Dance With Me Tonight

Chapter 1: I can't sing, I can't dance, but who cares, I sulk like Britney

I know how stubborn I probably looked, sitting on the curb, arms crossed against my chest, sulking like a five-year-old kid. But right at the moment, I honestly couldn't care about the weird looks the passerbys were giving me.

Huffing, I got up and stomped my way around, kicking pebbles on the sidewalk, the poor piece of paper with an address close to shreds in my hand.

What sort of parents would ship their own kid halfway across the country to some place they've never even heard of?

Mine, apparently.

Mom's last words rang in my mind. "Her name is Erika. Her son is around your age and I've enrolled you into the same school as him. You'll stay at her place for two nights before moving into her studio apartment, and I want you on your best behaviour."

I had pretended not to hear her, but lied back in the front passenger seat of Dad's car, crossed my arms and continued to sulk like Britney--which, by the way,after a a few plane flights and stops, I was still doing. Beat that Britney Spears.

She sighed.

"I've also signed you up for dance lessons with her. It's about time you pick up a new dance instead of dancing with those street punks." Those last words had really turned it on.

"It's breakdancing", I had snapped at her, "And those are my friends you're talking about." I reminded her for the umpteenth time. Mom was never happy about me joining a breakdancing crew with my friends a few years back. She had banned me from going to practice and made me quit the crew two years ago.

I know. Sucks to be me.

But of course she hadn't heard me.

"It's a whole year, Lori", Dad had finally said. " I'm sure you'll make plenty of new friends. We'll be back before you know it."

I shook myself up and shifted my gaze back onto the empty road, save for a few the few passerbys who probably thought I was batty.

This wasn't fair. How was it my fault their relationship decided to take a turn down the gutter? To stay apart for a while, Mom had said. A while my ass. She had probably hopped on the first flight leaving for NYC right after I left.

I walked for a bit more then sat down on someone's curb again. I called Alexa, my best friend. Alexa and I were friends since our diaper days and we've been inseperable since. But she didn't pick up. She wasn't answering any of my texts either. I closed my eyes and lowered my head.

When it came to parenting, my folks couldn't exactly come clean. They could never agree on anything. Literally speaking. They fought almost every second they were together. Their personalities couldn't agree more. Mom was a hopeless romantic while Dad was a total sleaze. If she wanted a candle-lit dinner, he'd want burgers and pizza. Not exactly the best parents of the year.

Then again, I've never been the perfect daughter. I broke curfew, got into plenty of trouble at school and had had my fill of trips to the principal's office, Friday detention and community service. Not the kid with the cleanest record either.

I got up again, walked for a longer time then stopped to look around. I realized this was probably where the most expensive houses in the area where situated. The monstrous yet grand houses stood far apart, divided by neatly trimmed hedges and spiked fencing.

I looked at the crumpled piece of paper. 319, Jefferson Park. If I was following the correct route, her place shouldn't be more than a few houses away.

316.. 317... 318... 319.

I looked up and was stopped abruptly by the towering mansion in front of me. Out of all the houses in this area, it was probably the fanciest. Whoever this Erika chick was, she had expensive taste. The house was made of polished gray and white stone. The clear window panes and glass sliding doors gave it a touch of modernism. It looked like one of those expensive beach houses you'd see back on the coast in LA.