Studio #813

Chapter Three

Now, let me tell you a little bit about Tiffany.

In the physical sense, Miss Tiffany Wainright is quite attractive with greyish-blue eyes, curly, light-blonde hair, and a round face with high cheek bones, and a plump set of pink lips which always seem to have just a little too much lipgloss aplied to them. She also has a set of elongated, lean legs, which look magnificent when being split in the air in a perfect grand jete. 

From what I just explained now, you might think Tiffany quite a likeable girl and easy to be admired. But that is just her outer appearence. When read what I have to say about her personality however, your mind shall be most likely changed.

From a young age, Tiffany's parents had her attend ballet classes regularly and entered her in to numerous dance competitions, exams, and eisteddfods. Her parents were determined for their child to be the best at everything she did, and boast about her every achievment to easily impressed audiences.

As Tiffany grew older, her parent's competitive spirit had begun to show through her as well, resulting in the determined and competitive young girl I had to deal with for years.

As I said, Tiffany is competitive, but not in the way you might think. She does not simply work hard, stretching every night, working out regulary and so on. No, she is one of those girls who will not let anything or anyone stand in the way of her winning a dance competition, receiving better results in an exam or anything else of the sort; even if it means disrupting everyone else's life. She would even go to the extent of tripping her partner up during a duet to make her seem superior in comparison with her unfortunate victim.

I was one of those victims.

I met Tiffany at the age of eight. We both attended the same ballet classes three times a week, at the same times. The first impression Tiffany had on me was one of distaste. The way she walked into class like she owned the place completely put me off wanting to be friendly with her altogether. I could immediately see in the very first lesson I had there that she had the teacher wrapped around her little finger, and had it in her mind that she was the most talented dancer there, and no other girl could come close to being any better than she. All this I thought of when I first clapped eyes on her.

And do you know what? I was one hundred percent correct.

It all started with a simple greeting. Being well brought up by my parents, I introduced myself to the class, asking each of the girls' names, wishing to make 'ballet buddies'. All the girls were very well manored, making me feel welcome to the class and starting friendly conversations.

Everyone that is, except for Tiffany.

Each time we were to do work at the barre, she would always fight me for the position where she could best see herself in the enormous mirrors which lined almost every wall in the studio. I soon got irritated, as Mrs. Wilson had told us to rotate and change our positions where we stood at the barre so she could see us all at different angles. After reporting the situation about Tiffany to her, Mrs. Wilson requested  Miss Tiffany Wainright to kindly move along and go along with the rules of the studio.

I swear, that girl didn't keep her harsh glare off me for one second for the rest of the lesson.

Our rivalry continued as the years went by and competition grew more fierce. Incidents between us  varied from telling me I was practicing a routine wrong to slowing down in duets or group performances to make me look a like I was dancing to speedily a pace. Many conversations I had with my parents about my frustrations with Tiffany, and much advice I received from them about dealing with the brat. By the age of twelve I had just about mastered the art of ignoring the atrocious attitude that laced Tiffany's every word and every gesture she made towards me so I could better focus on my dancing. I was not going to let some vexatious girl of my own age keep me back in my dancing life. I was going to do the best I could without always looking over my shoulder to see if she was up to another sly scheme. 

A month before my fifteenth birthday, I arrived at class, prepared to face anything Tiffany had ready for me. To my surprise she was not in attendence. Finding the situation strange, I questioned Mrs. Wilson on the matter and silently rejoiced at her reply.

Tiffany had been removed from our studio due to the number of students in the class being to large.

For the remaining time of that lesson I danced like I had never danced before. I flew elegantly and effortlessly through every routine and exercise. I felt a sense of relief. I was freed from the constant niggling annoyance of Tiffany Wainright and the the precocious attitude that came with it. Now nothing could stand in my way!

But as you know, I was mistaken. For there was the girl, unmistakably before my eyes, strutting a few meters ahead of me, her blonde pony tail swinging in response to her brisk gait.

Maybe she has changed since last year, I thought, and entered the studio not three steps behind her. But I couldn't keep the niggling thought out of mind that Tiffany was exaclty the same as I had last seen her.

* * *

"Haven't seen you in a while," Tiffany panted, before taking a large gulp of water.

"Yeah, I guess," I discreetly replied, having a good drink of water myself. I was reluctant to hold conversation with the girl who made my dance life purely miserable for almost seven years.

"How long has it been, hey? Seven or eight months?" she said dryly. I willed her with all my might she would shut her mouth and leave me alone.

"Nine, actually" I corrected her. And I thoroughly enjoyed that time without you provoking unnecessary quarrels with me, I wanted so badly to add, but held my tongue.

"Ah yes," she said, in the annoying tone as before.

Awkward silence.

"So why are you here?" I inquired a little rudely, wanting to know why I was being forced to do extra lessons with her.

"Same reason as you are, of course!" she informed me with arrogence, as if she expected me to already know,  "Getting in a little extra practice."

How marvelous.

"Enough chatting, you too! Time for partner work." Mrs. Wilson's strong voice projected across the studio as she put our brief water break to an end.

Taking one more hasty sip of water, I followed behind Tiffany towards the centre of dance floor to start the complicated duet routine that I had previously learned with my ballet buddy, Hannah Myers. 

Oh Hannah, I thought as I observed Tiffany showing off her exceptional over-split, how I wish I had only to put up with your terribly cheezy puns than to put up with her attitude.

This was going to be a long lesson.

A/N

Well, that's chapter three!

Yes, I know this chappie was to only be published this weekend, but, I got so inspired and motivated I just had to keep going.

Also, this chapter is considerably longer than the previous two. Is it better?

I am currently deciding between two major plots for the story and how I will execute them. SO many ideas!

And do you like the book cover? There is a really cool website that helps to edit and create proffesional looking covers at http://www.picmonkey.com/ - I highly recommend visiting the page!

And one more thing: please remember to comment your thoughts on my writing style/grammer/story line! I can't make improvements on my work if I am not made aware of mistakes and/or things gone wrong.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

 Xx DB xX