Allison Rose Black is a dancer. She has danced her whole life. She's gorgeous too, people stop on the street to stare at her innocent features. But despite her looks she's got a sharp tongue and a knack for pushing people away. But as long as your o...
I only have one more year then I'm done. And I couldn't be happier. I hop on the bus home.
It always stinks on here, all around me kids are laughing and squealing. They are picking there nose and trying to hide there slime and candy from the bus driver. I hate this.
My car, my baby, broke down. It had been an old car when it was passed down to me from my mom. We were lucky it lasted this long.
But finally it had given up.
I may have helped it along. I love my baby but it wasn't ideal that it would break down every two miles. And you couldn't start it without jump starting it. So I may have accidentally driven into a ditch.
In my defense, a rando smacked my butt on the way out of the store and I couldn't even get back at him cause he had ran off. So I was already mad at the time.
So when my car started to make those noses it makes before it breaks down I swearved a little bit.
But if you ask my mom there was an animal on the road.
If you ask me in front of my mom I will say there was an animal.
Me and my mom do not have a good relationship. We used too.
That was till she cheated on my father. Well stepfather. But I loved him like my real dad and now I never see him. He can't even look at me the same cause I just remind him of her.
Then to make matters worked she picked os up and moved up hallways across the country.
I hate her for it. She took me away from my home, my life. My dad.
I have dreams sometimes of being there. Living with him. Seeing my old friends.
But that was five years ago. They have all moved on and I'm rooted in the past.
Luckly moms never here. She can't sit still. She's always away for week sometimes months at a time.
I get off at my stop and walk up to my stale, plain, boring, no character house.
My mom calls it modern.
I call it sad.
I walk in taking off my shoes and walking upstairs to my room. It's the only room with some color.
The walls are painted pink and the ceilings covered in vines. I have posters up everywhere of everything. Things like my favorite shows, vampire diaries, teen wolf, and friends. I also have Spider-Man ones and and iron man one. I have one wall that's full of aesthetics pictures and one that's full of my past.
It has wrist bands from old county fairs and pictures of my and my step dad and me and my friends.
Me at my first dance.
Me riding my first bike.
Me at my first recital.
He was there for all of it.
But now he's gone. Still there. At Vally hills. I'm here halfway across the country.
I remember valley hills so well. It was a small town in Florida. 20 minutes away from the beach. There were tiny shops with Knick nacks and tourist attractions. Old fashion restaurants and drive in movie theaters.
Imagine the summer I turned pretty, the beach house. But instead of only a place for summer time it was a place where people grew up. Where people got old. And then they would die and a new family would move in doing it all over again.
I missed that place everyday.
I know I need to let go and move on. But it still feels like I left my heart back there in that place.
I miss the ocean. The salty air. Sunburns and surfing.
I miss my old dance studio most of all though.
It had a huge windows facing the beach.
I would go there when the sun was going down and watched my skin glow during the golden hour. I would dance there until it was early in the morning and I had to get home.
Dancing was the only thing from there that I was able to bring here.
Dancing was my home. It's how I found peace, here, in Colorado.
When I got up to my room I called one of my friends. There's gonna be a huge party tonight and we are meeting up at my house and a bunch of our friends.
I put on a simple light pink dress with matching heels.
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I curl my long hair and put on light glittery makeup. And winged eyeliner.
My friend texts me she's here and I run down stairs. Moms still away on her trip so I don't have to worry about curfew or making up excuses.
My mom hates parties. She wants me to be classy and polite. Her little ballerina. I hate it when she calls me that. Only dads aloud to say that.
I run up to my friends black mustang.
"Hey gurl! You look like a babe," Abigail says to me grinning. She's my only close friend here. We are mostly friends of convenience if anything. But I know she has my back and she knows I have hers.
She has dark brown hair and brown eyes. She has her hair thrown into an elegant up do and she's wearing a white dress with sleeves and almost goes down to her knees. She's hot enough to pull off being modest.
She's exactly what my mom wants me to be.
Valedictorian.
Going to Ivy League soon.
One of the top dancers in her class.
Conservative.
Polite.
Does not speak out.
I am none of those things. Besides the dance thing. I am the top dancer in my class. I don't say that trying to sound cocky, I've been told that I am. And I'm proud of that. I work my ass off that dance cause I love it. It's my passion.
