Christian and Alia gleefully make their way back to the dorms. Meanwhile, I'm sulking in the background, letting my head hang low.
Don't get me wrong, shopping wasn't as dreadful as I thought it would be. I've learned in the long run that fashion was just not my forte.
Jason lucked out at attending our shopping spree, having a mandatory meeting at his new job. Though he is only 17, prodigies like himself excel early in life.
Halfway back to the dorm rooms, Christian asks if we wanted to crash at his place, but I told him that I'd rather not.
Alia begged me to come along, but I kept declining. "It's fine, just go."
The two gave me a few small nods and then walked off to the other direction, their new "trending" items threatening to tear the cheap, paper bags apart.
As a non-fashionista, I carried my nearly empty shopping bag through the dorm hallways with ease.
The only item Alia was able to persuade me to buy was a new pair of black dance shorts. Also a white lace hair bow that she practically had to pry my wallet open for.
The lonely trip back to the dorm was quite terrifying, with nothing to hear but the echoes of my footsteps.
I tried to keep my head up so I would know where I was heading, but the eerie silence in these hallways gave me the creeps.
All of a sudden, a strong force pushes me backward and I land square on the ground.
"Watch where you're going!" The person scolds.
"I'm so sorry. I just needed to get to my dorm." I say, brushing my legs for any evidence of dust as I stand.
"How long will it take these kids to figure out their way here? It's a small academy."
He has a low voice, and most boys my age have barely even brushed over the mere topic of puberty. He's older and much wiser. Best I shouldn't mess with him.
I feel him inspecting me, trying to get a glimpse of my face, but I refuse to look up.
"I've actually been here my whole life." I say less than above a whisper.
"Then why do you look lost? You know what, I'll bring you instead. What's your room number?"
"I'm not lost, but thank you."
"Okay then. How long is your whole life? Like 9 years?" He smirks.
That was offensive! To the best of my ability, I try not to strangle him for calling me a 'nine-year-old.'
"For your information, I'm almost 15. The only reason why I'm small and scrawny is because I've been a dancer my whole life."
"Really? Oh, well that means you are just anoth—"
"I have to go now so if you'll excuse me." I cut through his sentence and walk right past him.
I didn't even get a glance of this rude stranger. But it's not like I'll be dancing with the older dancers anytime soon.
Might as well pretend as if this conversation never existed.
~~~
Who do you think this person is? I have an amazing idea for this story, so try to stay with me here.
Thanks for reading! :p