The Royal Scandal | Prince William |

How Was Your Date?

Jaclyn Webber is an American ballerina who's been studying at the Royal Ballet School...

Jaclyn skipped a few lines not needing to know her own life story.

When did the prince's taste go from model to homely? We're not sure, but we can officially dispute the claim that Americans are better groomed. Do you see her hair?

The day of the match it had been hot, every picture her hair was greasy from sweat and standing up in a frizz that could challenge Hermione. There were even a few pictures of her out with Zara and Natania at lunch posing like a madman. Apparently they just became useful.

The largest picture on the two page spread, was probably her favorite, if she had to like any of them. It was William dropping her off at her room kissing her hand. In the picture her outfit was still "tacky", leggings over tights with her sweater tied over her leo, but she had taken her hair down allowing it to spiral out in a crusty hairsprayed pony.

Emma took it back from Jaclyn's hands snatching her stare along with it. She was exuding shock, slacked jaw and muscles so loose it was a miracle she was still standing. "There's more where that came from," she said voice snarky, enjoying every bit of Jackie's discomfort.

There was no way to hide her shock, and they could see her nerves, but they had no right to see her hurt or her tears.

So icing over her stage face, she marched past them into the studio forgetting about her friends as well. Her privates were more important anyways. They were prime time for Ms. Lewis to start picking soloists for the spring showcase. Whoever had solos got offers into companies.

Taking her warm ups off, she placed herself at the barre doing a few plies to stretch out her hips again. Small tears slid from her eyes as she sunk down. Jaclyn rolled through her feet trying to find the perfect balancing point in her pointe shoes, but suddenly everything felt off.

Sous-sus was possibly the easiest position to hold, but her pointed toes wouldn't stop tottering. Her back was arched, her hips weren't pulled up, and finally she had to break her arm position to wipe at the silent tears. The ones left were now spread across her leo and glistening on her neck.

That was how Ms. Lewis found her, gripping at the barre with one hand while the other vigorously rubbed at her cheeks in frustration. Why would the tears not stop?

Voice as dull as ever she asked, "Jaclyn, have you warmed up?" She never turned to look at her student, focusing immediately on the CD player wanting to maximize their little time.

"Yes, ma'am," she blubbered out surprising herself with how sickly her voice sounded. Ms. Lewis turned sharply taking in what a mess she was. The tears had subsided, but Jaclyn's cheeks burned from where she had rubbed them, and she felt very sticky standing in one place.

"You needn't worry yourself with gossip,"Ms. Lewis said.  Her tone would suggest she thought Jaclyn to be acting overdramatic, stoic and bored the way it was.

Still gripping the bar Jaclyn responded, "that's hard to do when half of England's probably heard it." She didn't mean to be malicious, but her feet were already starting to ache a sign this was going to be a long and gruesome private.

"And why do you care Miss. Webber?" She asked turning back to the CD player.

There had always been a wall between them, Ms. Lewis was a distant person taking her job as their educator very seriously. Hearing words, as distant as they were, she was allowing Jaclyn to peek over. To be comforted.

So Jaclyn took the opportunity. "Because I'm going to go out there, and I'm going to know they're all judging me."

"Well then," Ms. Lewis directed her hand to the center if the studio, "why not enjoy the time you have away from their eyes by doing what heals us all?"