The Ballerina

Chapter 3

I walked straight to first period, still thinking about the girl I ran into. I hadn't seen her around before, so she must be new. Her skin was a deep olive and her hair a light brown. It was thick and only went a little past her shoulders, and was made up of loose curls.
I had math first, then science and social studies all before lunch. I didn't see the girl at all, I didn't have any of my classes with her so far. I stopped by my locker after lunch, next was Mrs. Anderson's parenting and child development class. I dredded this class the most, I didn't want to learn how to take care of a damn baby, but Mr and Mrs. Parker thought it would be important for when I am older and have children. When I walked in everyone else had already taken their seats and I was left to sit alone in the second row beside the window again. I took a seat in my chair and leaned back. Mrs. Anderson was babbling about how it is important to know how to deal with children who have diseases, I don't know, I wasn't really paying much attention.
Suddenly, the door opened in the middle of her speaking.
"Sorry, I'm late. I got lost," a girl said, setting her stuff down on Mrs. Anderson's desk. She looked down and was fumbling with a piece of paper before have handing it to her.
Mrs. Anderson nodded. "You must be Niña Dijerò," she smiled kindly at her. "Welcome to Ginger High. I hope everyone has been kind to you."
"Thanks," the girl says, covering her face with her hair.
"Well there is only that empty seat, next to Dylan and I am sure he will behave himself," Mrs. Anderson said, glaring at me.
The girl, Niña popped her head up and I realized that she was the girl I had run into in the hallway. She walked over to the table and set her stuff down before taking a seat.
I leaned closer to her. "Hi," I whispered as Mrs. Anderson continued with her lecture. "I'm Dylan."
She smiled slightly. "I figured as much," she whispered back, resting her chin on the palm of her hand.
I chuckled. "What no hello," I asked, jokingly.
She rolled her eyes. "Hello."
"So Niña is it?" I asked.
"Mhm."
"I'm sorry about knocking you over in the hallway."
"Oh, so you are the one who bumped into me. I knew I recognized you," she whispered, tucking her thick hair behind her ear.
"Sorry about that."
She smiled. "It's fine, I was just kidding."
"Alright," I said. She didn't respond. "So what do you like to do?"
She shrugged and didn't answer. Mrs. Anderson placed a hand on her desk. "You will be partners with the person beside you and the two of you will be raising a baby doll together," she announced. She put a cardboard box on an empty table. "One partner from each table, come up and grab a baby from the box."
Niña leaned over to me. "I'll get it," she said, getting up from her seat. She walked over to the box and grabbed a baby by the leg. Niña dropped the doll on its head before taking a seat.
Mrs. Anderson cleared her throat. "Treat the doll as if it were a child. Do not drop it on its head," she said sternly.
Niña stiffled a laugh before bursting out into giggles. I chuckled, she had an adorable giggle and her smile made her eyes light up.
Mrs. Anderson placed the battery in the baby doll and almost immediately it started to cry. My eyes widened, I didn't know what to do. Niña picked the doll up from the table and held it in her arms. "Shh," she cooed, patting its back. "What's her name," she asked, looking over at Mrs. Anderson.
"Bethany."
"It's okay, Bethany. Everything is okay," Niña said.
I raised an eyebrow, one second she was dropping the doll on its head and the next she was comforting it, what was wrong with this girl? Does she have some kind of personality disorder I should know about? When I spoke I didn't ask her any of those questions, instead I asked, "Where did you learn how to do that?"
The baby doll was quiet in her arms. "I used to babysit for my neighbour's when I was younger," she whispered.
I nodded, not sure what else to say.
"They had a little girl, I cared for her when she was a baby, I was ten at the time," she says.
"Wow. You must be mature for your age." She nods before turning her attention back to the baby doll. "So where did you come from," I asked.
"Brooklyn, New York."
"So your a city girl, huh," I said.
She smiled. "What," she asked.
"You just seem like a city girl, it's weird."
"And what is that supposed to mean, Dylan," she said, setting the doll down on the table and putting her hands on her hips.
"Well I mean, just look like you're from Brooklyn. You have that classy, sophsicated, yet wild look about you."
Niña pursed her. "I'm sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not," she states.
"It wasn't meant to be taken as a compliment or an insult. I was just stating my opinion, trying to figure you out."
"You could just ask me questions," she said.
"You didn't answer my question."
Niña frowned. "What was the question?"
"What do you like to do?"
"Well, I like to do a lot of things," Niña said, smirking.
"That isn't a specific answer."
"You were just looking for an answer, you didn't ask for specifics," she said, picking up her things.
"Then what do you like to do specifically?"
"You are a stranger, I don't tell specifics to strangers," she says, walking away.
"We just talked a whole class period," I say, following her in a hall of crowded people. "Not to mention we are raising a baby together."
"I think you're taking this a bit far," she muttered under her breath.
I huffed out a breath. "Let me take you to dinner."
"And why would I do that?"
"To save me from the guilty feeling I get for bumping into you."
"For all I know, you could be a serial killer," she says, looking slightly over her shoulder.
Niña stops at a locker and I assume it is her's. I lean against the locker beside her's. "Do I look like a serial killer," I asked.
"No, but the ones you think mean no harm tend to always cause the worst harm."
"Look, if you are concerned about it being a date, it won't be. I can take you to the skate park or we can order pizza and just talk. I don't care, just let me make it up to you," I say, pleadingly.
Niña sighed. "Fine."
Her face turned red of embarrassment. "What," I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.
"I don't know how to skate board."
"I can always teach you and besides we don't have to go to the skate park we can always stay in and watch a movie or something," I said.
"Why do you want to spend time with me? I'm nothing special, trust me," she says, closing her locker.
"You're just different from all the other girls I've known."
"How so," she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It isn't in a bad way if that's what you're thinking," I started, unsure of what to say next. "It's just that you seem sophisticated and classy, but you crave for a more adventerous life."
She nods. "Well, I don't crave for a different lifestyle, I prefer blending and you really are not helping me do that. Besides, I don't think you are in the kind of crowd I want to be in."
"And what crowd would that be," I asked.
"The I don't give a fuck crowd."
"I don't hang out with those people," I lied. I didn't know why I was lying to her, I didn't care what her prissy ass thought or at least I didn't think I did.
"Oh. Well then I apologize," she said.
"So are we still on for Friday," I asked.
"Umm, actually I just remembered that I have to practice for a dance thing for next weekend."
I nodded, I had an odd feeling that she was just trying to avoid hanging out with me. "I thought you just moved here?"
"I did, but I didn't switch studios," she replies.
I nod again. "So what kind of dance do you do," I asked.
"I should really get going to class," she said, ignoring my question.
"You didn't answer my question, Niña."
"And I told you that I don't tell specifics to strangers, Dylan," she said, starting to walk away.
"But you-" I stuttered.
"Bye, Dylan," Niña called over her shoulder.
"Wait," I called.
Niña turned around slowly and raised both of her eyebrows.
"What class do you have next," I asked her.
"Um, language arts. Why?"
I smiled. "Who is the teacher," I asked.
"Mr. Michaelson."
I grinned. "I have him right now too, you'll hate him."
"That's reassuring," Niña replied sarcastically.
"Don't worry, you'll have me with you the whole time," I say, patting her back.
"Great," she sighed unenthusiastically.
"You don't like me, do you?"
"I don't like people trying to figure me out," she said, fastening her pace a little.
"I know how you feel," I muttered.
"Do you really? I've moved four times over the past year, I usually don't make a lot of friends because they all ask questions about my life."
"Yeah," I said, trying not to think about the accident.
"Are you okay," Niña asked.
"Y-yeah," I stuttered.
"You sure?"
"I'm fine," I said with my jaw clenched.
I quickened my pace and went to the nearest bathroom I could find.
The door slammed shut behind me. My hands were balled into fist and I banged on the wall as hard as I could, kicking the wall and squeezing my eyes shut. I forced myself to not scream, I didn't wanting to draw any attention to myself. I especially didn't want Niña coming in if she were still out there, I didn't want her seeing me like this. I let my head bang against the wall, feeling the cool brick against my forehead. I took several deep breaths and kept my eyes closed. I liked the dark, it made the world around me seem less real and more like a nightmare that i was waiting to wake up from. I placed my hands on the back of my neck, interlacing them. Just breathe, just breathe. I wish I could go back in time and change the past, I just wanted to live in a world where they were both still alive.
I looked in the mirror and ran my hands through my hair, before exhaling dramatically. I came out of bathroom to find Niña sitting on the floor. "What are you doing?" I asked.
"I was waiting for you, I wanted to make sure you were okay," she answered, getting up.
"I'm fine," I said, my voice sounding hollow.
"Are you sure," Niña asked, touching my lightly with only her fingertips.
I flinched at her touch. "I said I was fine," I snapped, walking as fast as I could, wanting and needing to get as far away from her as possible.