QUICK A/N, PLEASE READ
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Hi there, welcome to my first... how do I put this... official book. I have done about 5 books on wattpad before, but this is the only one I have been serious about. This girl's name is Coquelicot, pronounced Ko-Kelly-Ko. It means poppy. She is 16 years old and resides in ATX, which is also where I reside. Later on in the chapter, there is a part with music. There is French in here (as she was born in France and it's her native tongue), but you should easily be able to tell what they are saying due to loose context. If you would still like me to put the English translations, please tell me! You will find the music to the side. Please enjoy, and tell me what you think!!
（★￣∀￣★）
Kisses xx-KW
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"Coquelicot, rise. You're going to be late."
My eyelids sprung up faster than a window screen, the harsh gleam of the rising sun piercing my perceptical orbs like a knife pierces a steak. I heard my caretaker Zuann release a small sigh shortly after I shifted from my bed to the hardwood floor. It was my turn to sigh after she made a hightail to my closet to retrieve the outfit I had carefully lain out the night before. Today I would be wearing a baby blue peplum-style shirt with yellow poppies on it, paired with inky black skinny jeans and equally black converse. As I gripped the wooden bedpost to help stabilize myself, I ran a finger through my hair, pulling out the snags.
"Zuann," I called with a hoarse throat. Zuann raised her head, giving me a small nod. "What time does a normal public school start?"
"Usually around 8:30 to 9:00. After your freshman year, McCallum will start having you come an hour earlier for cours de ballet."
"Je vous demande pardon? I am in my sophomore year starting today, and it's 7:45."
Zuann's eyes widened as she glanced at the pendulum placed atop my bookshelf in the corner. "Oui! Oui! Vous deves vous depecher," she announced as she pushed me into the bathroom, handing me a fresh pair of pointe shoes, my navy leotard, and black tights. I raised an eyebrow before closing the door. By God, I thought, this woman must be crazy. Who practices in brand new pointe shoes? I whacked the shoes on the door a few times and broke the sole. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. I peeled off my clothes from the previous night's slumber and jerked on my tights, yanked on my leotard, and slid on my untied Freed's. I wound my honey colored hair up into a bun and bobby pinned the hell out of it before attacking it with hair spray. A quick coat of mascara and I flopped on my bed. It was five till eight.
"Dieu mierde," I swore quietly.
"I heard that!" Shoot. Zuann threw a bag at me and handed me my book bag. "Off you go. Straight across the street. Not even you could mess this one up, darling." Darling. Zuann knew I had a soft spot for the mechanics of this word, and also that it had a dear place in my heart. It was the last word my mother said to me before returning to Europe eleven and a half years ago. I shook my head a cracked a light smile at Zuann before tottering down the porch steps. I gave the sky a quick glance, making note of the crisp weather, a healthy, cloud-filled sky paired with the temperature of 78 degrees. Magnifique, I reflected, this is one of the main reasons my mother chose Austin. Clomp clomp clomp, I pattered down the sidewalk, legwarmers over pointe shoes and all to studio room C, also known as the rehearsal room for the specially trained dancers. You see, I am considered specially trained because I studied in the Paris Opera Ballet company, a name synonymous with fame, talent, and hard work in the ballet world. I didn't have any doubts about keeping up with the dance curriculum or material here whatsoever, but I still had one major concern on my mind.
