Pretending to Fake It

Chapter 1- The Intro

There are all different types of falling and being in love. It could be spontaneous, tragic, amazing, life long friends finally falling for each other, whatever you wanna call it, there are a billion different ways to fall in love. I fell the worst way. The way no one wants to fall in love. This is the story of how you'll find me running out of the prom, pretending to be crying my eyes out. Because I fell the worst way possible. The cliche but not cliche way. Everyone knows the story. I would like to consider mine very different from your normal cliche love story, but that's for you to decide.

Before we delve into the depths of what could be the next modern day Shakespearian tragedy, I'll give a little background about myself. My name is Gene Ashcroft. I'm named after one of the best tap dancers ever, Gene Kelly, not some old relative who died before their time or whatever. I love my name, but I prefer people to call me Ash. I'm sixteen years old and I am not what you would consider pretty. I've got just past the shoulder medium brown hair, and it can't decide if it wants to be straight, wavy, or curly. I just throw it back in a ponytail or a braid rather than dealing with it. I have dull blue eyes, and none of my features are captivating at all. My parents are the best people on the planet, but I keep them in the dark about what I go through. I don't need my mother worried about me. She needs to be worried about her parents. My grandparents (her mom and dad) have been through everything. Cancer, heart attacks, strokes, you name it, they've had it. Between the two of them, it's a miracle they're still alive. Alas, mom is their nurse since they can't afford one. Dad wouldn't know a thing about what I go through. I'm sorry, but no dad really wants to know the truth. Then you've got my little brother, Gavin. He is the most adorable thing on the face of the planet, and if you've got a problem with him, you're gonna have to go through me. Anyways, I've been dancing since I was potty trained. I am obsessed with dancing. Every song that I download, I count or make up a dance to. My shoes are the most precious things on the face of the planet. I have drawers of bobby pins. You might as well put a stamp on my forehead that says 'Dancer.'

Being the avid dancer I am, I refer to my school's cliques as the different genres of dance. The popular people (The football players, and the cheerleaders. You know, the girls who got iPhones when they were 12 because their parents are SO rich and the girl 'besties' who have known each other since they've been like 3, those types of annoying people.) are pointe dancers. Everybody knows who they are, what they do, who their friends are. Honestly, it's kind of creepy.

The wanna be populars would be the ballet dancers who will never be on pointe. Not famous or popular at all, but they try to be and fail miserably. This infamous crowd makes up about 50% of my school's population. They're all girls willing to stab their best friends in the back to be popular. Trust me, I've been the one getting stabbed. You only get stabbed once though, then you learn.

Next up, you've got the people from 'da hood' as everyone calls it. They're your crumpers, hip hoppers, and (I can't believe I am considering this as a style of dance) the twerkers. I used to be scared of them, but they actually turned out to be pretty nice to me one time, and have been nice to me ever since. Let's just say for now that they comforted me during a time that was really hard for me when I was all alone.

After them, you've got the stereotypical, angst ridden teenager. These kids are basically the picture in your parents' head when they look at you, even if you're the sweetest, bubbliest, friendliest kid in the whole school. I classify these kids as lyrical and contemporary dancers. Annoying, both make weird faces, and they always try to make you feel bad for them. (It doesn't work on me. It never has.)

Then you've got the do gooders. The brag about it, rich do gooders. The do everything to make everybody else look like they're underachievers do gooders. They're the jazz dancers. Now, don't get me wrong, I love jazz to death! The old jazz. The kick line, turn a billion times on your foot jazz. I can even do it! The bad jazz I'm talking about is the annoying, weird jazz that everybody is trying to do these days. It's basically a stripper dance on a stage. If you haven't seen it, trust me, it's BAD. VERY BAD.

Next in the ever changing wheel of high school status, you've got the make out people. No matter what, you always see this one couple in the hallway that will not stop making out in front of you. They don't even notice if they're making out on your locker and you need to get into it. They're the ballroom dancers. Both have some sort of public PDA, weather it's rubbing their hands all over each other or making out, they're almost identical. Except one is to music, and one isn't.

Finally, you've got the people who don't dance at all. They don't even know what dancing IS. The geeks, the socially awkward kids, the mentally messed up kids. I'm not trying to be mean or anything, I'm just saying how it is.

Then you've got me. The tap dancer. Tap dancing is my world, the bane of the existence. Without it, who knows what I would be now. I dance whenever I have time, making up new stuff, sorting out the old. As it turns out, I am the only one at my school who dances. Literally the only one. I'm what many of you would call a loner. I don't like making new friends, I don't like belonging to a group. I don't even like having friends at all. And I love every second of it.