Yellow Roses // Thomas Shelby

Chapter One

My mother died when I was 5, leaving my dad a window. I think they loved each other more than anything. I think that's why he put me in ballet. To be more feminine. He said I could be great.

Doc Shirley was originally based out of New York. But to his convenience, England wasn't racist towards him. They just didn't like us Sicilian Italians.

My father, Tony Vallelogna, has been firing for Doc ever since he got his career in being a pianist. He decided to start out in America, then try out the South. Safe to say, he lost a few teeth.

I, on the other hand, have been dancing since I can remember. I remember my mother took my to my first lesson with my instructor, Mrs. Keene, in New York. She taught me almost everything. Then Doc Shirley's mother took over my career.

Doc's mother always told me that my long legs were perfect for this kind of work. She always kept me thin, did things to my face so it would stay defined. She didn't want me looking like one of those Valley girls you see in California with puffy cheeks and big lips. She wanted my face more defined.

My dad walked me to my first ever English school. I had to wear this disgusting uniform that made me look like an old hag. The skirt wasn't how I liked it, it was above my ankles. I had to wear blue socks to mask how tall I was at such a young age. It's pathetic.

"Anybody gives you trouble, you pop em in the mouth, you hear me?" My dad told me as we arrived at the school. I rolled my eyes, making him lightly hit me on the side of the face. "Here me?"

"Yes sir." I told him. The headmaster looked at us funny, then took me inside the building. Her hands aggressively latched onto my shoulders, guiding me to the classroom. Hell, I think she was afraid I was gonna pop her in the mouth.

She opened the classroom door, showing me the teacher and students. Most of them were men. There were about three girls. They all had blonde hair and blue eyes. I had brown eyes and hair, along with lanky legs. They all looked me up and down.

"Everybody, this is Ms. Vallelonga, she is from America." The Headmaster said in front of the whole class. They didn't seem to care.

"She looks Italian to me, Miss!" A boy yelled from the back of the class. I spotted him immediately.

"Now, Mr. Shelby. I expect you to make sure Miss Natalia has a pleasant time." Her hands still grabbed at my shoulders, squeezing them exceptionally tight. "Now, I think there's a seat right there beside Thomas."

I rolled my shoulders, attempting to get loose from her death grip. She didn't budge a bit. It wasn't until I forcefully jerked my shoulders away from her, she let go. The backlash made her let out a noise in shock, then replace it with a smile.

I sat down beside the boy, looking at him for a second, then refocusing my gaze on the teacher. He had bright blue eyes that reminded me of the skies of the south. They were vibrant and full of life. I hadn't seen anything like it.

"Sorry for my brother, he can be quite the arse." He whispered to me as we got our textbooks out. I nodded. I'm guessing the boy who yelled I was Italian was his brother.

"I'm used to it." I told him as the teacher started talking again. His gaze still focused on me, watching me lean my head on the palm of my hand and read the words on the page. I hate school. All I really want to do is music and dance.

The teacher walked over to our desk, looking down at me. I didn't make eye contact with her. I didn't like her. From the way she judged me at the beginning of the class, I knew it was going to be a long year.

"You are supposed to read in pairs, Natalia." The teacher told me. I rolled my eyes.

"I think we'll both be happier if we do it ourselves." I looked up at her, narrowing my eyes.

"You will do as you're told." She looked over to the boy. "Mr. Shelby."

The boy turned to me, an innocent look on his face. "We don't have to read it. We can talk." He told me. I nodded, still reading the text in the book. I didn't have any interest in talking to him.

"Look, you don't have any friends here. Nobody wants to be alone." He told me. That made me look at him. I guess it would be wise to befriend him. I don't really plan on staying at this school for long.

"Ok." I said, turning my shoulders to face him a bit. He smiled even wider.

"Why'd you come to England? I'd do anything to go to America." He said casually, leaning into his chair. I nodded.

"My dad works for Doc Shirley. I had to come along with him." I said, avoiding eye contact with him. He nodded.

"Do you like it?" He asked. It made me think. I wish I was home. I wish we stayed in America.

"It's okay."

-

"One Two Three," those words were repeated at least five thousand times in the span of three hours. My feet were aching. My shoulders hurt. My head was about to explode. My dress was too tight. I was uncomfortable.

"You have to have grace, Natalia." The instructor told me. It was a private instructor that my father and Doc Shirley hired for me. He was a Russian Dancer. One of the finest. He was also one of the meanest. "Again."

I arched my foot again and bowed down, attempting to keep my balance. My left foot wobbled a bit, distracting my focus. I ignored it and attempted to spin in the air and land properly. I did, then the first step I took I fell. I was tired.

"Alright. Enough." Instructor Ivanov told me while telling the violinist to stop playing. I sat on my nine year old ass, tears threatening to burn out of my eyes at my mistake. I have a month to perfect this for Christmas. I can mess up.

"Your weight is slowing you down." He handed me a box of cigarettes. "Whenever you feel hungry at non-meal times, have this." He said. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, then got up. The lesson was over. Thank god.

I put my skirt on, then a thin jacket over my shoulders. My brother was late. Again. He never picked me up on time. I don't even think he knows what time to pick me up. I don't even know if he knows half of the things I do.

I walked out of the building, only to be knocked down again right as the door closed. I fell on my ass for the fiftieth time today. I was done with it.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there." That boy Thomas was the one who knocked into me. He got my jacket all messed up. "Natalia?"

"Wish you walked on." I said as I got up by myself, coincidentally walking in the same direction he was. He caught up to my pace, talking.

"Why don't you like me? I haven't done anything to upset you." He asked me. I rolled my eyes, looking at him, then back to the ground.

"Everybody I befriend has turned their back on me. I figured it's wise if I don't let it happen again." I told him. The tears from the building were still there, threatening to spill on my face. I have to be perfect.

"I promise I will never do anything to hurt you. If you call me your friend, of course." He smiled. I looked at him, then straight ahead.

"Why would you do that for me? You've known me for twelve hours." I retorted, not wanting to

"You're different." He deadpanned towards me.

"Fine."