Dancing is my "thing"

Chapter 1

I work hard.

I work hard.

I work hard.

"Your arabesque was awful. Just awful!" my mother yells at me.

I work so damn hard, but does that matter? No, because I can never be perfect in her eyes.

"Sorry." I mumble.

"Sorry will not cut it." she says as we get into the car. "We got you into these dance classes over the summer for a reason, to make you better. Now, you are going to stop slacking and try harder. Next time you dance like that, I will embarrass you during class." My mother yells some more.

My mom and dad got me into this summer dance program. A dance program that takes up almost my whole summer. I only have Wednesdays and Sundays off.

My mom sits in on practice every day, because she wants to make sure I am doing everything I am supposed to do. No other parents do this, she is the only one.

My mom wants me to be a dancer, nothing else but a dancer. I have been dancing since before I could walk.

Don't get me wrong, I love dancing. Dancing is my life, but I want to do it for me and have fun with it. I don't want to go through torture.

"Ok." I say to her to get her to stop talking, but she does not. She rambles on and on about how when she was younger she worked super hard to be the best dancer she could be. Until the accident.

I hardly listen to her, though. I cannot even keep my eyes open, because of how tired I am.

***

I wake up at nine in the morning. I am panting and sweating. I just had the same nightmare I have been having for weeks now. In this dream, some guy, who's face I can't see, tries to kidnap me. He chases me down the street and finally grabs me. He throws me into his van and starts taking off my clothes, but the dream always ends there.

I grab my phone, and notice that I have a text.

Sophia: What happened with you and your mom yesterday after class? She looked pissed.

Sophia is my best friend. I met her three years ago. She moved to my school from Washington. She is a dancer and took this class with me this summer. I don't really have any other friends. I mean I talk to people from school and from other dance classes I take during the school year, but Sophia is the best.

I take two other classes during the school year. One group class that has a recital at the end of every year and a solo class that does competitions once a month. Sophia takes only my group recital class with me. She cannot handle competition classes, they're too fast pace for her. She told me she can barely handle this summer class.

I'm just happy I only have one class to worry about during the summer. During the school year is tough, though. I'm not allowed to focus on school, because I have to focus on dance!

To Sophia: yes! She was yelling at me for not having a perfect arabesque! But whatever

Sophia is the only person who knows exactly how crazy my mother is. All the other girls think she is nuts, but Sophia knows everything. I trust her so much.

I decide to get up and walk over to my closet. I pick out a pair of white, high-waisted jean shorts and a white and black crop top (A/N: picture shown). Today is sunday, so I don't have class.

I walk down stairs. My dad is sitting in his chair, watching something on TV. My mom is on the couch reading some novel, probably by Nicholas Sparks.

The Notebook was an amazing movie, and I watch it all the time, but I don't like the book at all.

"I'm going for a walk." I say to my parents as I grab a water out of the fridge.

"Go extra time then normal. After what happened yesterday, you need the exorcise to build your muscle up better." my mother says.

"What happened yesterday?" my dad asks, totally clueless to the tension in the room. He knows how much my mom wants me to be a dancer, but he doesn't always understand how hard she is on me.

"She lacked the strength in her legs to hold her arabesque."

"Mom! I didn't lack the strength. I just happened to lose my balance for a second. People make mistakes, and it was just at a practice. It is not like I was performing." I yell at her. Damn that felt good.

I walk out the door, but not before saying, "Maybe if you didn't screw up your dancing career, you wouldn't be such a bitch to me about it." Then I slam the door.

I start my walk, not really heading anywhere, just wanting to feel the warm air on my body.

I pull out my iPhone 6s Plus from my back pocket, along with my headphones, and start to listen to music. I put on the song Thinking out Loud by Ed Sheeran. I start to sing along.

"When your legs don't work like they used to before
And I can't sweep you off of your feet
Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?
Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?
And, darling, I will be loving you 'til we're seventy
And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three
And I'm thinking-"

I was cut off by someone running into the back of me, and making me fall forward on the sidewalk.

"Excuse me, but watch where the fuck you are going." I scream at the person who knocked me over.

I look up to see a guy about eighteen or so, looking down at me very apologetic.

"I am so sorry. I really am. I was running and looking down at my phone. I wasnt paying attention. Here, let me help you up." He reaches out his hand for me to grab, so I do.

"Thanks." I say.

"Was that you singing? I could hear from way back there." he says with a chuckle.

"Is my singing funny to you?"

"No, it was actually quite amazing. Is that your thing?"

"My thing?" I ask. Is this guy crazy or something.

"Yes, your thing. Everyone has something that they do or have, and that something is their thing." he explains, sort of.

"Umm... well, my singing is bad, so that is most definitely not my thing." I say.

"It is not bad at all. I actually loved it."

"Oh... well, I'm not going to tell you my thing. I barely know you."

"Do you want to know my thing?" he asks. This boy is actually very hot. He has light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He is very attractive, almost giving me a lady boner.

"I really don't care that much." I say as I start to walk away. He is hot, but I can't waste my time talking to strangers. I am going to try and keep my distance from him.

Next thing I know, he reaches for my headphones and pulls them out of my ears. "It's rude to talk to someone with headphones in." he says.

"Does it look like I give a fuck." I put my headphones back in and walk away from Mr. Attractive.

He pulls them out of my head again. "Do you have a problem? Why are you so rude?"

"I have a lot going on and I don't have time to talk to you." I say.

"I have a lot going on, too. You're not the only one. You have to have at least ten minutes to spare." I roll my eyes at him. "I truly don't." I give him a stern look, and walk away.

"Can I know your name?" He yells from a distance.

"Nina."