He Loves Me, I Love Ballet

Chapter 18

A/N: Hey look, a quote!

"At that age, it often feels just as good to feel bad as it does to feel good." - John Hughes, philosopher of adolescence.

The man was brilliant.

Here's the chapter. Late, I know, but I really have no idea WTF I'm doing with this story at this point. I wish I could just skip all this Bleh stuff and write all the chapters where Maria and Rian can fall in love and get together and be happy.

I'm a sucker for happy endings. Especially the romantic, idealistic kind.

"In love with love, and the idea of...." Sorry, I'll stop quoting now. That song was stuck in my head so it ended up in the author's note.

If I don't stop rambling now, my AN is going to be longer than my chapter. Which by the way is a set up chapter, so it is short in length but chock full of stuff you'll need to know. I'll stop now. Bye.

Chapter 18

Seven o clock.

No school, no ballet.

But the faithful alarm wakes me up anyway. I guess it can't accept the change either.

I start to swing my legs out of bed and relish in the soreness. I welcome back the after-workout feeling of deadweight legs and strained, protesting muscles - it brings the ghost of a smile to my face.

The rest of my body follows my legs and I walk downstairs. I realize that I get to eat eggs and toast for breakfast; the prospect of such a decadent meal excites me before I remember that I don't like food. I have to catch the disappointment and push it backwards in my mind.

The first egg is blissful. It's easy to eat. The second egg is pushing the limits, though: in swallowing down the first bite, I'm ingesting the "stop eating" and the "you're fat" and the "ew, you pig, how can you eat that". I can only keep those voices at bay for so long. There's nothing I can to do stop them from storming my tentative, half-built walls and wrecking what little foundation I had created. I can only force the greasy, fatty food down and hope the guilt magically disappears.

When breakfast is over and my mother, who is now awkward and quiet around me, is clearing the table, I try to formulate the question brewing in my head as nicely as I can: "What the hell am I supposed to do with myself?"

Mother Dear doesn't know what to do with herself, and turns to an equally flustered Father, who wrings his hands and thinks desperately. "Well," (here he gives a strained and nervous cough) "You can watch television, play a game..." (He clears his throat) "I don't know, sweetie, any normal kid stuff is fine, I guess."

"Thank you for your incredibly helpful suggestions."

(Do I even need to clarify that I was being sarcastic?)

After this interaction, it's up to my room for a day of reading in bed. I'll start with Shakespeare.

Reading doesn't hurt my eyes anymore, not since they stuffed me at rehab. It's nice not to strain against the blurring; at least there are some benefits of being force-fattened

I'm only halfway through Romeo and Juliet when there is a brief knock at my bedroom door. I don't have time to answer before Rian walks in.

"Hey, Maria," he says.

Then he throws some clothes at me. "Get dressed, we're going out for the day."

A/N: So they're going to spend a day together! Will this help Maria or set her back in her recovery? Will Rian and Maria figure out their relationship a little more? How will the day unfold? What will develop? And most importantly,

WILL THERE BE JOY DIVISION?

Wait and see. Oh, and here...

***** A preview of the things to come.... Muahahahaha....*****

~ I can feel it again now, the teetering over the edge. Tipping... tipping... my body at an increasingly acute angle to the sea below, ready to topple...

But something pulls me back from the edge. Something with blue eyes and a smile that feels like home. The something- well, the someone that helped me climb back up in the first place is keeping me away from the waves. He won't let them drag me under. He'll fight for me.

That's why I'll fight for me. ~

***** How did you enjoy your preview? Good, I'm glad.*****