The Bad Girl Does Ballet

Chapter One *REWRITTEN*

Author's Note!

Hello!  I said I was going to rewrite this story and it's taking me a while, but here is chapter one! It's obviously similar to the original, consider it's the same thing, just rewritten a bit.  So, hang in there for these next few chapters, until I'm caught up and can start writing new material!  

        Secrets.  Everyone had them.  Whether it was cheating on your significant other or stealing cookies from the cookie jar at midnight, it was a secret.  You didn't want people to be aware of all the dirty little things you did in your past time.

        For me,  my secret was dance.  Now, you might think, dance?  Why would that be a secret?  Well, for starters, I don't have the typical 'dancer look' going for me.  I'm not stick thin like expected, I've got some meat on my bones.  I'm not prim and proper, and I sure as hell didn't have very good posture -- or a clean mouth for that matter.

        I tried to not let my reputation get to my head, but let's face it, I'm known as the "bad girl" of the school.  I didn't declare myself that to start off, it just sort of happened.  I guess after being suspended multiple times, a bad response to teachers, and a plethora of detentions, I tended to get labeled.  I wasn't about to complain, though.  I liked the attention.

        Secrets were hard to keep.  That's why I danced at a studio over an hour away, and why I made such an effort to make sure no one found out about my activities outside of school.  I wish I could say I didn't want anyone to know because it simply wasn't their business, but I'll be honest with myself.  I was scared of what they would think.

        I, of all people, should not be scared of what some kids at school think about me.  People were scared of me, plain and simple.  So why was I utterly terrified of the fact that people could find out that I dance?  The answer was clear: I wanted to stick to my reputation.  Most importantly, though, I just wanted to fit in, like any other kid in high school.  That's what high school's all about, anyway, right?

        I opened my front door, sweat still shiny on my skin. Yuck, I needed to shower.  Today was conditioning day at dance, and Miss Grace, my main teacher, loved to work us.  I was going to be very sore tomorrow, but it wasn't anything Netflix therapy couldn't heal.

        "Ma, I'm home!"  I called out as I walked into the main room.  I readjusted the strap of my duffle bag on my shoulder.

     Glancing into the living room, I saw my mom stretched out across a yoga mat, mimicking the girl from the DVD playing on the TV.

     "Hey, sweetie!  I'm just getting in some last minute yoga before I have to get Danny from school!"

     I grunted a response before trudging up the stairs, trying my best not to sound too out of breath.  Opening the door to my room, I sighed in relief.  Shower, here I come.  I made my way to the bathroom, stripping down before turning on the water.

     Instantly I felt relief.  As hot water droplets rained around me, I felt the tension start to leave my body.  Miss Grace's favorite thing was working us to the point of unable to stand exhaustion.  Being a dancer since I was three, I was used to this kind of stuff, but today was especially horrible.  

     Over the course of my sixteen years, I've done acro, jazz, ballet, tap, hip hop, and lyrical.  I dropped hip hop and acro once I turned nine, but I've stuck with the other four.  Out of all the genres, ballet was definitely my favorite.  After my first class of it, I was hooked.  I fell in love with the precision and strength it took to make grand jetes look so effortless, to make pirouettes seem like you were almost floating.