Your Pointe Is?

Chapter 1

"One and two and three..."
I unconsciously blocked out Miss Reava's monotonous voice while my muscle memory takes over and my mind drifts to the upcoming unexpected trip. It is has only been my third week of dancing with no experience to boot. I am seventeen years old and I have only danced for three weeks while the others have danced their way through life.

Miss Reava asked me to join this elite dance training week and... "Miss Amanda would you please just concentrate for three more minutes? I don't know where your mind is wandering today but you royally screwed that up and I promise you that.." ugh I can feel my concentration slipping again but I can't seem to focus and I have to suppress the urge to roll my eyes at her. Usually I can listen for hours at Miss Reava because she actually does have a beautiful voice but since she asked me to join the team for the training camp I can't think of anything else. The reason behind the unexpected trip is that "apparently" she can smell talent and "apparently" I reek of talent as disgusting as that might sound.

Finally class is dismissed and she calls me over with just a careless flick of the wrist. "Amanda I really don't know where your head wandered today but it was miles from my class." I try to put on the most innocent look on my face while looking at her from beneath my long, dark eyelashes hoping to soften her up. "I am really sorry, my mind was at your proposal for the camp still trying to figure out why you've asked me to join." This boot camp is only for the her fifteen elite students plus me and the rest of them except Clara is not too happy with the fact that it is indirectly expected of me to join them. 

I can see the confusion written on her face while she is trying to decipher what I just said. "Amanda as I said to you yesterday afternoon this camp would only be for your own good and you have nothing to lose so I can't understand why you are so torn up by it?" For the first time since I joined her dance academy she is a bit irritated about my indecisiveness. When I heard the insults Miss-oh-so-Popular at the back of the studio all but whispered to her subjects, as I like to call her three "besties", about my dancing abilities I impulsively agreed to go with them to the week-long ballet boot camp.

The moment Miss Reava's face lit up like a five year old on Christmas day I realized what I had done and a flash of complete horror crossed my face. "Good." Miss Reava muses while she slightly raises her eyebrows at my expression. "As I said this would be the perfect opportunity for me to evaluate your strengths and weaknesses and for you to learn to trust that beautiful but extremely rare talent of yours."