So You Think You Can Dance?

America's Favorite Dancer Is ...

So, here we are ... starting a new story. I'm dreaming that it's summer time and the favorite thing about summer time, besides the longer days and warmer weather is the return of my favorite show, So You Think You Can Dance? I love it ... the beauty, artistry and athleticism is amazing. Plus, the music they play? Damn ... makes me happy.

Up next will be the results show. Bella and Edward will spend some time with Carlisle and Esme. We're going to hear from Alice and find out who is the winner of the competition.

Chapter Twenty-One: America's Favorite Dancer Is ...

AlicePOV

I sat in my room, staring at my phone.

Glowering at my phone was more like it ...

This was a contingency plan that Renee came up with in case things didn't go as planned. And things definitely did not go as planned. I sucked. I really, royally sucked. The only dance I performed well was the bullshit dance I had with Bella. The rest of the performances, I was worse than mediocre. I stumbled, fumbled and looked like a complete amateur. We needed that contingency plan because the dance I had with Bella was the strongest. For both of us, to be honest. I had to give her credit. She kicked ass. Despite her numerous injuries and there was a tiny, I mean miniscule, part of me that respected her for it. Like the size of a grain of rice, but that's neither here nor there.

Shit. I'm growing a conscience. Stop that, Brandon. Just stop!

The dance, our dance, that was supposed to ruin her. I mean, I nailed her with my 'unintentional' kick. But, she didn't give up. She went to the emergency room and muscled through.

And she performed better than me.

What. The. Fuck?!

So, I had plan B.

Picking up my phone, I dialed the number that Renee had sent to me. Might as well get this shit done. Isabella Swan is going down, bitches! "Hello? TMZ? My name is Alice Brandon and I'm a contestant on So You Think You Can Dance? I'm calling you regarding another contestant, Isabella Swan. It's been brought to my attention that she's been using performance enhancing drugs."

"Do you have proof of this?" asked the male voice.

"No. Not yet, but I can get it," I replied, looking at the doctored medical records that Renee had provided for me.

"I'm shocked that you're calling us, Ms. Brandon. Doesn't Alistair Simms make you sign a confidentiality agreement?" he asked.

"I did sign an agreement, but information like this is important," I argued. "Don't you want to expose the truth?"

"The competition is not even over. And from what I saw of tonight's performances, you didn't fair too well, Ms. Brandon. Is this a ploy to get Isabella eliminated under false pretenses? That's quite the story. Probably better than the story about her taking performance enhancing drugs. Can I quote you?" he laughed.

"No comment," I growled, hanging up the phone. I pinched my nose, freaking out that our plan was going to backfire. But, with the next three phone calls to other various tabloids and news sources, I used an alias. With a promise of proof, I planted the seed that Isabella Swan cheated and she might have, using the cortisone shot on her knee. But, the medical bills from Renee, those would be far worse than a measly steroid shot in the knee.

She'd be ruined.

Ruined sounded great. Did it?

I sent a text to Renee, informing her of our plans. It's done. Now, we wait ~ Alice