The Bad Boy can Dance

P R O L O G U E

The Sally came rushing in and ran towards me. She knelt in front of me and spoke softly, "How much does it hurt, darling between one and 10?"

I took a few deep breaths and whispered, "An eight, at least." Sally nodded muttering to herself. She grabbed her phone out her pocket and dialled a number, which I was guessing was 911.

"Hi, yes I need an ambulance at Hamilton and 95th street on the Third floor of Mrs. Basil's Dance Academy. Michelle O'Doylee, age 17 has fallen. It looks like she might have a concussion and a broken bone or two, she's in extreme pain, an eight out of 10. And Louis Dane, also 17, seems to have done something serious to his ankle Please hurry, Thank you." And then Sally hung up.

Three Paramedics arrived Twenty minutes later. Two of them lifted me onto a stretcher, which hurt immensely. The other paramedic helped Louis limp out and into the ambulance.

The ride to the Hospital was torture. The paramedics were asking me questions about myself, but all I wanted them to do was be quiet because my head was pounding with a tortuous headache. When I didn't answer the questions, Louis did for me. I was grateful for that.

As soon as we got to the Hospital, I was rushed to the doctor. The doctor tested me for a concussion, shinning lights in my eyes, testing my hearing and strength. The doctor said I had a mild concussion which should last for seven to ten days.

The Doctor also sent me to X-Ray and told me I had broken my left wrist in one place and I shattered the bone in my right knee but he would give me more details about how serious the injuries were as soon as my family comes and signs some forms.

And now I sat here in my private room. Bored, tired, alone, and hungry, just contemplating things. Today I had been convinced that I was ready to do a dangerous dance trick that I wasn't comfortable with yet by my most trusted friend who said he was ready, that I was ready, that he wouldn't let me fall.

Yet here I am. In a hospital room suffering a mild concussion, a broken wrist, and a shattered knee. All because he dropped me. Louis dropped me, and he was hurt in the process.

There was a light tap at the door that drew me back into reality. I turned my head to see who it was. Louis stood there, crutches supporting his weight and his right foot wrapped in a thick white bandage.

His normally handsome face looked like he had aged ten years as he had dark circles under his tired electric blue eyes and his raven hair that was normally always neat was messed up. He smiled weakly at me. "Hey Mi-Mi."

"Hi." I managed to croak out weakly. I hadn't talked for a few hours and all the screaming had messed up my vocal cords. Louis looked at my wrapped-up wrist and then at my knee which was lightly wrapped and hoisted up.

Louis' tired eyes flashed with guilt and a tear escaped, trailing down his cheek. "I'm so sorry Mi-Mi," He took a deep breath. "I wouldn't have ever let you fall, I promise you!"

"Yeah, well you did." I snapped, my voice still hoarse. "You said you were ready, then you said I was ready, but guess what? You obviously weren't since that happened!" I cruelly pointed to his foot, then I frowned. "How did that even happen anyway? You're strong enough to lift me up! Your workout routine is insane!"

Louis sighed and looked away, staring intensely at the screws in the door. "I hurt my ankle a few weeks ago. I thought it healed completely because it wasn't hurting, but obviously it wasn't and with all the weight I was holding my ankle gave out and it snapped." Louis looked at me with sad eyes. "I made a mistake, I'm sorry Michelle. I really am. Please don't be mad at me." Louis pleaded.

I couldn't help it. I was mad, really mad. It was like I was a calm fire and then someone poured a whole bunch of gasoline on me and suddenly I was a raging and I couldn't stop it.

I was mad at Louis because he was hurt and he misjudged his injury. He carried on like he was fine and dandy and then he risked my safety doing the trick, that I wasn't even comfortable with, and then got us both hurt. All because he thought he was fine. He probably never even went to a doctor about it.

"Michelle, say something." Louis pleaded. I sighed, then looked at the plain TV that hung above me. "Please go, Louis." I said weakly, looking at Louis at last.

Louis' face shone with the look of hurt and betrayal, but today I was hurt and betrayed. "Michelle, please. I'm sorry! Please forgive me, Michelle!" Louis kept persisting, but I wasn't having it.

"No Louis! I trusted you and you failed," I said sharply. "I told you I wasn't comfortable with doing the trick and yet you kept saying it was going to be fine. Look at me Louis! Do I look fine? No, I don't. My knee is the size of a baseball and I can't even move it. We both know this is bad for my dancing career."

I wiped the tears that fell down my cheek. "Just go, Louis."

Louis nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay Michelle, I'll... um, see you later.. Maybe." Louis turned around and with the help of his crutches, he started walking down the hall. I listened to the sound of his crutches disappear down the hall.

And then suddenly I realised I was alone again.