Can I Continue...

24 days part 1

"Keep on your toes, turn your feet in, stand up straight, stay in position." My dance instructor and bestie Joe shouted over the music. We had been practicing our trophy dances for over an hour and yeah I was tired but this dance needed to be perfect for the competition. 2 months seems like a lot of time but learning a new step requires practice, pacientes and time.

Last year at the All Englands I got two 8th place medals, five highly recommend, and one 5th place with a small trophy. It was cool, but it wasn't enough to get me to the worlds; I missed out on going to Cardiff!

This year I'm due to dance on my birthday and my present to my self is hopefully going to be the podium place, I really want a sash (1st place gets you a sash, a large trophy, and a place at the worlds), as last year I was ill a week before the big competition couldn't hear the music which messed up my timing. This year, I'm gonna be in tip - top shape and not let anything get me down. I will get to the worlds, I've been working towards this moment for years, ever since I went to my first competition.

Joe was obviously thinking along the same line as he turned the music down "you are so getting a podium place this year" he said, hugging me. I nodded.

Joe has been my best friend since pre - school when he offered me a mud pie and I threw it in his face. Since then we have been inseparable. Our parents always way our brains are on 'the same wavelength' because we always know what the other is thinking. Joe has helped me in dance since we were 7 - that's 9 years now he has supported me, and 5 years since he became my teacher. He understands me more than anyone else and I love him like a brother. Right now, he's been pushing me to aspire my dreams. This afternoon I'm going to his football match to support him, just like he supports me.

Joe is the best brother anyone could ask for, better then my attual half siblings who never try to see me anymore.

The music interups my daydream as Joe puts it back on loud. I need to keep practicing - every spare minuet we have I'm at Joe's in his mum's ballet studio.

I chugged half a lucousade, threw it to my side, and got back into position.

"Ready" I called and Joe started counted. I let the music invade my mind and counted in my head for my cue to start.

7,...

8,...

I let onto my toes, shut my eyes and began to glide across the floor. Lead around, step one with the new part, step two. It wasn't perfect by a long shot as Joe would indefinitely point out, but it was going much better than previous attempts.

Step three was a repeat of the lead around as a step to the side with hanging jumps instead of changes. It requires more work then other steps because of this.

My knee started to slack during step two and became even more pronounced in step three, a dull ache in the bottom part of my knee. As time went on it got more and more noticeable.

I attempted the last jump - maybe I could salvage the last part of the dance. My knee had other ideas; not only was the jump badly executed, I did something potentially horribly serious to my knee. As I landed, my knee buckled and I crashed to the floor, my knee twisting as I did so. I screamed in agony. Joe hurriedly gathered my spare change of clothes, the half full bottle, the heavy shoes and the portable speaker I to my hot pink dance bag. He ran over to me, sprawled in the middle of the room clutching my knee gasping in agony.

"Lucy I'm gonna have to get you to the hospital." Joe was nearly crying with fright, panic drawing his features into lines so hard I would have laughed in better circumstances.

Instead, I screamed. "Not the hospital, you can't take me to the hospital!!" I was gasping by the end of the sentence. No one knew why I hated the hospital. Not even Joe knew the whole story about why I hate the hospital. I hate them more than anything else; the sounds, the smells, the limited visiting hours, the memories....
I forced myself back to reality where Joe was trying to speak to me. There was a loud ringing in my ears and repressed memories were trying to be seen.

Instead I focused on Joe's face. He tried to help me up so I used his arm for a hoist and, with his help, got into a standing position. However, when I tried to put slight pressure on my leg, the knee buckled and I gasped from the momentarily blinding pain. Next thing I knew I was back on the floor, with my bag on my stomach and Joe's arms beneath me. I gritted my teeth as he lifted me up but a small wine escaped my lips. It was a bumpy ride, but Joe tried to jostle me as little as possible. His arms were warm and felt safe.

He carried me out to his car, a silver Ford (not great with cars) and laid me gently across the backseats, a cushion under my knee. He briskly got into the front seat and the car rumbled to life. We sat in slightly awkward silence for a bit while the car ambled along the road. At a red light he looked over his shoulder to observe my position. Through partially open eyes I saw his eyes open in supprise.

"That bad, hu?" I feebly nodded my agreement, supprise myself at how much the pain had drained me. Even though, as every dancer should, I have known and seen countless dance related injures, nothing has ever come close to the pain currently residing in my knee.

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A/n I have no idea if this is good or bad so please let me know what you think.
This book does not work on the same time scales as we are on so some chapters may all be of one day and others at be two or three mushed into one or after a couple were missed. After a while I'm thinking of having attual titles instead of days

Please be aware that I do not intend this story to be like my other and I'm not sure 'head in the clouds' will get finished due to writers block and extreme dislike of how it went

L xxx