Chapter 2
"You're late! Late! Late! Late!"
"I'm sorry?"
"Your hair - too frizzy!"
"I'll do better next time?"
"Oh no, no. Much, much too big." She said, gesturing wildly to my 32D chest.
"Thank you?"
"Wear this when you come to dance!" She said, throwing a tiny cheetah print sports bra to me.
"But these will kill them. And these are my babies; you can't make me kill my babies."
"You wear." She said, pointing sternly at me.
"I wear." I agreed with a sigh, throwing my hands up into the air.
"Now! Stretch."
"Yes, ma'am."
Sitting down on the floor, I started to stretch. I looked up, and took in her appearance. She was a small Hispanic woman with cow print spandex shorts, a hot pink tank top, and a neon green sweatband perched on top of her forehead. She looked insane; awesome, but insane.
Watching as she picked up the phone and started speaking in rapid Spanish, I resumed my stretching. Turning back towards me, she clapped her hands together. "Okie-dokie! You. Go home now."
"Wait, what?" I said, dumbfounded. "But, we just got here! And you just made me warm up!"
"I go home now. I have children who need feeding, and husband who need loving from his Uno Mamacita."
"Eww, gross. Too much information."
"Shoo, shoo."
"Okay! Fine, I'm leaving, I'm leaving." I said, throwing my hands up in surrender. "I'll see you in two days, Mrs. Alvarez."
Walking out of the building, I got halfway to the road before I stopped in my tracks. I'm still lost. I still don't have a ride. And I'm still an idiot. Great.
Twenty minutes later, I was still walking.
And walking.
And walking.
It seemed like a never ending road that went on and on and on and on. . .
Wait, what is that? Slipping on my sunglasses, I squinted into the distance and found civilization. Sweet baby Jesus.
I snickered. I knew I was just too young and beautiful to die.
Tripping over a rock and landing with my palm in a pile of -
Oh god no.
Cringing when my hand got too close to my face for comfort, I dusted myself off, and walked into sweet, sweet civilization.
"Ummm. . . I know it's in here. For sure, Mr. taxi-cab-driver. "Just give me one second." I mumbled with my hands in my bottomless bag.
The driver let out an audible groan.
"Ahah! Found it!" I yelled with a smug smile aimed at the driver, pulling out the little once-white sheet of paper. The dirty slip of paper held the address of the apartment I would be living in for the rest of my senior year.
"Just get in the cab. Or I'll charge you extra." He warned.
"Pushy, pushy." I relented, throwing my bag in the back, climbing in after it.
Less than 10 minutes later, we arrived at the apartment. Clambering out of the car not so gracefully, my jaw dropped in awe.
The apartment was ginormous. Matching the ballet school, it had giant white pillars holding it up, and foliage shaped as elegant dancers in various poses scattered around the garden.
Dragging my bag along, I climbed up the staircase, and searched for my room.
Aha, Room 16H.
Shoving open the door, I sighed, the weariness of the entire day overcoming me.
"What am I gonna do here?" I mumbled, "New town, new city, new state. I'll have to get new friends, and try to not get lost every 5 minutes. "
Why was I ever excited to come here?
If my details don't match up with Chapter 1's, sorry. I have the worst short term memory, sorry.
And I hope I'm not offending anybody with the dance teacher. Because if I'm making fun of somebody you know, than I'm making fun of my mom at the same time. My mom, is the worst kind of Asian lady out there. She embarrasses me to no end, and has the thickest accent ever. (And add in the southern accent we've developed, and promptly cringe.) But sorry if I'm making anyone mad. ):
YOU ARE READING
Make Your Move
HumorWhen strong willed, hard headed Scarlett Radkey receives the chance of a lifetime, she immediately jumps at the chance of success; and in two weeks time, she’s packed and shipped off to a prestigious performing arts school. Using her impeccable tale...
