Chapter Two;
Once More, With Feeling

Holly Given had mastered walking on her hands a long time ago. She just did it for fun now.

Kicking her legs one last time, she landed back on her feet and stood up, brushing her hands on her track pants and sitting down on her bed. It was late at night, well after her grandparents called it quits and went to bed, but Holly couldn't sleep. Today was the day she learned that everything she knew was about to go up in smoke.

At twenty-four she knew she should be going out on her own, facing her future, but everything was just so big and scary, plus all the excuses seemed to be working so why stop? She could say she never had a proper education; her life disrupted by death and disaster, her upbringing a mess of new homes and a different family member every second week. That mum had gone and daddy just never loved her. But the truth was that 9 to 5 was something that flat out terrified Holly. She was a free spirit, the girl that sat in the park and stared at trees, not the one sitting behind a desk answering phones for some hotshot lawyer. She'd never really find peace in further education and knowledge – at least not the kind of peace she felt when she was just sitting in her room watching music videos and trying to copy the moves.

And for the last twelve years she'd had that, the safety net of her grandparent's home in Seattle, but that was gone now she was back in the care of her father, the number one mess in her life.

Dear old dad had been an Army man once, her childhood spent bouncing around the country in Army-issue homes as he went off to different countries and worlds that Holly couldn't even get her little head around, but that had all gone when Holly's mother was killed in a car accident when Holly was just eight. After that her father couldn't handle Army life, took two years service leave to regather himself and try and make sense of the whole thing, but he was never the same. He went back to war, back to Afghanistan, and got caught up in one thing threatening soldiers overseas everyday – the very easy to access drug trade. Her father found heroin made the pain of losing his wife go away. Two years later, no longer able to control his addiction, he snapped and revealed what he'd done. He was marshalled, dismissed from the Army, and sent back into a world he too couldn't handle. The Defence Force had been his life and now, no support and no education, he was useless in normal America.

And then there was that drug addiction and a twelve-year-old daughter to deal with. He dumped her on her grandparents and ran off, not to be seen again. Now he was back after a short stint in jail and a rehabilitation program. He was clean and according to the courts he could have his daughter back in his care if that was what she wanted.

It wasn't, but as a dependant what else could she do?

That was when she'd seen the advertisement on the Internet – auditions for a new dance teacher at a Philadelphia dance academy. The best bit: no formal education required.

Holly was a dancer through and through, living and breathing dance moves and making every situation in her life a musical, but she'd never had the money or time for formal training. The extent of her dancing lessons started and stopped at copying what people did in music videos. She learned hip-hop, tango and everything in between from watching back-up dancers and musicians, doing what they did on the living room floor instead of studying. And she had a knack for it too. She had the inner rhythm, something you could never really learn, and picked up every move after the second or third time at the latest. She could master and remember whole dance routines in under a day. She was built to dance.

And now she had the money, the time and the reason to do it, there was nothing to hold her back.

The same night she sent in a request for a try-out, she also booked her train ticket to Philadelphia.

…

He hadn't expected to find his answers in somewhere like, god forbid, Pennsylvania. For him Philadelphia in his life was confined to history lessons regarding the Declaration of Independence and the source of his favourite Subway sub topping, not the place where he could find a career. He'd dreamed once, long ago, of making it big on the streets of New York, a big name in big lights, but then who didn't? New York was filled with had-beens, coulda-beens and still-yet-to-bes. Moose just fit somewhere in the middle. Had been someone, couldn't be someone yet, and who knew where he was going anyway?

He'd approached his dance professor a few days earlier regarding any positions in the city, anything he could get his head around, but all dance positions in academies across the city were looking for years of experience, shining accolades and a penchant for salsa or tango. It seemed Latin dance was sweeping NYC in a fad growing faster than vampires even. So he set his sights on out of town.

He hadn't intended to go as far as Philly though.

"Philadelphia?" His dance classmate Erin had raised an eyebrow when he told her. Coming from a Latin American family herself she'd already taken up a position in a local dance school, but things weren't so simple for Moose, even if he could tango to save himself, he certainly wasn't good enough to teach. "Why the hell would ANYONE with NYU training want to go to Philadelphia?"

"Because it's a dance academy for all disciplines." He shoved the printout in her hand. "Hip hop, Bollywood, tutting, popping, heck even basic jazz ballet."

"You know I'm picturing you in a tutu right now right?" He frowned and she held up a hand. "Okay, fine, I understand, but still it's a long way to go for a job. There'll be new jobs opening in the autumn, why not just wait until then?"

"Because I'm not going to spend summer mooching off Camille, I do that enough already." He snatched the printout back and shoved it in his pocket. "Now I just have to tell her."

Erin lowered an eyebrow. "Hold up, you haven't told her yet?" Moose tried not to look guilty. "Oh god Moose, you told me before you told her?" She tied her long dark hair up into a ponytail. "That's going to go down well."

"I only told you because I thought you'd help me work out what to say. I figure you're good with words since you never shut up."

Erin smirked. "Funny. Try that approach and see how it ends. If I walk past her apartment and find her hanging you off the balcony I'll be sure to call the fire brigade."

"Erin!"

"Fine, look, Camille's cool, just tell her what you told me – it's the only hope you've got seeing as you're not much of a dancer." He punched her softly in the arm then started off. "You're welcome!"