Dancing with Rosalind

Chapter One

Welcome to the story.

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The truth was, no one could dance the way Rosalind could. Not a soul on Earth could twirl as fantastically, leap as gracefully, or even bow as enchantingly as she. Her gift of movement was as grand as her gift of beauty, yet with them came the curse of isolation. Every house she moved into became cursed land, never to be marked Home. This is why, when her husband abandoned her after suspicions of infidelity, she was chased out of town.

This would be only the first misery in a lifetime of miseries for our dear dancer Rosalind.

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This must have been the fourth time I revised the first chapter of my novel. I was never satisfied with the small, simple details that I believed told the story. There was something about the beginning that made it the most mesmerizing, and therefore the most difficult. Because who would have continued to read a story glorifying pedophilia if the first words of Lolita weren't as gripping as "Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins"? No one mentally stable, is the answer.

Yet my time is rushing to a close, and this perfectionist habit of mine has become a hindrance.

The same foreboding atmosphere that clouded my thoughts seemed to only affect me, however. Sitting across from me on the school cafeteria table were my two closest friends, who were chatting so easily about their summer that I could only guess that it was a success.

"I wish you two could have gone with me. It would have changed your whole perspective on the fashion industry," Tori was saying between sips of water. She and her elder sister had flown to Paris to intern at one of those big name companies that specialized in ball gowns during the Summer, and she could barely contain herself from talking about it ever since. "I mean, all I did was do coffee runs for the real designers - but some of them were really nice to me!"

"Wait," Jojo held up a fry, "Some of them were mean to you?"

Tori deflated, her pink lips forming into a pout. "Yes, some were. But that was only because everyone was so busy," her smile bounced back. "You should have seen it. Everyone had somewhere to go, someone to see, something to do - it was such an - an - an accelerating place to work. I want to go back!" And with that declaration, she dramatically slumped onto Jojo's shoulders.

"There, there," Jojo patted Tori's head in a mock motherly way, while rolling her eyes at me. "We all wish we lived in Paris."

"I know, but it's not just Paris," Tori took a sip of her water. "It was my internship. All the fashion jobs are in other states and other countries, so sometimes I feel like I'm wasting my time at school when I could be out there making a name for myself." She sighed. "I mean, you two are lucky. You can accomplish all your dreams in this town, Jojo, and Gabbie doesn't even have to leave her room."

I looked down at my notebook, where my never-finished stories littered every single page. I had told my friends at a very young age that my dreams were to become an author, like J. K. Rowling, yet I never let them read a sentence of my work. They were nice enough not to mention this and throw doubt on my already shaky goals.

"Yeah, well, education is important," Jojo said. "I - Gabbie, are you okay?"

I looked up to see two sets of concerned eyes. I had been a little moody all day. "Oh, nothing. I'm just thinking of The Deal."

Tori shook her head furiously. "Don't think of that! Girl, you've got this."

"Agreed," Jojo said. "You have been writing a lot lately."