I'll Wait For You - NaNoWrimo 2016 [DISCONTINUED]

The Wicked Witch of My Ballet Studio

Amanda Heartley sticks her foot out as I walk by- a classic elementary school taunt. I don't notice it until I'm on the floor and I flip around to look at the witch. She smirks at me and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from screaming or reaching out and strangling her.

I stand up and pull the hem of my shorts down. When I move to take a step forward, my ankle bends outward and pops. I fall, my head narrowly missing a rack full of tutus.

"Ms. Heartley, with all due respect, go die in a hole." My best friend, Serena Harris, says, her Southern accent oozing with disrespect. I've always thought her accent was so out of place in this Southern Californian town.

But then again, this town is full of phonies.

"What has happened to my star?" Ms. LaRue shouts over the screaming match between my friends and the witch. Amanda glowers and shut her mouth.

"Just an accident." I say softly, taking off my left pointe shoe, which is beginning to feel tighter and tighter by the second. I fight back tears the second I see my ankle - purple and bruised and swelling at an alarming rate.

"I can't dance!" I sob, putting my face in my hands and shaking my head.

"Let's get you into my office." Ms. LaRue says, reaching for my hand. I stand, being careful not to walk at all on my left foot, taking her hand.

Hopping into her office, I collapse on the bench next to her mini fridge, which is always full of ice packs and cold water. For her stars, she says. "Ow." I moan as she props my foot up.

"I'm not as blind as I may appear, Charlie. I can tell Amanda had something to do with this." She says, pushing her light purple glasses up on her nose.

"She's jealous of me. I'm pretty sure she wants to impress you, but I'm already your "star"."

"That's silly. All of you are my stars." She says, turning her back to me to grab an Ace bandage.

"Well, tell that to Amanda." I mumble under my breath. She unrolls the Ace bandage and starts to wrap my ankle. I hold my breath until she's done.

"Should I call Christy?" Ms. LaRue asks, looking into my dark brown almond shaped eyes.

"I can call her." I say, wiping my nose with a tissue from the box on her desk. "And I guess I can't dance for a while, huh?"

She bends down so she's at eye level with me. Which isn't that far since we're about the same height. "Keep off of it for a couple weeks. Don't even try to dance. And, just maybe, I'll see you at the winter concert." I nod, not feeling as helpless as I did before. The panic is still there, of course, but now at least I can breathe.

Ms. LaRue leaves to go lead the other girls in warm-ups, and I pull out my phone. My hands are shaking really bad, so I decided to call my sister. "What do you want, dork?" She answers.

"Come pick me up, trash."

"I thought you were walking, booger."

"My ankle's sprained, ditz."

"Fine, nerd."

"See you soon, brat." I hang up, sighing heavily and looking down pitifully at my ankle, which is wrapped beautifully. My sister, Christy, is a year older than me. She's a senior in high school and I'm a junior now. We don't like each other very much.

We used to, of course. When we were little, played with dolls, and wore bows in our hair. I guess we grew apart when I found dance and she found boys. And, when our parents got divorced almost seven years ago. We really started hating each other with a vengeance then.

I hop into the locker room and pick up my hot pink drawstring dance bag, putting my pointe shoes inside. My footsteps echo against the cold tile floor as I shut my locker and leave the room, sliding my flip flops on.

The late November, early December weather is still warm enough for me to wear flip flops. I kind of like it.

I sit on the front steps, working on a math assignment, when I hear the loud pulsing of a pop song. Be seen, be heard, be known, is her motto. Sure enough, her red Jeep comes rolling into the parking lot not even a couple seconds later.

Her dark brown bob pops out of the window. "Get in the back, kiddo." I look up angrily, ready to yell and demand I rise shotgun, when I see her latest boy-toy smirking at me.  

One look and you can tell this guy is Californian bred. His shoulders form a bulky frame, and his skin is sun-kissed. His hair is the lightest brown I've ever seen naturally and those green eyes are the color or emeralds themselves. All the guys that look like him are pricks. Just the kind my sister likes.

I limp into the backseat, pushing all of her clothes, hair brushes, pom poms, and makeup to the car floor. "You're a slob." I scoff.

"Can't we just be civil for one car ride?" She says, reversing and almost hitting a shrub. I am silent, folding my arms and fuming like a small child. "By the way, this is Peter." She chirps.

"Fantastic."

"He's actually a junior."

"Does that make you a cougar?" This makes me and Peter launch into a giggling fest which we cannot stop until we're both gasping for breath.  

"You guys are so immature. He's a month younger than me." She says softly, obviously offended.

"Meow." Peter says, pawing at Christy's arm. She goes angry teenager, pulling her lips into a thin line, ignoring the both of us. I chuckle lightly.

"Are you going to tell Mom about your boyfriend?" I say, looking through the hanging mirror at her. She catches my eye, but she doesn't shake her head or nod. I understand her hesitation.

Our mom can be classified as a workaholic. She has been an absentee parent ever since Daddy left. We don't need the money - he still pays child support. The checks are from some island in the Caribbean, and mom uses my half of the money to pay for my dance tuition. But even then, we still never see her. I don't even know what her job is, but what I do know is that she travels a lot and is almost never home. As far as she knows, Christy's only had one boyfriend ever, when really, she's never not had one ever since she was ten.

I nod, looking down, and Peter looks over at her, and not knowing better, he asks, "Are you going to tell your mom?"

"She won't care." Christy shrugs. "Besides, she's in Seattle right now."

"Right, right." Peter says and switches to looking out the window as the rolling scenery of our neighborhood passes by.

Christy pulls into the driveway of our two story house, and I think we're all surprised to see another car there.

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Tell me what y'all think of my first chapter! Please corrext errors as I copy and pasted this over!
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-Kate