Once in a Blue Moon

|Trois|

A few weeks later, Delilah was washing her hands for the fourth time in a row and humming All Night by Beyonce when someone started knocking on the bathroom door.

Delilah rolled her eyes and shut the water off, knowing it was nobody but her mother being sickening as hell.

"Are you ready for practice?" Vicky asked as she swung the door open.

"Don't it look like it?" Delilah snarled. She was standing tall with her black leotard, sheer tights, and ballet shoes on. Her hair was in a smooth bun and she had on no makeup, except for lipgloss.

Damn, I look like a mean ass chihuahua right now. I'm surprised I didn't piss on her.

She walked past her mother, bumping her slightly.

Vicky just bit her lip and willed herself not to snatch Delilah's throat out of her neck. This was her daughter, and she had a duty to love her through whatever teenage attitude she had.

"Mind if I sit in?" She leaned against the bathroom door. Vicky missed seeing Delilah dance. Watching someone fulfill what was obviously their purpose in life was magical. Delilah was a lot of things, but she could dance so well it had brung tears to grown ass adults' eyes.

"I do, actually." Delilah didn't face her mother as she scrolled through her phone. She had told Gunz to come pick her up from practice so they could go on a day date. She'd even told him to come fifteen minutes earlier, so he could see her dance. She knew if he caught sight of her flowing in the air, he'd be infatuated. Gunz had also informed her he had a surprise for her, so she was ready to get practice over with.

"I need to be dropped off, though."

"Why aren't you driving, Delilah?"

Growing annoyed, Delilah exhaled loudly and shouted, "Uuuugghhh! Forget it, I don't know why I bother to ask you anything." She threw a jacket that was on the bed at the wall, and then plopped down. "You're so fucking trifling." Delilah held her hand to her head as if she had the world's worst migraine, and began to dial up Kina.

Vicky cleared her throat, "I was just asking, honey. You don't have to be rude. I'll go get my coat." Her voice turned into a hurt whisper on the last word as she walked out. Delilah paid her no attention. Her mother alternated between wanting to be best friends, to hating her existence. She didn't have the time.

Delilah was scrolling on Instagram when something caught her eye. She stopped at a boy named Sour's post. He was throwing his set up with his cousin, Kendrick. In the back, Delilah could clearly see Diesel smiling and dapping up someone who's face was covered by Sour's fat ass shoulder. Delilah became so furious she could barely see. With a scream, she jumped up and knocked everything off her dresser. Breathe, bitch, breathe. Delilah willed herself into calming down. How the fuck was her father in the Earth rotting, and this asshole was parading around the city like shit was sweet? As a matter of fact, Delilah thought, her head shot up. Where did this motherfucker even come from?! She heard her mother come down the stairs, and walked out of her room, closing the door quietly. She didn't feel like answering any questions.

...

"Straighten up your lines!" Vashti, Delilah's dance teacher shouted in her thick Russian accent. How a Naomi Campbell look alike such as Vashti came out of Russia, nobody ever got a clear answer on.

Delilah was slipping, and she knew it. Finding out Diesel's wet ferret looking ass was back in town made her want to say fuck dancing, and go alert one of her cousins. Instead, she chose to practice her Black Swan routine so she could get her anger out. At one point in the routine, she had to stand on pointe while stretching her leg next to her head in a perfect line as her arms gracefully swayed outwards. Flexibility was no problem for her usually, but her concentration was off, so her balance suffered.