The Ballerina

The rest of the weekend was bittersweet for Acelynn. On Sunday, as it turns out, Johannes had quit as her ballet instructor. The new ballet instructor was a younger woman with doe eyes and soft brown hair. She seemed uneasy around the younger girl, who was most definitely a prodigy. But the pair got along well enough.

The spare time the ballerina had that was not dedicated to dance or Luke was filled with endless misery of Jojo. She had no appetite, which seemed to encourage her father that she had to go to therapy. But she wasn’t crazy or suicidal. She had been enlightened in a way Tom Adams couldn’t understand.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried,” Luke said to her as they lay together on the park slide, after Acelynn told him about Jojo. “It’s not like she’ll do anything about it.”

“Why do you say that?” Acelynn asked as the boy let out a cloud of smoke escape his lips. She had grown accustom to his habit. She was even comforted by it now; it meant Luke was nearby.

Luke shrugged. “Several people know about me, and no one has said anything.”

“That’s because people are afraid of you. I’ve seen you in your stupid fights,” Acelynn caught a glimpse of Luke smirking, “but everyone thinks I’m some fragile ballerina. No one is intimidated by me.”

Luke was smiling. He was trying not to, the girl could tell. But he was doing a horrible job at pretending. “Well it’s probably because you prance around in a tutu.” Acelynn smiled at the boy. There was something in the way that Luke said his comment that was not insulting – it was more out of affection than anything, in a way.

The lay in silence for many moments; unlike being around Jojo, the two didn’t need to talk every second. They were perfectly comfortable by just being with each other. Every moment she could, Acelynn was either with Luke or thinking about him. Maybe it was obsessive and a little unhealthy; but she didn’t feel like it was unhealthy. She felt relieved when she was around him. She needed him.

By impulse, Acelynn took the cigarette from Luke’s mouth and put it in her own. She could hear her own heart beat right as she breathed in. She didn’t get much smoke in her lungs before the boy tore it away from her lips. “What do you think you’re doing?” Luke sounded angry as he sat up.

Acelynn shrugged and blew the smoke in his face. He looked slightly amused by the gesture, but still angry. “You do it.”

The boy shook his head and closed his eyes. “Yes, but you shouldn’t.”

“What are you, my mother?” Acelynn asked sarcastically. Luke was nothing, absolutely nothing like Acelynn’s mother. But the comment made its point.

“No, but I know you’re not stupid enough to start. Ace, it’s bad for you. I smoke like, a pack a day. It’s amazing that I don’t have lung cancer yet.” Luke reasoned and wedged the cigarette into the plastic slide, leaving a black indent before tossing it away.

“I know. But you still do it.”

“You’re… You’re not like me.” Luke shook his head. A slight pain coursed through Acelynn’s heart. “Well, I mean you are. God, I know you are. You are but you aren’t—“

“I get it, Luke.” Acelynn cut him off softly.

His soft blue eyes looked into her very soul. “I wish you weren’t like me though.” He admitted quietly. “I wish no one was like me.”

Acelynn didn’t know what to say. She felt the same, of course. She wouldn’t even want her worst enemies to feel that sort of undying pain and loneliness. Her very core was numb; and it only revived itself when it let pain in. Only when she was with Luke, did that fact ever change. Slowly, the ballerina breathed in and out. She took Luke’s hand in hers and gently tried to make him lie back down. He did, and their hands were clasped together as they watched the sun set once again.

“When you drove me home that one day, who was that guy and what did you give him?” Acelynn asked.

Luke gave it a moment of thought. “That was my half-brother, Tuck. I gave him some cigarettes. He’s on house arrest so he can’t get any.”

“Is he… Is he like us?” The ballerina asked, as if they were another species.

The boy let out a genuine laugh. “No, he’s not into self harm or anything. He just likes to get in trouble. He just turned nineteen but he’s still legally bound to my dad, and he set a tree on fire near a school.”

Self harm. Acelynn ignored the rest of what Luke said after those words. That wasn’t Acelynn, was it? She didn’t want to harm her body – she wanted to dance. Dancers had to have perfect health. Maybe that’s where Luke and her differed – where they couldn’t connect. “Huh.” She replied, as if she had been listening.

“Tuck’s a pretty cool guy, but if you hang around him too long…” Luke shook his head, obviously disappointed in his half-brother. “He just needs someone to look out for him. I used to be that, but…”

Acelynn wasn’t sure if she should encourage Luke to continue or not. Obviously he was insecure about talking of the subject, but he also obviously needed someone to talk to about his problems. “So you guys are close?” She asked, trying to veer back to Tuck. His named reminded Acelynn of the movie Tuck Everlasting.

Luke shrugged. “As close as brothers.”

“Is it nice having siblings?” The girl asked. She was an only child and like most only children, obsessed with sibling relations.

“It’s okay.”

Since Luke didn’t elaborate, Acelynn figured he didn’t want to talk about it and she dropped the subject. The boy was a mystery to even the ballerina. She couldn’t seem to get a grasp of who he was. She knew they shared a special connection, unique to themselves, but she didn’t know why he was the way he was.

‘You aren’t used to talking about yourself, are you? You don’t seem comfortable talking at all.’ Acelynn wanted to say, and it took a moment for her to realize that she had spoken aloud. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—“

Luke gave her a calming smile. “It’s fine, really. I knew I probably seem that way. I am comfortable talking about everything, but I don’t know how you’d feel if you heard it all.”

“Skeletons in your closet.” The girl whispered.

“I’ve got more than skeletons in my closet. I don’t know – I just don’t want to scare you off. Not yet anyway. Maybe I’ll tell you about me some other time.” Luke amended. He sounded out of breath as he spoke, yet he wasn’t smoking. He looked calm.

“The things in my closet aren’t skeletons yet… They’re still fresh.” Acelynn sighed.

The boy gave a dark laugh. “You’ll feel that way for awhile. The truth is the past never seems to go away. It’ll follow you everywhere.”

“Gee, thanks for making me feel better.” She replied drily. “Since when did you get so deep and poetic?”

He shrugged. “I’m not deep. And I’m certainly not poetic.”

“Certainly? Come on Luke, there’s something about you underneath that bad-boy exterior. You’re like a dark angel. It’s deep. Angels are poetic. Can’t you admit to yourself that you’re special?”

Luke gave Acelynn a meaningful stare, but she couldn’t decipher it. “I should get you home” Was all he said.

It was true; the sun was a dark red with splashes of yellow in it. The moon was rising, symbolizing the end of the day. The end of the weekend. The end of time with Luke. Acelynn should be getting home and get snuggled in her bed.

But the two did not move. They continued to watch the sun disappear behind the suburbs. They did not make any gestures to move or to walk towards Luke’s old truck. Because, as it turns out, even ballerinas don’t do everything that they’re told.