Barred by Ballet

Chapter 4: The Sentencing

I cannot even begin to describe the temper tantrum that my parents threw back at home.

"Mia how dare you take it upon yourself to go clubbing at such stupendous hours in the night!" Mom yelled!

I never get to go anywhere in the day anyway and who even says stupendous? I thought to myself while giving my mother a twisted look.

"And not to mention with a boy you don't even know - Do you know what he could have done to you?"

Yeah dad, like what? Kissing... uuugggghhh.... I thought to myself while giving dad a pointed expression.

"You've never behaved like this before Mia! What's the meaning of this?" Dad inquired.

"I-I..." I fumbled for words then mom interjected.

"That boy! Ever since he brought his sister to my studio you have been acting strange." She said fixedly pointing her index finger toward me.

"I'm not allowing you to see him again!" Dad informed.

"WHAT?!!! Dad! Noooooo!!!"

"Yes as a matter of fact since that boy came along you have been distracted and your focus on ballet has been poor!" Mother argued.

"What? My focus on ballet has nothing to do with Dylan!" I protested.

"Then why has your performance decreased?"

"Because I HATE ballet!" I shouted.

"Mia!" Dad exclaimed.

"Fine! Then its been decided. If you feel that way; I'm sending you to Pacific Pointe." Mother said coldly without even looking at me.

"You can't!" I yelled.

"You will and it's FINAL! Don't shudder another word. I won't hear it!"

I ran upstairs to my bedroom but dare not slam the door. My eyes swollen with tears - I laid on the bed squishing my face into the pillows. Trying to suppress the pain by creating imaginary accidents of me loathing my both parents - Mom especially. She always does this.

Every time someone goes against her authority or hates something she loves she thinks they need to be fixed. And Dad could care less because he's just a mom pleaser.

This situation is so deja vu I kept thinking. Mirelle wanted to be a cheerleader and she used to sneak off into the middle of the night with her crazy friends. At least I didn't drink booze and ended up drunk on national television. But when Mom found out she sent her to Pacific Pointe Dance Academy - A very strict and well-known dance school for girls in London.

There are a lot of myths about the Russian teachers there, like they use rods to scold the students and make you point your bare feet on rocks to hardened your calli. When I was younger I used to believe them but that's really stupid.

What actually happens there is that they have strenuous dancing routines, long hours, competition amongst classmates and although they have other genres of dance the main focus is on ballet. The school has a high disregard for girls who feels otherwise. Which is exactly the reason why my mother has sent Marielle there and now me.

Just the thought of it makes me die inside more. I won't get to update my blog frequently and I'd be so far away from Dylan and those dazzling grey eyes of his. We didn't even get to kiss. Ugh. I am beginning to hate my life even more.

(Knock Knock)

"Mia, can I come in?" Dad asked.

"No go away!"

"Mia! This is important!" He pleaded.

I dragged myself off of the bed, opened the door and then slouched into my bean bag chair.

"I know this is really difficult on you. Moving is always hard. You have to make new friends and adjust to a new atmosphere..."

"Dad! I don't wanna go!" I whined.

"I know honey. You know, your mom and I love you dearly and we have your best interest at heart, even though at times it may seem otherwise or our ways of showing it may not be obvious to you. But I really think this is the best choice for you."

I nodded my head.

"Okay. Well we've booked a flight for 9:00 am tomorrow so you would need to start packing. And your sister would meet you at the airport in London."

I rolled my eyes when I heard that word 'sister'.

"Mia darling, you'll be fine." Dad said giving me a hug and a kiss on the forehead as he walked out of my bedroom.

What better way to end my social life than to be shipped off to ballet booth camp to drown in the underpinnings of my misery.

I dashed over to my Mac and logged into my blog, furiously typing what might be my last blog.

BARRED BY BALLET

~ Battered. Barred in. Booth camp. Becoming an emotional wreck and social misfit within an ever demanding society of youths that praise relationships, sex, and party life. None of which I'm allowed to be a part of.

Running out of B adjectives to describe the horrendous pain at which I'm forced to suffer at this place. ~

I twiddled my index and middle fingers over the keypad contemplating whether or not I should reveal my inner most thoughts of my ballet life troubles and risk the chance of public humiliation for the opportunity to vent.

POST. That four letter word never looked so mischievous and yet intriguing at the same time. I smirked and hit the post button. Now I feel accomplished.

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Hello hello my wattpad friends. BrownSugar here.

Things are getting really intense in Mia's life. Wow! Did someone say strict mom? O.o"