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She swung her thighs apart and tried again. Th momentum caused the perfect timing to achieve the move-but she failed.
Yet again.
Her ballet teacher tsked in disappointment and gripped her elbow.
She looked in fear, anticipating harsh words. Instead she got the skeptical rise of a perfectly manicured eyebrow and a sudden tightening around her petite bicep.
"Are you dumb lady?! What did I told you? Swing your hips then push up your thighs! ", her teacher hissed forcing her to stand up.
She managed a hesitant nod, submissive eyes glued to her ballet shoes. Her teacher let out a derisive snort and uplifted her chin making her terrified eyes meet her cold, icy ones.
Her teacher sighed loudly and grasped the back of her nape in a vice grip. "Listen lady-and listen very carefully. I don't have all day. Don't think just because your pretty boyfriend's father knows a few good knots in the high circle, you could waltz around like the queen bitch that you are."
She let out a harsh breath trying to control the thick lump in her throat after hearing the harsh words. She heaved in and out, twirling her dainty fingers together in an attempt to calm her heart that was thundering through her rib cage.
She reminded herself that she was in one of America's most prestigious ballet academy -and also not to mention the most cruellest.
It didn't matter to anyone that she hated ballet.
That she hated aimlessly twirling around like a bogus butterfly.
Hasn't she done enough twirling in her high school.
She gave a brief nod,mumbling a few incoherent apologies and promises to do better next time.
Her teacher waved her off, as she fixed her few blonde strands that has fallen from her bun.
She knew the meaning of it. Today again she has to stay up during the late hours perfecting her steps.
She took her water bottle and went to the secluded corner of the room, keeping a safe distance from the groups of girls giggling around her in high pitched voices.
They got silent for a moment when they saw her approaching back to the line. A few of them had victory smirks on their faces as they silently mouthed coherent words to her.
Words that no one would like to listen
She hurried her steps, keeping her head down.
She didn't want to listen to them.
Not anymore.
It seemed like ages when she finally made her way to the secluded corner of the podium.
She didn't wanted to deal with them now. She gingerly lifted the sleeve of the expensive costume and blinked at the angry red mark.
She touched it lightly, flinching when it burned. She blew her breathe on it, hoping to soothe it down.
She pulled the fabric back and blankly stared at the blinding lights ahead.
They were a mirage of shades of fluorescent yellow mixed together.
She stared blankly ahead, trying to ignore the sudden whispers and vulgar slangs pelted at her by the groups beside her.
She fondled with the loose strands coming out of her bun in her pathetic attempts to ignore the occasional paper balls aimed at her neck.
"They have got something new today", she thought in dark humor.
She internally cussed at herself for forgetting her wristwatch at home.
How badly she wanted the time to go fast.
Again she was hit by a paper ball. This time at her temple.
She stifled a sob, furiously rubbing at her stinging eyes.
She won't cry.
She won't cry.
She won't give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
She has not given it to Wyatt and she won't give it to them also.
She silently took the ball in her hand and glanced at her left.
They waved at her in fake enthusiasm as one of them went as far as giving her a flying kiss.
She controlled her wavering mouth.
"Oh my god, what is she doing here girls!?", a high pitched voice coated with bogus curiosity hollered.
All the girls started laughing-except her.
"Well-", another voice drawled-"looks like somebody has left the whorehouse open".
Another fit of laughter echoed through the ginormous ballet studio.
She let out an unmistakably rough draw in of air before trotting away, cradling her bottle in her arms like a shield.
She surely had no response to that statement.
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A/N
Sorry for the late update and yes plz point out any typo mistakes in the content.
And plz give me motivation by giving votes and comments. I will be sure to dedicate a chapter to the voters and commentators.
Love, Izzz
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The Blonde Bitch Syndrome
Teen Fiction[ O N G O I N G ] "They are blondes. They are bound to be bitches. Right? " - Previously known as "Pretty Faces". - Status: Raw Draft
