(Book 2 of 3 in the Weakness Series )
In one year she fell to pieces. Two were spent in therapy. Three to learn self defense. Four getting a degree for her passion. It took five years for Kira to rebuilt herself after being yanked away from the life...
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"Please tell me you aren't serious."
"Oh but I am," I twirl my finger around, hearing the groans of fifteen teenagers. "Once you do it perfectly you can go home and sleep all you want. Let's do it from the top."
I ignore the general hateful whispers and press the play button on the control to the stereo. Within five upwards count they begin the dance I drafted together, seeming to move precisely despite being exhausted. My eyes narrow in on the minor details: toes, fingers, knees and arms rather than the whole piece.
Sitting along the wooden bench are a few parents waiting to collect along with Cleo who is silently judging me. At the end of the first finished count I pause the music, backing the song to the start again having annoyed eyes glare at me.
"Once I single you out, you can leave. I want full energy on this one or you keep going until you give it one hundred percent."
Some nod and others shake their limbs out to get prepared. I start the song again focusing on a few in particular that aren't pulling their weight. I noticed on Friday that they don't give it their all unless both of the sisters are around - which means I need to inspire motivation somehow.
With a huff I try not to roll my eyes at the barely present effort, dismissing two people from the front row after the first eight. They're red in the face, sweating and clearly have been working their butts of regardless of my criticism.
Next to go is the whole back row plus one from the middle. They were lacking the small details but tightened up for when it counted. Those that remain are the ones who repeatedly stuff up or are the slackers. Sadly, most are the latter.
By the time the song ends only five remain, those who are grouped together. I've noticed they're all friends and the ring leader is the one who keeps mimicking everything I say when I'm not looking. The kid forgets that there's glass mirrors that I can see everything in.
"Again."
"No. You said we were done."
I raise an eyebrow at the attitude and shake my head. "I said you would be done if you did it properly. Raise your energy and you'll be allowed to leave."
"You're just jealous because your old and can't do it yourself."
"I'm old?" I almost laugh but instead just grin with a shake of my head. "Not really. However, if I were my old dance teacher I would be singling you out individually to compose a minute routine to this song as an act of discipline. So do you want the old or new way?"
With a few groans I start the music again and they comply. This time they all get dismissed by the second eight count for doing it properly. A few of the parents are whispering, some giving glares as they consolidate their children out of shock at what I did to them.
Packing up the sound box I glance at Cleo who approaches. I loop the auxiliary cord around its holder, placing the remote into the slot and close the door. With the metal door shut, I slide the bolt across before facing the redhead.
