I found myself actually looking forward to dance classes over the next couple of weeks. Brittany was slowly becoming a really good friend. It was so easy to talk to her and with her chatting to me, I didn't feel like the new girl as much.

Of course, the others did keep staring warily at me. Every time I caught them I narrowed my eyes, challenging them to say something. It seemed to work because they looked away silently. God, these guys were pushovers. The Lima Heights girls would've torn me apart faster than jello by now. I was feeling kind of glad Dad sent me to a more expensive theatre school because none of those girls could afford to come here. I felt like I was getting soft.

It was scary.

If anyone from school saw me here they'd make my life hell. For a start, they'd call me a richie-bitch because I have enough money to actually attend classes. Lima Heights Adjacent students did not take too well to people with money. Anyone with a high enough income was ostracised because it was so uncommon there.

Second, if I was seen with my guard down for just one second, they'd pounce. Those bitches were animals. They'd smell panic a mile off. Here I was, a sitting duck, transformed into a pile of gushy, happy goo. I was utterly defenceless and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't be that mean in this building.

I felt safe. I'd begun to relax and let my guard down.

Brittany would run over and hug me as soon as I entered the studio, even if she was on the other side of the room. She was always there first, practising super hard. I wondered how she didn't collapse with exhaustion because she wasn't the most muscular girl in the world. The instructor would always walk in and interrupt our hug by starting the warm-up.

My eyes wandered all over her figure as she stretched. Her arms were lean and toned, as was her calves. Her thighs were firm and her ass was just the right size; not too big but not too flat either. Her stomach was slim with gentle abs that didn't scream: LOOK AT ME. It was more attractive than some dancers I'd seen who'd developed six-packs. That did totally not look good on girls. Six-packs were for guys and I definitely knew that for a fact. My vision ended up resting on her boobs which were perfectly rounded and proportionate to her body. You could've even said they were flawless.

Realising what I was doing, I shook my head firmly and tried to focus on my own limbering. "Stop staring at her tits you freaking lesbo" I'd thought "Just 'cause you don't like your own doesn't mean you can go window-shopping for your new pair."

While it was true that I wanted a boob-job, I wasn't entirely convinced that it was the only reason for me checking Britt out. I could've sworn I'd felt a tiny stirring in my lady-loins whenever she flashed her absent-minded smile.

Obviously I couldn't tell anyone about this. They'd totally think I'm completely crazy or get the wrong idea and think I'm gay. I didn't want anyone thinking I'm a lesbian, did I? I wasn't one, I'd slept with enough guys to prove that theory wrong. It was best to keep this on the down-low at least until I would realise that it was a momentary lapse of judgement. Well, I hoped I'd realise that.

I brushed this off for about a month, until one day Britt wasn't in the studio early. I was confused, wondering where the hell she could be because it was totally not like her to turn up to class at the normal time. I carried my backpack containing all of my dance clothes in the changing room and started to get dressed when I heard a tiny sniffle from the toilet stall. I knocked on the door and said "Britt?" hoping it wasn't her because I'd never seen her cry before and I'm crap at cheering people up. Sarcastic comments I could do, consolation I was kind of failing at.

"San? Is that you?" replied Brittany's familiar voice. Crap. She opened the door and pulled me in. She'd sat cross-legged on the top of the toilet seat, holding her phone in one hand. The other she used to dab her eyes with her sleeve. On her cell-phone's screen was a text message from Mrs. Pierce. As I looked down to try and read it I blushed because I realised that I was still only half dressed. My leotard was only rolled up to my waist and I was uncomfortably aware that my chest was only covered by my bra.

I hastily pulled the rest of my leotard up. "What's up?" I said nervously, putting a hand on her shoulder in what I hoped would be a comforting manner. "Mom just lost her job. We can't afford dance lessons anymore." Britt sobbed, a fresh wave of tears springing forth. I knelt down to make eye contact. "Look, I know it's a long shot but I'll do what I can. I can't let you leave me here, you belong here. Not me. You're my best friend and I won't let you lose this" I said, hoping desperately that I'd said the right thing.

It looked like I did, because she smiled a watery grin. "Really?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I promise that. I'm not just gonna walk away from my first proper best friend am I?" I meant every word of it. Seriously, in the month and a half I'd known her, we'd become so close I trusted her more than anyone else. I thought I'd known friendship but she came along and changed everything.

"Thank you Sanny" she squealed, leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek. I felt the place where her lips were heat up. "You're my best friend too, ya know."

With those words, she dried her eyes and left the cubicle, dragging me along by the hand. She deposited her phone in her bag and we entered the studio just in time. I tried to concentrate but all I could think of was how I was going to fix this.

Could I even fix this at all?