She don't like the lights; j.b

nine

C y n t h i a ' s p o v ;

     I sat down on the floor of the studio and started to stretch, the other girls looked a little suspiciously at me as they did the same. After almost a month in Canada people hadn't stopped staring yet, and it started to become a bit uncomfortable.

I stared back and lifted an eyebrow towards the girls who looked at me and they immediately looked away as I got eye contact with them. That's what I thought.

None of the girls wanted to start a conversation with me and I didn't want to talk to them either, so I sat where I sat and stretched and they did too. It was as simple as that.

    A couple of minutes later of me stretching and warming up an old woman with her grey hair pulled back in a tight bun on her head and a tight posture walked in, "good afternoon fillès, today we have a new student along with us," she said in a strong French accent, and smiled sweetly at me before she continued, "Cynthia Butler Deveroux was it?" she asked, I nodded and returned her smile, "French I suppose?" she added and rose an eyebrow. (fillés means girls in French)

     I smiled towards her, "Oui, mon père est français et j'ai grandi à Paris," I answered with a cocky smile and the teacher smiled pleased at me, (Oui, mon père est Français et j'ai grandi à Paris means yes, my father is French and I grew up in Paris)

"Belle miss Deveroux, ravi de vous rencontrer," she answered and smiled sweetly towards me again, I already loved her. (Belle miss Deveroux, ravi de vous rencontrer means lovely miss Deveroux, nice meeting you)

     When I looked around everyone in the room looked surprised at our little chat and half of them gaped big towards us. I chuckled nervously to myself and swirled my finger around a loose string of hair I hadn't put up in a neat bun on top of my head. I had danced ballet since I was 4, so this was my territory.

     Madam Tussaud as she then introduced herself as motioned us girls to stand up from the floor and we spread out over the studio as she walked over to a pretty advanced looking sound system and put on a classic song from Beethoven,

     "Now mademoiselle Deveroux, go in the back and observe at the choreography and join when you feel like you can do it," she said to me, (mademosielle means Miss in French)

     I nodded understanding, "of course ma'am," I answered and she nodded in response. I walked to the back as some of the girls still stared at me. I mentally rolled my eyes of annoyance, like, was their life so bloody boring that they had to interfere with mine?

     I observed them for a couple of seconds before I felt like my body was moving like I was born dancing like this, and I almost was.

     My father sat me in Ballet when I was four and I continued until I was seven when I had to move because of my fathers job, and then he hired a private teacher until I started school in Britain and I danced there. So it was she short matter of time in my summer break and the month I had lived in Canada I didn't dance ballet, I know what you all are thinking; why ballet? Well, it's pretty gracious and I am really lithesome, so you couldn't really complain, right?