Dancing in Love

Chapter 1 - Reminiscing

Hey guys! Well, we haven't posted for a while! I just wanted to let you know this was written by Emily, edited by Annie. There's a part at the end in Italics, and that is her thoughts.

Thanks for reading!

Love ya all!

x x x

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Dancing in Love

Chapter 1 - Reminiscing

15 Fernbrooke Lane – home.

Or, should I say, ex-home.

As of today, I was officially leaving the bustling streets of Miami Beach and entering the dusty lanes of rural Georgia.

For someone like my mom, who got to leave her stressful, demanding job as a lawyer and settle into the “peaceful life”, sure, it was great – she’d actually lived her life. Whereas, I am very much living my life, as one of the top dancers of the area. Unbeatable, perfect, utterly flawless.

All of the judges at the competitions had said I could get into a top dance college, and dance my way to the top of the chain, and I’d lapped it all up, taking it for granted. As selfish and vain as it seemed, I believed I could become my dreams.

That was, until my parents announced we were moving to a run-down village in the middle of who-knows-where, with no ballet studio for hours around. My worst nightmare, come true.

“Ryleigh, hon, we have to go now. The delivery men are getting impatient; we need to hit the road,” Mom came up behind me, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly. “I know this is hard, but you have to say goodbye now,” she added softly.

“You have no idea,” I muttered, staring longingly at the place I had called home for 16 years. Tears pricked my eyes as I took a last fleeting look at the familiar red brick walls, chipped window ledges and neat flower bushes.

“Bye, house,” I whispered, as I let my mom lead me over to our standard blue car, her arms draped around my shoulders, as if she was scared I’d run away.

Mom opened the back door of the car for me, and I climbed in numbly, not really focussing my thoughts on anything, too upset, my heart filled with a sense of aching loss, leaving my life as I knew it behind for something utterly different.

The only thing that will be the same, my mind whispered, is the car.

“Okay, let’s go,” Mom said, her eyes filling with tears. Hastily she pulled a wad of tissues from her bag, passing a few to me and my dad, too. “Start the car,” she told Dad, casting a worried glance at me over her shoulder.

Not wanting to look back at the house as our car took off, I dug out my iPod from my carry-on bag. I always took this bag to competitions . . . I remembered sadly. Putting the headphones in my ears, I selected the “Shuffle” option.

Spanish Jazz blasted into my ears, and I hastily skipped the track, eyes brimming with tears as I remembered my last – probably, ever –dance competition. By this time, my hometown was flickering past the windows, and if I wanted to get one last glimpse, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to make anything out.

Why did we have to move?

I was doing so well, achieving perfect grades, winning all my dance competitions, having an amazing group of friends, who also happened to be in my dance troupe. Mom and Dad had seemed comfortable with life too, with good uptown jobs and a close social circle.

My eyes began to flicker shut, and I snuggled up on the car seat. Wrapping my hoodie – embossed with my dance school’s logo – tightly around me, I let sleep take over.

-

“And we have a clear winner . . . three cheers for Ryleigh Collins, everyone!”

“With her amazing lyrical performance, Ryleigh Collins has stormed the board!”

“First place goes to Ryleigh Collins! Congratulations, superstar!”

“Ryleigh, Ryleigh, Ryleigh!”

Memories of recent dance competitions floated through my mind peacefully, and as I watched myself twirl and hurl myself in the air, I didn’t notice the tears dripping down my face and into my hair until a boy came up behind me and handed me a tissue.

“Here, you look like you need it.”

The boy had slightly-shaggy blonde hair, cute little dimples and gray eyes, and he looked around my age, perhaps slightly older. “Thanks,” I sniffed, dabbing at my eyes with the tissue.

“No problem.” He shrugged casually, before his eyes travelled elsewhere. “You’re really good,” he added, nodding towards the flickering images of my memory, still floating around me. “At dancing, I mean.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” I replied, blushing slightly. “Mind if I ask who you are?”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, his adorable dimples showing. “Oh, and me? I’m nobody, I guess. I observe things, is all. ”

“Well . . . do you have a name?” I asked, determined to find out who this guy was.

“Obviously,” he replied sarcastically. “It’s C–”

-

“Ry, sweetie, we’re here!”

 -

It's all different, I don't have the center stage anymore. I'm the new girl, no one knows me, I won't have any friends. I won't be the superstar, I'll just be normal.

Something I've been dreading ever since I started performing.

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Okay, so obviously she isn't at school, yet so don't get confused.

We'll post as soon as possible!