“This is pathetic. Stay in tune with the notes!”
Bringing my hands up, I make sure I don’t strain my foot with all my weight as I try to find an equilibrium.
“More,” she barks. “Give it more passion, Mia. You look like a you’ve got a stick up your ass.”
I’m already worn out, and I’m in so much pain, but I keep going.
Thirteen.
Fourteen.
Fifteen spins…
I have to nail this.
I have to live up to the impossible, high standard that has been set for me before I was ever conceived.
Mom did it. She rose out of nothing and paved a way for herself, making sure that the whole world knew her name. Now it’s my turn, And I have to do it before…
My chest tightens. For a moment I can’t catch my breath and I’m feeling woozy. I lost count of my steps. Opening my eyes, I’m blinded for a second by the light streaming in from the large windows of the studio. For a brief irrational moment, I think that bright light is here to take my mother.
It only takes that one second, that one thought, that single moment of blistering pain in my chest to mess me up.
I stumble and fall. Again.
Loud, bitchy teenage laughter rings throughout the studio, bouncing off the walls when I land on my knee, hard.
“You lack concentration and passion. Don’t even get me started with your lack of form and balance. It’s like watching an overcooked noodle try to dance. It’s disgusting!”
The girls laugh. I look down at my feet, feeling tired and beaten down, but I don’t say anything because I know she’s right.
Swallowing the embarrassment, I get back on my feet but keep my head held high. If pride’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane these days, then it’s pride that I’ll hold on to.
“We spent months working on this routine. You were near perfect, now this?”
“Ms. V., I…”
“You were always a star, but now you show up late to my class. Your head isn’t in this studio. You’re sloppy and careless,” she says each word with emphasis, her voice loud deliberately. I know she wants the other girls to hear her knocking me off my throne.
She circles me, then she comes to a stop behind me. Our gazes clash and hold in the large mirror ahead. Then she leans in and whispers in my ear.
“I can’t believe all of Nancy Montague’s talent, finesse and rare set of skills were wasted on you.”
Everything in me hardens.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard someone say that. My mother is a true ballerina at heart. She’s taller, lithe, not at all as curvy or as short as I am. She was elegant and graceful. I’ve tried all my life, but I haven’t achieved that level of perfection.
But that doesn’t mean someone gets to tell me I’m not like my mother.
In that moment, anger and frustration rises in me, making my insides knot up with tension. I narrow my eyes at her.
“I’m not a waste.” I start, keeping my eyes directly on her. “I’m the best dancer in this class, hell, in this state and you know it, or else you would’ve booted me off a long time ago.”
“Mia—”
“I’m not a waste,” I repeat. “Respectfully, Ms. V.”
She’s silent for a beat.
“Maybe,” she starts, her voice low, a frown marring her facial features like she’s constipated. “Or maybe it’s just your lack of discipline and the fact that you’re so entitled, with that golden spoon in your mouth that makes you say that.”
I keep my mouth shut even though I have an impressive word vomit ready to dirty her up. I hold my tongue only because Ms. V. is regarded as one of the best ballet instructors ever.
She even comes with my mother’s rare stamp of begrudgingly given approval. But I’ve since discovered that Ms. Voldemort once upon a wrinkle-less time, wanted to be like my mother, but she was never quite as good, age difference being irrelevant. I think the fact that she’s constantly reminded of her failures makes her a bitter old hag with wrinkles on her saggy senior citizen face.
“I have discipline,” I argue silently, pushing away the images of me coming undone in Julian’s arms.
“No, you think you’re God’s perfect gift to classical ballet,” she says. “You think you can take on any challenge and pull it off. You have no respect for the graceful artform that thousands of girls all over the world only dream of being part of. You have no discipline. I suggest you take this weekend to go find it.”
Like I said, bitter old hag. I turn around and face her head on.
“With all due respect, I think you should lay off me. I have respect for ballet. I work harder than anyone else in this class and I even have a resume to show for it,” I seethe, keeping my voice low. “If I wasn’t, your school wouldn’t be open right now.”
I regret the words as soon as they fly right out of my mouth. Being mean isn’t exactly something I like doing, it actually makes me sick. But like a wounded animal with nowhere else to run to, I use my automatic assault riffle-tongue to fire shots.
“What you are, Mia, is a disgrace to your mother,” she counters, her voice loud.
There’s an audible gasp that moves through the room. All eyes turn to me, all of them waiting to see what I’m going to say to that, but this time, all my bravado dissipates like mist.
Mute and unblinking, I stare at her feeling dejected because it’s true. I am a disgrace to my mother.
“Hey Mia,” someone calls. “You’re not a prodigy after all, are you?”
“She’s totally washed out.”
“Yeah, she thinks she’s all that.”
“The Ice Queen has fallen from grace.”
I can hear their laughter. If I glance up, I’ll see a room full of girls of all types in here. Different hair styles, different ethnicities, different schools and backgrounds even, but all of them have one thing in common; a grudge against the top Queen Bitch.
Me.
“Mia, your mother would be ashamed of your skinny, ugly ass. It’s probably why she doesn’t come here anymore.”
With a plastic smile on my face, I face the lot of them.
“Give me a break, Mel. Even after all these years in this class, we all know your fat, disproportionate ass couldn’t land a basic Fouetté even if your non-existent friends had to hold your large cannon-like arms to assist you.
I watch with grim satisfaction as her smug smile fades, her eyes flashing with shame.
Body shaming is the worst, I know that. I know better than anyone that it does something wicked to one’s self-esteem, but today I’m just too raw and hurt to care. Besides, she freaking started it.
“And word to the wise, Mel. Buying an expensive, ugly leotard won’t make you take my spot or be me. Try to be smarter than that.”
I don’t know why I zero in on her like that. Usually, I don’t bother talking back to her or any of these bitches. It only ever takes a look to shut them up, but the fact that she spoke about my mother… that’s a hard line.
I spot a new girl I’ve never seen in this class, standing in the corner with her arms folded, staring at me with a smirk on her face that doesn’t sit well with me.
“Do you have a problem?” I question, watching her right back. She pushes away from the wall, then walks to the center of the room, dressed in flashy, rainbow colored leotards, with fake eyelashes, fake platinum blonde hair and a smile that says she knows more about my life than anyone else in here.
“Oh, come on, Auntie,” she starts, walking toward Ms. Voldemort. “Mia Montague doesn’t have a golden spoon in her mouth. I doubt there’s even a grain of silver in her house. It’s just cheap metal.”
Oh. My. God.
A shiver races down my spine as I see the look in her eyes. She looks familiar this girl, but for the life of me I have no idea where I’ve seen her or who the fuck she is, but she definitely knows me. And my life.
I choose to play dumb and offended instead. “Excuse me?”
> “Come now, Mia.” She smirks. “You heard what I said.”
Yeah, I did. And so did everyone else.
“Casey, sweetheart,” Ms. V starts, an indulgent look on her face. “Be nice and meet Mia. Mia, meet Casey, my niece.”
Her niece…
Dread pools in the pit of my stomach as I wait to hear more about this…niece.
“She’s a senior at St. Jude High about to graduate. She came here to help me.”
And there it is. A senior at St. Jude High School.
“Hey!” The bitch waves her little stick fingers with even longer nails like a scarecrow, evil mirth lighting her eyes up as she looks at me. “Nice to meet you, trailer trash.”
“Aww don’t mistake me for you,” I counter then turn to Ms. V. “What do you mean she’s here to help. Help who?”
“Help around the studio, Mia.” Mrs. V waves her hand dramatically. “It’s evident to me that you need more help than I realized.”
In other words, her scrawny, Ariana Grande wannabe ass is here to ‘help’ me dance. Over my rotting corpse.
“Ms. V., I don’t think your niece has any idea what we do here,” I start.
“Mia—,” she starts but I cut her off.
“I mean, I doubt her pretty little head full of air can understand my kind of techniques. It would just be a waste of everyone’s time.”
Murmurs of agreement, something I never actually get, grow from behind me and Casey frowns.
“I know more than you think.”
“Hmm, I don’t doubt it,” I counter, and she smiles.
“Come on Auntie, let’s give Mia a break,” she starts, walking up to me as if she’s on a fucking runway show at a garbage landfill. Her walk needs work. “You can’t blame the girl for being a mess when her daddy’s a mess too.”
No, this can’t be happening.
“What did you just say?” I demand stepping closer to her.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Ms. V declares. “Class is dismissed for today. Next time, be on time Mia, or find yourself another ballet studio.”
Gladly, Ms. Voldemort.
With that, she turns away to talk to another girl. For a moment, I stand there, unable to believe what I just heard from Casey Voldemort—I’m going to call her that from now on.
I look around, feeling the stares of the girls in my class on my back. I can hear them whispering among themselves, glancing up at me every few seconds. I notice them gathering around to look at someone’ phone, then they look at me again.
Something’s happening, but I don’t want to know.
23
Grabbing my bag in a blind fury, I don’t bother dashing to the changing room to change outfits, I just want to get the hell out of here.
But as soon as I make it out of the damn building and into the busy streets of L.A, someone grabs my arm with a vicious grip, her nails biting into my skin.
Spinning around, ready to slap the shit out her, I come face to face with a smirking Casey.
“Get your filthy hands off of me,” I seethe and she starts laughing.
“Oh, you’re a catty little thing, aren’t you?” Casey chuckles, an eyebrow raised. “Where are you rushing off to?”
“Where I go is none of your damn business, now go fetch a stick to shove up your ass or something.” I turn to leave, but she stops me again.
“No, you don’t get to dismiss me, oh mighty, Ice Queen Mia. I know who you are and I certainly know what you did.”
I’m sick of this shit now. So, let’s freaking play, bitch.
“Hmm, judging by the way you’re so desperate for my attention, watching every move I make like a depraved and lost crackhead. I’m sure you know everything I do.” I smile at her, fighting to remain calm. “Please tell me, when next am I supposed to go take a shit? Will you wipe my butt too? I prefer super soft Japanese premium toilet paper, thanks.”
She gasps, looking offended for a second. “You can’t even afford that.”
“And you don’t even know what that is, do you?”
She gasps again, looking offended. “Do you know who I am?”
“Err, a stalker with nothing better to do than to follow me?” I mock, watching her.
“I’m your worst nightmare, little girl,” she starts. “I know what you did to Liam Fitzgerald. I know it was you who planted that bomb.”
I freeze for a minute. It feels like my body just turned into one huge block of cement. Fighting to fix my damn face, I watch her right back, refusing to give her what she’s looking for.
“I have no idea what you’re chirping about,” I keep my voice calm and controlled.
“Come on, Mia Montague,” she says, her face morphing from confusion to fake triumph in less than a second. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Actually, I don’t.” I smile. “You have a crappy day now.”
Side-stepping her, I start walking to my car.
“I know that you messed with Julian’s car. I know you were setting them up and guess what, the police will be knocking at your trailer door pretty soon,” she calls after me, desperation in her voice. When I keep going, she shouts after me, “I know your family’s broke as fuck and your hotshot lawyer dad can’t even get any work anymore.”
I stop dead in my tracks, then spin around to look at her. Behind her from the ballet building, the girls are coming out and they stop short, noticing the scene from Mean Girls before them.
Can this day get any fucking worse?
Walking back to Casey, I get in her personal space and growl for her ears only.
“I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I start. “You’re clearly delusional and you need help.”
“Julian’s mine!” she blurts out and I reel back. Frowning at her, she steps back, composing herself. “Julian is mine and I know for damn sure that he’s going to blow your life up, bitch, and I don’t think your daddy will be able to help you.”
So, this is what’s it’s about. Julian fucking Fitzgerald. I should’ve known. She laughs, watching me.
“I mean, how could he if he’s been out of work for the better part of three years?” Casey goes on. “My dad also told me your family lost that amazing house you used to show-off with.”
Mel and the other girls gasp, and they start laughing. Some of them are recording this and I’m standing there like a fish out of water, silently gasping for breath.
“Tell me, dear, where are you living these days, Mia? A trailer park here in L.A? Must be convenient for your night work, huh.”
For a moment up in the studio, I thought she knew where I now live, but I can see she doesn’t. I want to punch her so bad, but I don’t know why my voice dies down to a point where I sound like a broken record when I respond.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to stay the hell away from Julian. He’s mine.”
“You’re his girlfriend?” I eye her. She’s pretty, yes, but she looks like a loose cannon, with a crazed look in her eyes. So not Julian’s type.
“I’m going to be his wife.”
For the first time in what feels like fucking forever, I throw my head back and laugh, like really laugh.
“Oh yeah?” I chuckle, letting my hair loose from its tight bun, wincing when a few locks flutter to the street. “That’s so cute.”
“You laugh now, but it’s true! We’re going to college together and as soon as he takes over his father’s company, we’ll be running this town.”
I don’t see Julian taking over John’s company. I doubt that’s the life he would like to live, but rock on.
“So, in other words, he’s your ticket to wealth? Your housewife career maker?” I say, my voice eerily calm even though my heart’s strangely twisting and hurting with realization that Julian has a girlfriend after he kissed me senseless and finger-fucked me in that damn hospital supply closet a week ago.
“He’s mine,” Casey seethes, her face looking like a fucking cartoon c
haracter.
“Hmm, yeah sure, honey.” I take her in from her messy hair to her badly coordinated, extravagant ‘I-don’t-know-a-thing-about-ballet-but-I’m-going-to-dress-up-like-a-fucking-disco-ball, outfit that screams ‘trying too much.’ “You can have him.”
And with that, I turn around to walk to my car.
“If I see you anywhere near him, I’ll destroy your little life, princess,” she stresses after me. “And we both know just how ugly it’ll be.”
I know that; it’s already ugly without her threats.
“Did you hear me?”
“Oh, give it rest already, Casey,” a bored, airy voice says. I turn around to see the R.A.C.K., including Kendra, eyeing Casey like she’s filth.
“You’re like a lost puppy in this part of town, aren’t you?” Char says in her accent that I strangely envy.
“It’s like you just want attention from every street corner nowadays,” Kendra says and they start laughing.
“From the byways to the highways,” Roxy steps in, swinging her Sephora bag. “Isn’t it a bit too early for you to be out?”
“Excuse me?” Casey almost stutters.
“Hello, Casey. Nice to see you half-way sober,” Avery says with a smile on her face, her voice still sweet like she actually cares. “How have you been?”
Casey huffs, but I can tell she wasn’t expecting the R.A.C.K. to surround her like that.
“I… you…she…” Casey stutters, pointing at me.
“Come now, Casey, use your tough girl, I’ll mess your life up, words,” Roxy presses, shooting me a wink.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Yeah, we don’t give a shit because you obviously don’t know your boundaries,” Char says, shoulder checking Casey as she passes her. “Don’t forget what we have.”
What they have?
“I didn’t…”
“Run along now, Casey,” Roxy says, eyeing her with a bored yet calculating eye. “I hear you’re graduating high school soon.”
“Hmm, Casey is graduating? Will you look at that rare miracle of life?” Kendra chuckles, looking at her best friends, and they all hum in obvious mockery.
“Jesus did perform a lot of miracles,” Avery says.
Devious Kisses: A Bully Enemies -To-Lovers Romance (It's Just High School Book 1) Page 29