Well. Hello there. It feels great to be back! Sorry for the hiadus, but let me explain: I'm in eleventh grade (I could probably stop there, haha). The last month and a half has been filled with AP tests, going back to in-person school, schoolwork, dance, tutoring ungrateful children, and training for a half-marathon--among other things. But now that *some* of those things are over (but now I'm getting a job *sigh), I should be able to get back to a regular schedule. Expect an update next week. I won't say what day yet, but there will be an update.
I'm so glad to finally post! And a big shout-out to my four new editors!
And Megan, whose mom forced her to delete Wattpad but who will still edit for me!
As always, enjoy! (it's 6000+ words)
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When sleeping fails, I do some ballet.
My Academy sweatshirt and a pair of grey sweatpants keep me insulated. My hair is wound up into its bun for the day, and I'll go back to my bathroom counter for hairspray later. A pair of Nike crew socks warm my feet. It isn't good when a ballerina gets cold feet.
It would be a shame if I got cold feet.
Maven and I left Shade's apartment after eleven last night, taking separate taxis back to Billionaires' Row and the Academy, respectively. My night was full of tossing and turning that ended with me getting up just past seven.
My mind buzzes. My skin is cold with exhaustion, and my head is heavy with anxiety.
Tyton was right. What the Scarlet Street Fighters are pulling tonight at the Plaza Hotel is absolute, total, and utter shit. It's Mission Impossible-level shit. But if there ever was a good night to pull off a Street Fighter scheme, it would be when the alcohol was flowing freely for high society.
Shade's apartment was crawling with Street Fighters. The usual characters were there, along with a man named Harrick, the older woman named Nanny, and Farley's dad. Willis Farley didn't take well to Maven, barking questions at my boyfriend and otherwise silently glaring at him. As though his eyes alone could tell if Maven is double-crossing me. They couldn't. Mine can't.
Three hours.
The Scarlet Street Fighters spent three hours meticulously detailing everything that Maven and I are expected to do this evening at the Plaza. Our parts, with choreography no less precise than Giselle's, are only two roles in a performance with many acts.
If only for a night, the Scarlet Street Fighters are happy that Maven's my boyfriend. I'd have no excuse to go to another high society party otherwise.
You know, to pull some Mission Impossible-level shit.
Shade and Farley will lash out later. Shade will tell me that I've lost my mind, that I'm putting my heart on the line when I could just as easily keep it safely in my chest. Farley will tell me that I've gotten too close, that I've wasted my potential as a spy. Dating a Calore is no good. I can't be impartial anymore.
I couldn't break into Mister Calore's office without smiling at Maven and Cal's Disney World photograph. I won't be able to toss Maven aside and look out for myself if I ever have to.
I watch myself in the mirror of Julian's studio. Behind me, Midtown's skyscrapers shimmer with rising sunlight.
Instead, I track myself, watch my shoulders, my ribs, and my hips as I shift my feet at the barre. My baggy clothes blur the shape of my body, but I still feel the tension in my muscles. My butt, hips, thighs, and calves ache, burn with every plié and rond de jambe.
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Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU
FanfictionFollowing a failed pickpocket attempt, a fall from some stage rafters, and an audition that she never imagined in her wildest dreams, Mare Barrow, street felon by day and wistful ballerina by night, one day finds herself as a dancer for Manhattan's...
