I know, this one's kind of a filler, too, but it does have drama in it. Just work with me,guys!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Charlie and the plot.

Chapter 2
"Against my Will"

After screaming, painful hair styling, and forcibly being squeezed into a tight, purple tank and black cargo pants, I found myself standing behind the blue velour curtain, waiting to perform next.

"You nervous?" One of the two girls asked. As if she had to ask.

"No." I whispered sarcastically. "I've performed in front of the whole student body against my will many times before!"

She let out a silent chuckle. "Look, Charlie there's nothing to worry about. Gigi was our lead dancer, and she sucked. The audience is already expecting us to be bad."

I stared at her dubiously. "And that's supposed to help me how?"

"It means that you've got nothing to lose."

I could have had a great comeback, but my voice got dry as the students in front of us began finishing.

"Oh, heads up," she added. "There are...kind of two parts to our routine."

I turned my head toward her in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"Well," her face contorted into guilt. "For the first song, Gigi had us dance as her backup. But...for the next song..."

"What?"

The other group member finished her sentence. "The song after that is her own solo."

My heart sank in panic. Gigi never practiced a solo during her sessions. "Are you effing me? PLEASE tell me you're effing me!"

"I'm sorry! I forgot to tell you!"

"I don't know her solo!"

Before she could respond, one of the stage hands her already pushing us toward the stage. When I made an attempt to sprint off of the stage, the girls were always there to catch me.

"Stage fright?" the girl asked.

"What do you think?" I snapped at her. "How am I supposed to do a solo!"

"Well, it's kind of a modern ballet piece, so I figured you'd just... improvise." she squinted her eyes, as if she thought I was going to hit her.

I was actually considering doing so. "How in the hell do you expect me to improvise. Like I said before: I. Don't. DANCE!"

Before she could respond, the backlights started flickering, and the curtains parted, revealing a really big audience. After 2 seconds of staring at them, my panic started fading away, being replaced with need to just get this routine over with, and then run home.

Beep.

Beep.

Those were the first sounds of Mario's "Skippin" sent an electric shock through my body, causing me to move with every heartbeat-like beep. After a while the beep got faster and faster, breaking into heart-felt lyrics.

As soon as you came in, I offered you a drink

Better yet there's a bar at my crib, shawty, what ya think?

With every single dance move I did, the others followed it, with moves more subtle and light...almost as if they wanted me to have the spotlight.

Now I'm not falling in love with you

But I think that that you are hat, shawty

See all I wanna do is let you know

My dancing became sharper, faster... making me shocked that I was even able to move this fast. Eventually, the anxiety of the audience's opinion began to fade.

Baby girl, you got my heart ski-ski-skippin' just like-

The song suddenly stopped, putting my movement to a halt, and sending my confidence into a downward spiral. Time for my solo.

The girls walked off of opposite sides of the stage, despite my silent begging for them to stay on the stage.

One of them turned to me, gesturing to her right shoulder and her left hip. "The loose strings." she whispered. "Pull 'em." That was the last thing she said to me before throwing me in the shark tank.

Once the stage became drowned in a blue light, I finally realized what she meant. On the purple strap of my tank top, along with the top of my pants, was a thick, blue string. Hearing the song come up, I pulled them frantically, not knowing what they would do.

The strings released themselves from the garments easily, causing the pants and tank top to gracefully shed off me and fall to the wooden floor. In their place stood a beautiful one-shoulder, deep purple chiffon dress ending just below my knees, and accented with gemstones that reflected every lights hitting them.

The audience releasing their "WOOO"'s and "OW!"'s sent my once-lost confidence back up. Out of nowhere, the beginning piano portion of The Fray's "Never say Never" started going in my ears.

Picture, you're the queen of everything

Far as the eye can see, under your command

During the solo, I was gone.

It was as if someone besides me...someone who was actually good at ballet... was taking over my body. This someone could leaps in mid air, with her legs stretched out in perfect jeté position. This someone could do spin one foot a million times without getting dizzy. This someone took in all of the viewer's applaud, not with fear, but with gratitude. This someone...was exactly like my mom.

...My mom...

Don't let me go

Don't let me go

Don't let me go

The second that thought came into my head, my stomach felt like it was working my way up into my throat. My mom... I did the final pose, forcing a smile onto my face, and keeping tears from spilling out of my eyes. After constant screaming of the viewers, a few lifted themselves from their seat, and their idea spread throughout the entire room. A standing ovation...

.

.

.

"Oh my God, that was amazing, Charlie!" my fellow dancers greeted me with tight hugs. Them, along with every other stagehand and performer.

Of course, it only took one extremely annoying voice to ruin my buzz.

"YOU BITCH!"

Everyone turned around to spot Gigi, being pushed in a wheelchair by her BF Brad. She still had bloodstains on her skimpy excuse for a skirt, and her eyes, directed at me, reminded me of a rabid raccoon.

"Aren't you supposed to be on your way to the hospital?" her dancer asked.

She turned her head toward her, glaring. "Drop. Dead." Keeping her quiet, she pushed herself out of her chair, putting as little weight on her casted foot as possible. "You actually let this little...Asian slut steal my dance?"

Oh, Hell no. I told myself. She did NOT call me that.

I stepped toward her angrily. "What did you just call me?"

She pushed me backwards. "You heard me." She made a step, or rather a limp, forward. "If this fucks up my chances at getting into Hollywood Arts, you're dead!"

Her eyes contorted into panther-like slits. "Get off my stage... " she said slowly.

"...get away from my friends..." She bent her legs back in fighting position.

"... and GET OUT OF MY DRESS!" She lunged forward as if she was an alley cat pouncing on a rat. Luckily, people in front of me grabbed her, while she was screaming and had her arms flailing to get her dress back.

"I'm guessing this is a bad time." a deep voice behind me said. I turned around to see a 6-foot-something tall man who appeared to be in his mid-forties. His hair was a deep brunette, styled in a scruffy yet professional look, which matched his short, dark brown beard.

He faced me. "What is your name?"

"Ch-Charlotte Mckey." I stretched my hand out toward him. "And you are...?"

"Nate Ickner." He took my hand in a firm grasp. "Principal of Hollywood Arts High School. Have you heard of it?"

I really hoped he hadn't felt my hand shaking. "Yeah. Yes. Absolutely."

He smiled at my obvious nervousness. "You see, Miss McKey, I was in the audience during your dance solo..."

My heart started beating erraticaly.

"...and it's unquestionable that your talent and passion is amazing..."

My heart started going even faster.

"We could use a person like you at our school."

My heart stopped all together.

"HER?" Gigi screamed.

"Me?" I asked in complete shock.

Mr. Ickner chuckled. "Yes, you."

The look of amazement was permanently plastered onto my face. For sixteen years, I've been told so many times that I can't dance. That I was wasting my time dreaming about it. Now, I had people hugging me, and people offering me enrollment to elite schools now?

Wait, I thought. An hour ago, I thought that the people who went there were prissy prima-donnas. Would I be a hypocrite for going to the same school? Or worse: would I become as snobby as them?

Mr. Ickner was still waiting for my answer. "So... is it is a yes?"

Aww, screw it! I told myself.

"It is most definitely a yes!"

I promise, I'll have Victorious characters in the next chapter. Love you guys!