Many historical waves of dances were perceived as the "destructors" of the old way of dance. Examples of that can be found in the 1920's Charleston and the era of Rock music.

Movement never lies. It is a barometer telling the state of the soul's weather to all who can read it. ~Martha Graham (For anyone that doesn't know, Martha Graham is considered one of the founders of modern dance.)

The performance began with Christina's speech about Will. From my seat backstage, I listened to her recite his achievements and adventures. I didn't cry, the time for that had passed, but it struck a nerve. When her speech finished, the audience burst into applause. As the dancers took their places on stage, I could see that the speech had affected them in a positive way.

As the music started, I found myself watching Four. It wasn't because he was good at modern. It was the kind of watching a person does when they find the one person doing something different than everyone else. He wasn't bad, but I worried that the other dancers on stage would be able to tell that people would watch Four instead of them. That could really hurt an ego.

The show was flawless until my company finished their final dance. The audience applauded as usual, but, right at the moment when the applause are just about to die off, a voice yelled out.

"Get off the floor and learn to dance standing up!"

I didn't have to peek around the corner to know that Peter was the one who yelled.

The dancers left the stage as the lights dimmed. They scowled despite their successful performance. While waiting for the music to start again, which would signal their entrance for the final bows, they whispered about Peter.

"He's just an asshat," Lynn murmured. "The idiot was probably dropped on his head as a kid."

Christina whispered back, "Multiple times. I mean, there's no other way he could be so disrespectful."

The talking stopped and the music came back on. They raced onto the stage for their final bow. Smiles took the place of their scowls the moment the audience started clapping for them.

Peter then decided that being an asshat wasn't enough.

"Boo!" At first, it was only Peter yelling. A single voice among the roaring applause was insignificant, but the rest of his ballet pals decided to join in.

"Boo! That's not dancing. Learn to point your feet!" An entire row of the theater screamed. The smiles on the dancer's faces fell as the applause stopped and all that was left was the single row of asshats yelling rude comments. "Find another profession! This is so bad my eyes burn."

I noticed Christina turned her back to the audience. Her face was turning a light red as tears dripped down her cheeks.

A few rude spectators were not normally enough to make a dancer cry, but those rude spectators were insulting the dances that we had dedicated to Will. It hit the heart knowing that our last gift to him was ruined.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

An hour after the performance, everyone had wiped off their make up and the adrenaline had died off. People were ready to go home and put this entire night behind them.

"Peter isn't done yet, Tris," Four approached me as I was about to leave. "I don't know what he wants to do, but he's out for blood."

He won't do anything tonight. I sighed. Making a girl cry had to be a big blow to his conscious, right?

Four shook his head, "You don't understand. Can I take you home just to be safe? Even if you think it's ridiculous, can you handle it so that I don't go crazy worrying about what Peter might do?"

I shrugged, which Four took as a yes. I still wasn't in the mood to hang out with him, but I also didn't want to argue.

As we exited the building, I saw the strange lady that had approached me on the night I thought it was a good idea to get out of Caleb's car and walk home.

"Hello Four, Tris," the lady immediately walked up to us and greeted.

I simply nodded back, but Four spoke up. "What are you still doing here, Evelyn?"

I should have known Four was related to a whacko.

"I'm just congratulating my son on his performance," Evelyn smiled. "It was highly mediocre, by the way. Nowhere near the level you should be at." Her smile faded.

Four said, "These things take time."

Evelyn tsked. "I didn't think you would have so much trouble. My son, the prodigy, needs to take his time learning modern? Unacceptable."

There was no way I even dared to breathe. Evelyn stared Four down and, surprisingly, Four bowed his head. So much for his manly pride.

"I'll do it, okay? Please, just don't do anything drastic. Don't ask Peter to do any crazy things or Marcus and I too repeat what happened before," Four said. He was unable to keep the pleading tone out of his voice.

Ignoring him, Evelyn turned to me. "When do your stitches come out?"

Tomorrow, I wrote reluctantly. Irritated anger stirred inside of me. All I wanted were answers from Four about what was going on.

"So you'll be back on the dance floor?" Evelyn asked, but looked at Four as she spoke.

I nodded.

"Good, good," she said insincerely.

The smell of smoke reached my nose. Four and I looked up at the same time to see a section of the building on fire.

Gaping, I realized it was my apartment.

I wiped out my phone and called the fire department. When someone answered, I handed the phone to Four so he could talk.

This was fucking horrible.

My eyes wouldn't leave the bright fire. It filtered out of my window and disappeared into the night air. I couldn't see how bad it was, but I heard the fire alarms in the building go off. People surged out of the building all at once, most of them calling the fire department, too.

Four handed me my phone back. "Were did Evelyn go?"

Shrugging, I only glanced around for a second and gave up when I didn't see her. Evelyn was no longer a concern. Large dollar signs and piles of debt added up before my eyes. There was no way I could pay to replace the things in my apartment.

Damn it. I might have to live in a fucking box.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

I stayed up all night. The fire department quickly put out the fire, reported that no one was hurt, and said the fire had started in my kitchen. Apparently, I had left my oven on.

Four, however, believed otherwise. He was positive Peter had set the fire. The entire night, Four stayed by my side in complete silence. For a little while, I worried that he went mute, too. I nagged him to no end about going home. I smacked him; I shoved my notebook in his face; I unintentionally fell asleep for five minutes on his legs and woke up from a dream about attacking debt collectors. It turned out that I had been attacking Four.

At the crack of dawn, I was allowed to see the inside of my apartment. Except for the smell of smoke, my bedroom was relatively untouched along with my bathroom. My kitchen and living room were another story.

The kitchen was covered in a wave of black soot. Most of the appliances were melted in different areas and I was told that it would all have to be replaced. Any food I had was unusable and the walls were peeling horribly.

The living room's damage was less extreme, but still expensive because it was connected to the kitchen. My couch was nothing more than a lumpy soot rock. Finally, I couldn't stand being in there any longer and went outside to sit on the building's front steps.

"It's almost time to go get your stitches out," Four said as he sat next to me.

Wearily, I wrote: Don't you want to go home or something? You have rehearsal in a few hours.

"I don't think you should be left alone. Peter has proven that he'll go to extremes to hurt you," Four explained. I didn't bother to try and explain to Four, again, that the fire started in my oven. "Anyways, I might miss rehearsal today."

I bumped his shoulder. You're not a good enough dancer to miss rehearsals if you don't have to.

"After you get your stitches out, we'll have to stay extra late at the studio. You'll have to continue working on my modern while I catch you up on missed choreography. It'll be hard on our bodies. Taking today off will be a blessing for my body."

What are you going to do on your day off?

"Take you to the hospital so you can get out your stitches."

I never said you were taking me. Four gave me a withering look, so I added but I guess it's better than walking.

Thanks to Goalphabeticalorder, DivergentTributeTW, dauntlesspanem, Clatoforeverinmyheart, Jazz N Ballet 17 (Guest), Lindsay (Guest), teenwolfster, AwesomeTooAwesome, and ValeriaCarolina for reviewing the last chapter.