Spin City

Chapter 1

Spin City 1

Kyla's POV

I'm sixteen. My mother just died last night, the coroner ruling it as a suicide 11:59 p.m. My father hasn't left the couch since. There are empty beer bottles around him and a few of my mother's old prescriptions are opened the coffee table. He hasn't left this position in nearly twenty-four hours. I think he's passed out but I'm scared of him waking.

I quietly tiptoe into the room and hustle quietly into the kitchen. I open the laundry room door, wincing as it creaks open. I glance back at my father but he's completely still on the couch despite the noise. I look at the washer in panic. It's walking all over the laundry room floor, making a horrible racket. I'm surprised it raised ripped the hose from the wall by now. I position it back where it's supposed to be and quietly lift myself on top of it, forcing it to remain stationary. I'll have no dance clothes clean if I can't get them through this cycle. I peer out the door. I can see that the mason jar on top of the fridge is empty after my dad's beer run. There's no money for my dance classes anyway.

I sit on the washer for the full cycle until I hear a shrill beeping noise coming from the kitchen. It sounds like the microwave timer that mom would use when defrosting meat. I panic, thinking it will wake up my dad, make him angry, but I see mom walk into the kitchen, humming as she opens the microwave door, silencing the horrible sound of the timer, saving me.

What?

.....................

I jerk awake, panting from the dream. It was a memory, up until seeing my mom come back alive. That was five years ago when she died. I was in high school. I shake my head and yawn, rubbing at my tired eyes and turning my alarm off.

It's five-thirty a.m. That leaves me exactly two hours to get ready and be inside Dr. Marissa Tobone's office. She's my shrink, a nice lady with salt a pepper hair who makes me talk about all the shit I'd like to just forget about. It's apparently dangerous to let sleeping dogs lie though. Every single Tuesday, I'm back in her office talking about something else from my past, like how my mom died, or how I don't want to speak to my alcoholic father.

I limp over to my bathroom and slip inside. I try to ignore the pain from my fractured femur or the sight of the nasty blue bruise covering my hip as I shower. I used to work for the freaking New York Ballet and now I'm limping in a shower that doesn't even belong to me.

I sigh, blocking out the memory of the injury, the gasps of the crowd beneath me. It's completely irrelevant now. I work at the Spin City Ballet Company now, owned by Jenny Dove. It was my childhood ballet school. Yeah, they do the Nutcracker every year at Christmas and it's a nice facility, but it isn't the New York Ballet. It's not where trained professionals work unless they're retired or co-owners like Jenny and Jeremy. Jenny was nice enough to give me several of her classes so that I could teach while I'm in limbo and trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do with my life now. In the meantime, I'm focusing on teaching and training with Jenny's son, Jeremy Dove. He's a professional too and has agreed to coach me until I can recover from this stupid hip. My number one goal is getting back professional, booking more jobs. I think most people think I should retire at this point and teach but I can't imagine staying in Spin City for the rest of my life. I think I'd rather die than do that.

Once I'm dressed and ready, I hobble downstairs and grab a juice from the fridge. I retrieve my keys from the bowl on the round table by the door and slip on my furry Ugg boots. Once I'm out, I lock up behind me.

In Marissa's office, I'm silent. She wants to know about the abusive ex this time but I can't find the words, not that I want to. It's humiliating to admit all of this stuff to her, but somehow, I always do. She thinks the ex, my parents, and the accident have caused me so much pain that I shut everyone out now and choose to be guarded from the world.