My Dance Instructor's Assistant

MDIA [Ch. 12]

My Dance Instructor's Assistant

Previously: . Apparently the middle school kids weren't able to come here, so David and I are going there for fifth and sixth period. David placed his arm around my abdominal, resting his hand on my waist, but I decided not to think anything of it. "And I'm sure all the guys at school would dread it if you broke your face," he added with a hint of sarcasm. I snorted. "Oh please, my face is the last thing the guys at school look at when they stare at me. Apparently there's a To Do List going around with my name on it," I say with fake enthusiasm. "So I've heard," he muttered as he pulled out his keys when we neared the car.

Chapter 12

Today I feel like crap. I woke up this morning feeling like crap, I put on the some clothes that look like crap, and you know what...I really don't give a crap. And to top it off, my parents took my car away this morning. See, my parents aren't fond of me wanting to study dance in college. The'rey always trying to get me to do something "better" with my future career. They've honestly never supported my dancing. Everyone else in my family are either lawyers, doctors, or own businesses, and my parents feel as though dance will get me nowhere in life.

Sometimes I wish I had the kind of parents that were proud of their child's dreams, you know, the ones that encourage them to be the best they can. The kind of parents who say "you can do anything you put your mind to", yeah...I wish my parents were like that. And to make matters worse, I'm the only child, so in their eyes, I have to live up to their career standards, which is complete bull.

So this morning while I went downstairs for breakfast, of course like usual, they had something negative to say about my talents. "I just don't see why you don't want to study something that'll be more useful for you," my mom had said. Then we got into a big argument with me saying how they should support me more. Then one thing led to another and BAM! The next thing I know, I'm getting out of the passenger's seat of my dad's car.

He drove me to school on his way to work. "Your mom will pick you up after school, okay?" my dad had called out before I shut the door.

"No need. I have a ride," I had lied before shutting the door. I honestly have no idea how I'm going to get home after practice, maybe I could ask David. He's always been the more understanding out of the two. So if you haven't guessed by now, I've been in a rather crappy mood all day.

I was literally so pissed off that I was near tears. That's how angry I am at them. Why can't they be proud of my talents? Why can't they say something like "I'm proud of you for trying to follow your dreams"...huh? Does anyone know? If so, please tell me because I absolutely have no idea.

It's now sixth period and I've avoided talking to anyone. Because with the way I'm feeling right now, I know that if someone says something to be and I open my mouth, I'd snap.

They could be asking me for a piece of paper and that'll set me off. And I don't like taking my anger out on innocent bystanders so in order for me to not go off on someone, I try to distance myself and not speak to anyone. Sophia knows this. She knows how my parents feel about me wanted to pursue a dancing career. She's the only person I can talk to about it. I was at my locker when the bell rung for me to get to Mr. Wilson's class, but honestly, I didn't care.

I sauntered to his classroom, making a seven minute walk turn into a fifteen minute walk. I open the classroom door and entered, not looking up, not bothering to announce my presence or make an excuse for my lateness. I noticed Sophia shake her head at Mr. Wilson, warning him not to say anything, but he ignored her. "Ms. Quinn, would you like to explain to the class why you were late?" he asked in his professional voice.