They were just ordinary people, going home from work, going out to dinner, thinking about their deadlines and upcoming parties. What I was doing as a dancer...it seemed like the world, but, really, it wasn't.

But it's my world, I thought. It's all I want; all I have. And now it's crumbling...

It wasn't far to the boarding houses. I only needed to wheel my suitcase around the corner and down to the end of the block to find six identical white townhouses in a row. Each had a quaint garden in the front with rose bushes and small trees. Attached to the gates was a plaque the school's emblem and the year group. The last one was 'Class A'. Someone had tied a big red ribbon to one of the posts. Lights were on inside, making it even less inviting.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the gate and walked up the garden path to the door. I felt as if I should knock, but there was a swipe card unit on the frame. This is where I live from now on, I tried to remind myself. I grabbed my card from my bag. The door opened with a clunk.

Immediately, loud music and the smell of hairspray and deodorant assaulted me. I was in a narrow cream-painted corridor. Like every wall, it seemed, in Aro's, nailed to the walls were framed class photos. By the door, there were kids in pink and white, all posing in the splits, their arms in pretty little ovals above their heads. There were a lot more than eleven. The further down the corridor I got, the fewer faces there were. The colours changed, until eventually, by an open door, they were standing tall and poised in their royal scarlet, chins up, shoulders back. Classically perfect.

"I'm serious," I heard a voice over the music, coming from the open door. Leah – what a surprise! "It's like Aro's stuck his fountain pen in his brain! What was he thinking?"

"She won't survive here, L," was that Gerry? "Don't worry."

"Wonder what Jake will say."

Leah snickered, "You know him; wouldn't let his pretty knees get anywhere near her pointes."

"Someone's got to dance with her," I recognized Amanda's factual voice.

"I am not going there again," that was Seth. "At least she gave me an excuse not to."

"Does it still 'urt?"

"Margie said it'd be fine in a few days – just bruised."

"Go get a huge cast put on," Leah suggested. "Like Bridget in Class D. Robbie was your slave for weeks!"

"Hey, I didn't kick her!"

Ugh, I was sick of this! With a deep breath, I stepped into the doorway.

It was like the common room back at Force – couches and beanbags all turned toward a glowing heater. There was a coffee table with dance magazines on it, and several empty mugs. Everyone was sprawled over the three couches or sitting on the floor in stretches. Seth had his leg propped up on a cushion. They all looked up at me expectantly.

"Um," I started. "I was just wondering where my room was?"

Leah luxuriously stretch forward in the splits, her forehead to her knees, "This isn't your castle, Force; we don't have private chambers for every student."

"I know," I said, not that I did. "And I was in a dorm with nineteen other girls at Force."

"Sure, Force," Gerry said, throwing his arm on the back of the couch, behind Adela. "Unless you were, like, a First Year, that's bullshit."

"Just tell me where I'm sleeping," I huffed. My tiredness was testing my patience.

Leah and Bridget, the redhead, exchanged a look. With a final stretch, Leah stood up. Bridget followed suit, tossing her long red plait over her shoulder.

They brushed past me and out into the hallway. I hesitated in the doorway. "I'm sorry, Seth," I said quietly. "For what I did to your knee. It's just..." I looked down. "It's just partnering."

"Kind of a major component of ballet," Gerry said. "What do you want to be? Backstage?"

I gritted my teeth and looked back to Seth. "Sorry."

He gave me the hint of smile, "Accidents happen. Just don't call me Jacob again."

"Do you want a bed?" I heard Leah call from the stairs.

"Wait, what?" said one of the guys.

I turned and followed Leah and Bridget up the stairs, heaving my suitcase behind me. There was a burst of laughter from downstairs. I guessed that Seth had told everyone about my little slip up. If these guys were this bad, what was Jacob Black going to be like?

The second floor was just a short corridor with doors on either side. "Girls are on the left, guys on the right," Leah said, waiting for me to pull myself up the final few steps. "Bathrooms are the last door on the left. If ours is full, go in the guys'. They don't give."

She glanced at me, "Unless you're too prissy for that kinda thing."

I didn't say anything.

Leah opened a door halfway down and flicked on the lights. It was a medium sized room with three single beds, each with a desk by it. Two beds and desks stood on either side of a window. Both of their walls were covered with posters and photos, mostly of themselves. I could tell which one was Leah's straight away – one bedspread was pink with white polka dots, the other was screwed up, but I could vaguely make out Freddie Mercury's face above the black and gold lettering of 'We Will Rock You'. I sincerely doubted Leah was a pink kind of girl.

"That one's yours," Leah said, pointing to the bed by the door. It was covered with clothes. Quickly, Bridget picked them up in a heap and dumped them between their two beds.

She and Leah looked at each other contemplatively. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Leah said, and they both cracked up. "We're gonna get Feathers up here again!"

"Last time!"

I awkwardly stood there as they finished their laughter.

"Alright," Leah finally said. "That's it. You'd better not snore. And don't touch anything that isn't yours."

"Thanks," I muttered as they went out.

I shut the door closed behind them and fell back onto the plain white bedspread, my mind in turmoil and my body aching.

\*\*/*/

The days that followed were almost as bad as the first. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't even begin to keep up with the Royals. Even though the teachers were constantly correcting them and chastising them, to me they seemed almost flawless.

And so I went into every class knowing I was going to stick out like a sore thumb and probably make some embarrassing mistake, possibly many. I had become the class' entertainment. The Royals' fool. And they continued to treat me like it.

Every morning, I was the last to arrive at the cafeteria because there were only three girls' showers and there was no way I was going to use the guys' showers. Every evening, I was the last to leave. When I got back to the boarding house, they would almost inevitably all be in the sitting room, talking. I spent my evenings nursing my sore muscles and doing more homework than I'd done at normal school. With no social life, what else was there to do? At least if I failed in ballet, I would have incredibly good calculus skills.

By Sunday night, that thinking had grown into something awful. I am failing at ballet, I realized as I sat at my desk, flicking through a biology textbook. Everyone else was out at a skating rink or something, so I had the house to myself. I won't pass the end of year exams. And if I don't pass those exams then I'll never get into a company, and my ballet career will be over before it even begins.

I put the textbook down with a thump. But my academics? If, if I went back to school for the rest of the year, I would still be able to graduate. My grades were still good enough. Maybe not enough to gain a scholarship, but enough to get into college. And from there? The world would always need more scientists or doctors. A doctor? I could do that...

But it's not ballet, I thought, and let my imagination go no further.

It crept back in, though, at breakfast the next morning. The table in the corner I now permanently shared with the girl in the brown leotard. She was always with someone, recounting her drama of the previous day. The boyfriend hadn't been back since my first day. From what I'd heard, it had now escalated into a full blown war between the two groups of friends – guys versus girls, all fighting honourably for their queen or king. Today, one of the boys was there with her, playing messenger.

"You just have to understand, Jenna – he loves you, he's just wants to spend more time with you."

"I love him, too," Jenna sniffled. "But he doesn't get me. I mean, if he doesn't understand the restraints of my career then how can we ever have a relationship in the future?"

I had decided that they'd all been watching way too much reality TV. They were, what, Thirteen? 'I love you' was for parents and grandmas, not 'boyfriends'. The likelihood of them still being together when they reached the age when it could actually mean something was pretty small. Though, I thought, she is pretty good at the whole clinginess thing. Still, he'd probably cheat on her before then. Like Edward...

The bell rung and there was the scraping of hundreds of seats as everyone got ready to go. I slung my bag over my shoulder, threw away my fruit salad and followed the crowd out. I wondered if the drama of the ballet world ever ended – if one day, everyone just got down to it and danced. But then, that defied the art itself. Ballet was about passion; dancers were meant to be over passionate and dramatic.

But can I deal with that? I thought as I stepped out into the cold, grey morning. The courtyard was full of students on their way to class, chattering and laughing. I'm not exactly coping with everyone here.

But what about being a doctor? That wasn't creative or artistic – there were set guidelines and rules; there was science which wouldn't need to be questioned. And sure, there would be a bit of Grey's Anatomy drama but the majority of it would just be caring for patients and signing medical certificates. Maybe I could be a paediatrician and help children with actual issues, not just thirteen-year-old Jenna's romance troubles.

And I would be good at it. Science was my strong point; I wouldn't be fumbling around a dance studio not knowing what to do. I would just read my textbook and get on with it. It wouldn't cause me any pain or –

Suddenly, there was the roar of an engine. Everyone in the courtyard stopped, looking around. I saw a black blur in the ground floor windows, in the corridor. A motorbike? I heard a cheer from the middle of the courtyard where the Royals stood.

"Hell yeah!" Gerry shouted.

"I don't believe it," Danny murmured in awe.

The motorbike skidded around the corner of the corridor, the glass walls letting everyone see him. The one student who was in the corridor leapt into a stairwell as he roared past. With a ninety degree turn, he rode out the open doors and into the courtyard, skidding to a halt in front of the Royals.

"Jesus," Gerry said with a grin.

"Almost," the guy said, climbing off. He was tall and seriously muscular, even with his leather jacket on. His skin was tanned, his hair black and cropped. He was hot.

Really hot.

He pulled off his Raybans, revealing thickly lashed, dark brown eyes. He and Gerry clasped hands, "Finally back, huh?"

"Yeah," Leah said, strutting up as they pulled away. "Finally."

She looked at him with that terrifying fire in her eyes, but he just smirked, "You didn't miss me."

"Not a bit." And then she pulled her lips up to his. He chuckled and fastened his arms around her waist, pressing them closer together.

"Talk about PDA," Bridget said to the others.

With another chuckle, he broke it off. "So," he said, slinging an arm around Leah's shoulder and heading for the doors. "How is everyone?"

As I followed behind the babbling Royals, I watched the back of his head.

So this is Jacob Black...

*Deep breath*

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