Breaking The Ice

Lame Seafood Jokes

(A/N) Yayy!! Exams are officially over for me this year! Whoop whoop!! So new update, sorry for not posting it in such a long time. Anyway I'm having this dilemma. I got this crazy epic dream one night and I really want to turn it into a story but I can't have too many story ideas at a time...so I'm thinking maybe I should delete one of my other stories like WSTFD or 30 Places In 30 Days...should I or should I not? (Oops, my mum just walked in and was like "what are you doing??". Guess the secret is out, I write!) Anywho, please help me out here!!

Chapter 9

Ms Rowanne Ogden was the loveliest ballet teacher I had. She was part Russian and was rather tiny in size but her her technique and lines were flawless and absolutely breathtaking.

Of course I was late for class. I rushed into the studio with my hair still down. Reagan scoffed and said something about latecomers. I gave her the evil-eye and did my splits. This may come as a surprise to you but I couldn't pull off a full split. News flash: not all ballerinas are superbly flexible.

Once we were fully warmed-up, Ms Ogden instructed us towards the barre where we did our usual pliés, battement tendus, battement glissés and so on.

'Turn out your legs, heels forward,' Ms Ogden would occasionally say. 'Point your toes hard, I want to see those beautiful arches on your feet! Chin up, long neck. Be proud and elegant. Jessie, stand on your supporting leg. Rebecca, pull up! Keep your tummy in!'

'I'm trying!' I said, checking my stomach from the mirror. 'Go in, go in,' I muttered to myself, poking my belly which wobbled like jelly. Oh my gosh! Ryan was right - I was fat.

You couldn't blame me for feeling really queasy during class. I felt really faint and my strength was sapped away. This was the result of skipping lunch. Technically I didn't skip lunch, I missed it. And it was entirely Daniel's fault for cruelly separating my sandwich and I apart. It was no joke, I nearly collapsed during a dance but Ms Ogden was smiling at me expectantly and I didn't want to let her down.

From the glass frame of the studio door, I saw Daniel's face for a trice. Either I was going insane and I actually imagined it or he really was here, maybe to laugh at me whilst I dance. There were just so many ways he could taunt me. I was going to have a seizure. Why was he here??? If he only knew what his presence did to my poor heart.

Straightening myself once more, I fixed my posture and continued dancing to the song played by the pianist. Ms Ogden said I was easily distracted and she wasn't off there. If I was driving, and if anyone were to let me in the first place, I'd probably point at random stuff on the streets and go "ooh, look, a puppy!" until I crash into a lamp post.

'Alright, thank you girls,' Ms Ogden said when our class was up.

We took a step and curtsied low, chorusing, 'Thank you, Ms Ogden,' before dropping onto the floor to massage our sore feet. Ballet was harder than it looks, don't be so quick to judge.

'Good job, Rebecca, I'm seeing improvement,' Ms Ogden said and I couldn't help but beam. 'Reagan, work harder, you're slacking. Everyone else, good try!'

'How can the pumpkin be doing a good job? It's just a pumpkin,' Reagan said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. If it weren't for my lack of energy, she would have been admitted into the ICU in ten seconds flat.

Aside from Reagan though, guess what? I met someone decent enough to hang out with. Her name was Zoe Morrison and she was an Indian British. The first thing I noticed about her was her height. How do I put this lightly? She was a midget.... I bet if I told her that, she'd punch me in the face. Seriously though, she was nearly a head shorter than me. But she was cool. And she had this weird accent and she used words that did not make sense to me.