(AN: This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has been picked on or ignored
for being different and for anyone who has danced, or is still dancing, at
the dance studio I describe here.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Shannon and Emma entered the studio and were greeted by the mildly stupid secretary---Pat.
"Good morning ladies," she called with feigned enthusiasm and a huge phony smile.
"Hi Pat," Shannon, flatly, replied.
Emma said nothing, allowing her mother to talk for her. Instead, she put her bag down on the chair closest to the stairs leading up to the classrooms. It was the same chair she had used everyday for all of the ten years she had been there. She exchanged her white sneakers and blue jeans for a pair of loose fitting black shorts and pink ballet slippers. Then she sat and watched the other members of her class trickle in.
She had learned a very long time ago that, if you were very quiet, you could learn a lot of things. It also helped that Emma had always had exceptional hearing and eyesight.
A little away from her chair was a small room. On the door was a sign that read "Do not enter---teacher's room." That was where the "staff" got changed and kept their things. The door was open and the "staff" members seemed all in a tizzy about something.
"Figures no one would tell me. I'm always the last to know," Emma, ruefully, thought as she sat to observe the staff and try to puzzle out what was going on.
There was Kim, the rather unintelligent red head who was the star of the studio and billed as the best dancer there. She was sitting at a small desk that was jammed into the room.
Next to her sat Danielle, a short dumpy looking dancer who was slovenly dressed.
Kim and Danielle seemed to be engaged in a conversation about Kim's boyfriend--- a married man whose daughter Kim taught acrobatics.
Across from Kim and Danielle sat two other "staff" members.
One was named Myra, a rail thin dancer with ratty hair. She looked like she had an eating disorder.
The other was named Andrea, a dark haired dancer with an unusually large head.
She and Myra were engaged in a conversation in Spanish.
Turning away from the "teacher's room," Emma caught a glimpse of the sixth member of her class. Coming in last, as usual, was Laura, a gothic looking girl with piercing all over her face.
Emma sighed and turned to her mother, who had just sat down next to her.
"What did Pat want?" she asked.
"Who knows," Shannon replied with a evil smirk, "She was going on and on about Michelle bringing in a visitor to watch the ballet class."
"That would explain why they're all in such a tizzy. I'll bet they think this will be their big break," Emma suggested, pointing an elbow toward the "teacher's room."
Shannon laughed as she tried to imagine the "staff" as a professional dance troupe. The image didn't seem to fit.
"Don't mind them, pixie. I'm sure you'd show them all up," she whispered to Emma.
"Sure," Emma said, "I bet the flock all over this guy and try to impress him. You know how they are."
Shannon nodded with a knowing smile.
"Besides, I don't want to be a professional dancer," Emma added.
Moments later, Michelle, the fat pig like owner of the studio strode in. She was followed in by her bulldog like mother.
"Good morning, girls," she called, in the fakest possible voice with the fakest possible smile plastered on her face.
She strode right past Emma and Shannon without even a glance and went into the "teacher's room," slamming the door behind her. Her mother took the seat next to Pat at the desk.
"Well that was rude," Shannon commented, as Michelle opened the door just a crack and invited Laura in.
"So, do you think she noticed us?" Emma asked her mother.
Shannon shook her head.
"Just as I suspected. I wonder where Spiro is," Emma wondered.
Spiro, the tall, Greek ballet and jazz instructor was the person in the entire studio who gave Emma the time of day. He was a bit of a perfectionist and came off as a very gruff and mean person. Emma, who took a private ballet lesson with him, knew he meant well.
"Come on ladies. I'm not going to wait all day," called a male voice from the top of the stairs.
"I guess Spiro's upstairs," Shannon commented, taking Emma's sweater, a purple zip-up hoodie, and kissing her on the cheek for luck.
"Guess so. Bye Mom!" Emma called as she darted up the stairs.
She didn't want to get into trouble with Spiro. When he was mad, he could get very vindictive.
(AN: The people at the dance studio, save Emma and Shannon, are all based on actual people I dance with. Their personalities are exactly as I describe them and, yes, I used their real names. There's a line in the movie "The Knight's Tale" that says something to the effect of "I will eviscerate you in fiction." Well, it seems I have! En garde!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Shannon and Emma entered the studio and were greeted by the mildly stupid secretary---Pat.
"Good morning ladies," she called with feigned enthusiasm and a huge phony smile.
"Hi Pat," Shannon, flatly, replied.
Emma said nothing, allowing her mother to talk for her. Instead, she put her bag down on the chair closest to the stairs leading up to the classrooms. It was the same chair she had used everyday for all of the ten years she had been there. She exchanged her white sneakers and blue jeans for a pair of loose fitting black shorts and pink ballet slippers. Then she sat and watched the other members of her class trickle in.
She had learned a very long time ago that, if you were very quiet, you could learn a lot of things. It also helped that Emma had always had exceptional hearing and eyesight.
A little away from her chair was a small room. On the door was a sign that read "Do not enter---teacher's room." That was where the "staff" got changed and kept their things. The door was open and the "staff" members seemed all in a tizzy about something.
"Figures no one would tell me. I'm always the last to know," Emma, ruefully, thought as she sat to observe the staff and try to puzzle out what was going on.
There was Kim, the rather unintelligent red head who was the star of the studio and billed as the best dancer there. She was sitting at a small desk that was jammed into the room.
Next to her sat Danielle, a short dumpy looking dancer who was slovenly dressed.
Kim and Danielle seemed to be engaged in a conversation about Kim's boyfriend--- a married man whose daughter Kim taught acrobatics.
Across from Kim and Danielle sat two other "staff" members.
One was named Myra, a rail thin dancer with ratty hair. She looked like she had an eating disorder.
The other was named Andrea, a dark haired dancer with an unusually large head.
She and Myra were engaged in a conversation in Spanish.
Turning away from the "teacher's room," Emma caught a glimpse of the sixth member of her class. Coming in last, as usual, was Laura, a gothic looking girl with piercing all over her face.
Emma sighed and turned to her mother, who had just sat down next to her.
"What did Pat want?" she asked.
"Who knows," Shannon replied with a evil smirk, "She was going on and on about Michelle bringing in a visitor to watch the ballet class."
"That would explain why they're all in such a tizzy. I'll bet they think this will be their big break," Emma suggested, pointing an elbow toward the "teacher's room."
Shannon laughed as she tried to imagine the "staff" as a professional dance troupe. The image didn't seem to fit.
"Don't mind them, pixie. I'm sure you'd show them all up," she whispered to Emma.
"Sure," Emma said, "I bet the flock all over this guy and try to impress him. You know how they are."
Shannon nodded with a knowing smile.
"Besides, I don't want to be a professional dancer," Emma added.
Moments later, Michelle, the fat pig like owner of the studio strode in. She was followed in by her bulldog like mother.
"Good morning, girls," she called, in the fakest possible voice with the fakest possible smile plastered on her face.
She strode right past Emma and Shannon without even a glance and went into the "teacher's room," slamming the door behind her. Her mother took the seat next to Pat at the desk.
"Well that was rude," Shannon commented, as Michelle opened the door just a crack and invited Laura in.
"So, do you think she noticed us?" Emma asked her mother.
Shannon shook her head.
"Just as I suspected. I wonder where Spiro is," Emma wondered.
Spiro, the tall, Greek ballet and jazz instructor was the person in the entire studio who gave Emma the time of day. He was a bit of a perfectionist and came off as a very gruff and mean person. Emma, who took a private ballet lesson with him, knew he meant well.
"Come on ladies. I'm not going to wait all day," called a male voice from the top of the stairs.
"I guess Spiro's upstairs," Shannon commented, taking Emma's sweater, a purple zip-up hoodie, and kissing her on the cheek for luck.
"Guess so. Bye Mom!" Emma called as she darted up the stairs.
She didn't want to get into trouble with Spiro. When he was mad, he could get very vindictive.
(AN: The people at the dance studio, save Emma and Shannon, are all based on actual people I dance with. Their personalities are exactly as I describe them and, yes, I used their real names. There's a line in the movie "The Knight's Tale" that says something to the effect of "I will eviscerate you in fiction." Well, it seems I have! En garde!)