Unpredictable (A Dance Story)

Chapter 6

"Ah, Ella Ford!"

I opened one eye and peered at the unfamiliar lady. Striking blonde hair, tanned skin, perfect makeup. I had no clue who she was, but I had a faint 'I've seen you somewhere' feeling. When she was followed by a small camera crew, I understood. A news crew.

"What?" I asked groggily.

"I'm Margaret Jones from Channel 9 Action News and we're here to interview you about your accident."

Right on cue, one of the tech guys propped the camera up on his shoulder and another handed Margaret Jones a microphone.

"That's too bad," I said, "I don't remember my accident."

She pressed her perfectly glossed lips into a thin line. "Would you let us interview you anyway?"

"Are you crazy?" I asked, "Do you see me? I'm a mess."

"Listen, kid," Margaret sighed, "The fact that you look like that is a good thing. You will gain sympathy while WE gain ratings! And what girl doesn't want to be the sob story of her school?"

"This girl!" I retorted, disgusted. "Now, can you please leave? I'm trying to sleep."

I could see my grandmother, who was with me today, take a step toward the reporter, as if to shoo her away, but I shook my head and she stepped back.

"Miss Ford," she said, her voice pleading, "I will ask just once more. Please. May I also mention that, if you go on TV, people will notice you. People like the coordinators of your National Dance Contest."

This caught my attention. "You know about my dancing?" I whimpered.

"Why, of course. In your current state, there's no way you're competing, right? That gets you places. Maybe they'll dedicate the contest to you." She shrugged.

"Okay."

"What?"

"I said, okay."

Margaret Jones looked quite satisfied with herself as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and put on a serious face. A few words over an earpiece and they were all ready to film. Wow, I thought to myself, they must never take 'no' for an answer.

"Live in 3, 2, 1..."

"Hello. My name is Margaret Jones and I'm here at UPMC Urgent Care Hospital with the young Ella Ford, a dancer and victim of a car crash. Ella, tell us a bit about what happened."

She thrust the microphone toward me and I put a sad face on. She wanted an interview, and she was going to get one...One she'd never forget.

"Well, you see, I was in a car. Are you familiar with a car?" I asked.

She looked at me strange, then turned to the camera and laughed. "Of course!"

"Good. I was sitting in the car. We were going to the Great Plains, you know, to claim our land. My family's always been quite adventurous."

I strained to remember what we'd been talking about in history class last year when we covered the Great Plains.

"The problem was, the buffalo herds were moving. I bet you KNOW not to get caught in one of those." I sighed dramatically.

Margaret Jones blinked and took the microphone back. "Um, she's - uh - messing with us! Right, Ella?"

"Of course I am," I laughed, and Margaret sighed in relief.

"It's not buffalo herd season," I continued, "Sorry! What really happened had more to do with the llama raid. You see, they're quite angry with my family for personal reasons."

I sniffed as if I were holding back tears. "They just...I'm sorry," I covered my face with my good hand, "I don't feel comfortable talking about it."

My grandmother stood in the corner, snorting with laughter. Margaret Jones had an unreadable expression on her face. The camera guy quickly shut off the camera and took it off his shoulder.

"What was that?" She demanded.

"I told you, I don't remember the accident. I just made my situation a bit more interesting."

She was silent.

"Oh, by the way, I'm sure you'll still get your ratings." I smirked.

***

I was looking out the window, steadying myself with the wall while I developpéd my leg. My mother had brought me real clothes and I no longer had an IV, but the doctors still wanted to keep an eye on me, so I was stuck in this stupid room. I brought my leg into passé at my knee, turned it in, then turned it back out. In class, we referred to it as a 'chilly willy' but I didn't know the official French ballet term for it.

Suddenly, I felt hands around my waist and responded the only way a dancer knew how to: I pliéd, then jumped into a sissone. Only one hand shot into the air, but it felt like I was flying just the same.

"Holden," I said, before I even turned around. I was familiar to his touch, especially during partnering.

"Ford," he replied, smiling. I sat down on the edge of my hospital bed, leaving enough room for him to sit beside me.

"So, no Abbie?"

He shook his head. "She's got solo practice."

"And she's mad at me," I added.

Holden shrugged. I sighed, "It's okay, I'd be mad at me too."

"You were pretty hard on her," Holden agreed.

"I didn't want her to get in trouble. Speaking of, why aren't you at dance? I yelled at you too!"

"What can I say, Ford?" He said, giving a sly smile, "I just can't stay away."

I rolled my eyes. He continued chatting, despite my many pleas for him to go to dance. The problem was, I couldn't even be mean about it. He knew I wasn't serious. I couldn't wound him as easily as Abbie.

"Ells," called my mother from the doorway. I turned to face her. She was smiling big as she held up some papers.

"Discharged?" I asked hopefully.

"Discharged!" She replied happily.

I squeaked and hugged Holden, as he was sitting right next to me. He smiled. "Well then, Ford, you know where we've gotta go first?"

"Home?" I guessed.

"I was going to suggest Sincerely Yogurt, but..."

I looked at my mom expectantly and she sighed. "Be back before 8."

I grabbed Holden's hand and we rushed through the hospital to get to his car.

***

Opinions on this chapter? I was struggling with what to make Ella say for the interview, so in the end my sister wrote it ;) haha. I might go back and change it. And Holden, Holden, Holden! I love him, he's my favorite to write dialogue for. That's probably why I include him in pretty much every chapter.

Vote and comment, pretty please with a cherry on top?

~HalleBallet