That Girl (A Derek Hale Love Story)

Chapter 9

EDITED

Every Saturday for the past decade, Haylie had woken up to the sound of a 5am alarm with her blinds already open to let the light shine in. Today her alarm rang, and the blinds were shut, with light only peaking in from the sides where the blinds didn't quite fit the window space. The alarm worked as it always did, except this time the atmosphere of the dark room didn't force her out of bed straight away. Her routine had been ruined but instead of working to get back on track, she succumbed to the darkness.

The shock had finally worn off late last night when it was around 2am and Haylie couldn't bring herself to close her eyes to try and fall sleep. She wanted to sleep more than anything, but her eyes just wouldn't close. She lay awake all-night thinking of all the questions she wanted to ask but didn't. All the things she wanted to say to her brother but couldn't.

Deciding she couldn't abandon her Saturday session, Haylie pulled herself to a sitting position and pulled her hair into a bun. The loose strands tickling her face made her feel like a spider was crawling over her skin. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and let out a deep, long sigh as preparation for standing up and leaving the comfort of the thick comforter and feathered pillows. Her eyes caught the mirror standing on top of the cheap acrylic desk and she began to nod to herself. "You've got this girl." She told herself before slipping out of the bed and trying to continue with a sense of normality.

Haylie had been attending the same studio since she was 6 years old and first discovered her passion for ballet. Not much about it had changed over the years. The parking lot was still only big enough for 20 cars with one tree standing at the front of the building. The windows covered the entire front first floor of the three-floor building, showing off the gym inside with only 6 people taking advantage of the Saturday morning silence. Haylie moved round to the side of the building where the entrance to the stairway stayed hidden from the usual gym goers. This was one thing that had changed over the years. Multiple girls' mothers had complained about having their daughters walk through a sweaty gym, filled with middle aged perverts, in just their leotards and tights. Haylie's mother included.

"You're late." Danas voice echoed from the front of the ballet studio as the rest of the class continued to practice their plie at the bar. "Would I care about the excuse?"

Haylie dropped her bag at the side and fell down next to it where she could pull of her grey sweats and change from her sneakers to ballet pumps. "Probably not." She replied, refusing to look up from her shoes. While Dana hadn't even bother to look in Haylie's direction, she knew the reflection in the mirror was giving her position away. "Sorry Dana." She said just loud enough to be heard.

Dana had been coaching Haylie and multiple other girls since day 1. She built a bond with each and every girl and boy that came through the doors that lasted more than a year. It took a year for the students to realise, Dana wasn't a bitch she was just passionate. Whenever she was harsh or blunt with you it was because she knew you could do better. And so, anyone that made it past the first year was sure to be here for life, their career placed in the hands of Dana.

Anyone watching Haylie dance would never be able to guess her mind was elsewhere, mainly because it wasn't. Her mind wasn't on yesterdays events or her phone that's been switched off for 12 hours. It was focused on her Allonge's and her Allegro's. She found peace and quiet again and there was no fear lingering up her spine. Unfortunately, it was over before she realised 3 hours had passed.

With 20 hours a week minimum needing to be completed, just for her own personal benefit, Haylie had a few hours to kill before it was her time to return for another session. After pulling her sweats back on, she let herself slide back down next to her bag and decided it was now or never on turning her phone on.