The Ballerina

Underneath the black t-shirt, Acelynn’s heart was pounding so hard it began to hurt. She walked down the school hallways with no signs of Jojo yet, which was a relief. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what might happen when they met face-to-face. It was like anticipating the sting of a shot from the doctor. Only the results would probably be equal to or worse than the actual waiting.

The teenagers around her were still staring at her, per usual. But unlike the last few weeks, they were staring at her differently. Surprised, of sorts. Like she had just risen from the dead.

It a way, she had.

She could tell that her hair was smoother and neater, her face wasn’t as pale and sickly, she wasn’t slouching, and she had a confident air about her. She knew all of this because Luke went through the same transformation.

Luke. She didn’t know what to do with him either. Would he want to talk to her during school? Or maybe that would interfere with his ‘dangerous’ reputation by hanging out with the delicate flower. The ballerina.

She wouldn’t know until fourth period, when they had English together. And she wouldn’t know anything about Jojo until lunch. Hopefully.

“Hey there, Acelynn.” A girl that Acelynn thought her name was Carson, but she wasn’t sure. “How are you?”

The ballerina gave her a confused look. Never before in her life had she talked to this girl. So why now? “Uh, hi. I’m okay, I guess.”

“That’s good.” Carson gave her a sympathetic look before turning back in her desk as the second hour bell rang.

Acelynn was incredibly confused. No one talked to her, ever. So why was today so different? “Acelynn Adams, please report to the guidance office.” The intercom said.

The ballerina gave the teacher a strange look before exiting the room with a pass. What was going on? Life had never been this bizarre before. Especially not in school. When Acelynn was in school, it was probably the most boring, uneventful time of her life. Now she was getting looks, she was being talked to, and she was sent to the guidance office.

“Hey, Ace.” She had been walking down the hall when a breathless Luke came from behind.

“Oh, hey Luke.” She replied awkwardly. “What’s up?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Why were you called to the guidance office?” He asked with thick concern laced in his words.

“Honestly, I have no idea.” She shook her head. Acelynn looked around; there was absolutely no one in the halls. Was that why Luke approached her?

“Oh.” He replied. He looked around too. “I’m sorry if I’m buggin’ you. I didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me in school…”

“Oh, Luke.” Acelynn cooed. “Of course I wanted to talk to you… I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me.”

Luke looked relieved, and opened his mouth to say something, when the principal came and whisked Acelynn away to the guidance office. She didn’t even get a chance to give the boy a second look. She was hauled away by her wrist in the opposite direction. The principal was an angry man with no tolerance for children. He was red faced, balding, and divorced. He said nothing as he dragged her though the halls and to the office, where none other than Joan Johnson sat.

Her stupid blonde hair was perfect. Her skirt; tiny. Her shirt; tight. Her face; smug.

Only what Acelynn didn’t expect to see was her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Adams, sitting in cheap school chairs next to Jojo. Thomas Adams looked uneasy and uncomfortable. Dana Adams looked embarrassed and angry. All of those emotions did not include sympathy for the poor ballerina.

“Hey Mom, hey Dad. What’s going on?” Acelynn stuttered.

“Please, sit down.” The guidance counselor, Mrs. Sanders said gently, ignoring Acelynn’s question. Acelynn sat anyway. Like a good little girl. A good ballerina. “I’ve brought your loved ones here, Acelynn. And we all care about you. We care about you a lot.”

On the outside, the brunette was calm, quiet, and obedient. On the inside, Acelynn was finding ways to get out of the room. There were four so far. “I know.” She said, even though she knew her mother didn’t care about her well being, and Jojo was now out to get her.

“Good. Because I want you to realize we all just want what’s in your best interest, Acelynn.” Mrs. Sanders smiled awkwardly.

“Why am I here?” She said in a tiny voice.

“Acelynn,” using her name over and over again like that wasn’t reassuring, it was creepy. “Your parents are concerned about you… They say you’ve been acting odd lately. And Joan has come to me, saying the same thing.”

So this was Jojo’s revenge, in a way. Acelynn’s father had already signed her up for therapy. It could have been easy and away from school eyes. But Jojo wanted her former friend to suffer more teenage ridicule.

It also explained the different, but still odd stares toward her. The blonde had been spreading various rumors about Acelynn. Why, she couldn’t understand. Logically, she knew that the other teens wouldn’t begin to light torches and run her out of town. She had already been shunned by the crowds. Now they were intrigued by her; the only difference was they wouldn’t hate her, hopefully.

They pitied her.

And that was fine with Acelynn; as long as they left her and Luke alone, it was perfectly fine.

Acelynn shrugged in response to Mrs. Sanders’ accusation. There was no use in lying. It was four against one. She couldn’t win. Especially not when they thought she was a mental case. “I guess.”

Mrs. Sanders’ eyes were overflowing with pity and guilt. Of course she thought the ballerina was a lost cause. Why couldn’t she see it sooner? She was a seventeen year old in a public school. She was the loner. Of course she was suicidal. At least, that’s what Acelynn’s theory was on Mrs. Sanders’ opinion of her. It was everyone’s. Acelynn discreetly traced her paper cut that she was sure Jojo told everyone about. “We want to help you, Acelynn. We just need to know what’s going on with you.”

The ballerina didn’t need any of the people in the room. She needed Luke. Luke understood. These people didn’t. She wasn’t suicidal. She didn’t hurt herself. She was just different. “I don’t really know.” Acelynn answered, and for the first time, very honestly.

The counselor gave the brunette a sympathetic look before turning to her parents. “Is there anything you’d like to say?”

Acelynn figured it out; this was like the bargain before a war. To let her know what was going on, and what was to come. To see if the girl would break or remain ‘stubborn.’ They were testing her.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it… I thought… I thought you were happy.” Dana Adams sobbed into a silk handkerchief. What a lie.

But the statement did give Acelynn something to think about. She wasn’t necessarily miserable, she knew. But she wasn’t happy with her life either. She was something that couldn’t be described in words. It wasn’t loneliness – she didn’t feel alone now that she had Luke. Was she empty? No, that wasn’t it. She was Acelynn Claire Adams. And she was herself.

“I don’t really know what I am.” The ballerina murmured without thinking about it, gazing off into nothing.

Mrs. Sanders looked tired. And for what? It wasn’t as if she had been doing hard labor or running in a track race; she was being condescending to Acelynn for not being normal. For not being ignorant like herself. Acelynn knew she wasn’t better than anyone else. But she wasn’t worse, either. She was human, and she was alive. Nothing could change that. In the grand scheme of things, Acelynn was nothing. There was nothing that anything or anyone could do to change that. She would continue to live, and then she would die. Acelynn realized this. And that, that is where she differed from everyone else.

She knew that doom was upon them all, no matter what anyone did. They could do whatever try tried – they could make history, they could discover secrets. They could fly to the moon and sink to the sea. They could make this as painless as possible though the transition of death. They could try and make themselves as comfortable and as happy as they could. But it wouldn’t change anything.