Change It To Save It

Chapter 3

The trip to the mall was very uneventful. I pointed at stuff I thought was cute, mom bought it for me, and then we went home with a take out box of food from the food court.

My mom decided to watch some T.V in the living room, but I wasn't feeling what she was watching, so I went upstairs into my room.

I flopped down on my bed and turned my T.V on to the last channel I had watched which, unfortunately for me was the news. I left it on though, because I wasn't gonna pay attention anyways.

Scrolling through the Instagram explore page, I noticed a picture Of none other than Ben.

Why is Ben on my explore page? I thought to myself.

Surprisingly, but not so surprisingly, Lula had been one of the hearts. I rolled my eye and checked to see that she had screenshotted a picture of Ben's instagram and direct messaged it to me.

'Found it'

I shook my head at the screen when something on the T.V caught my attention.

"No one was hurt but the damage is extensive, the cause of the fire is suspected to be arson."

I recognized the street being near a skate park that Wes had taken me to when we were dating for the second time. I had noticed that there had also been a lot of arson's in that area too.

I had quickly shoved the thought to the back of my mind, because I had a new follower request.

'Ben Wesher, 16, private account.'

My eyes widened. I barely knew him, and he wanted to follow me?

Whatever, a follower is a follower.

I clicked accept and followed him back. When he accepted my request, I took a look at his feed. Mostly pictures of band posters and a selfie or two.

I DM Lula with a screenshotted picture of one of Ben's selfie's, asking 'what do you see in this?'

She replies quickly, saying 'what do you not?'

I plug my phone into the charger and search up a classic song so I can practice in my pointe shoes.

Since my dad works a lot, my room is so big it fits a walk-in closet, a connecting bathroom, a king-size bed, and an 8 by 10 foot space that I put ballet bars and mirrors in and transformed into my "dance space." I also have an actual dance room in my house that is 14 by 28 feet.

Having a workaholic dad does have it's perks.

I put my pointe shoes on and then start 'rondo.' I practice some boreé's, fouette's and chaîne's, just quickly stretching my legs before getting ready for bed.

I do a quick but fancy bow, even though no one's watching. I slide out into the middle splits, raising my arms up into fifth to finish.

A clapping comes from the doorway and my dad walks in, smiling his award-winning smile that could fool anyone, but I've learned when it's real and when it's fake.

I'm pretty sure it's real this time, or maybe it's me trying to convince myself he's proud of me.

"Nice job, getting pretty flexible there." Dad comments, patting me on my shoulder.