The Ballerina and the Rocker

Quinn

Black duffle bag nestled safely at her side, Quinn sat down on the shiny hardwood dance floor, opened her bag, and reached inside for some cloth bandages and medical adhesive tape. The routine was absolutely second nature by now, as Quinn wrapped the tape and bandages around her battered toes.

The constant torture her feet and toes endured for her love of ballet was necessary, but as much as Quinn accepted this fact she was never too keen on sharing her crooked, usually bruised toes with the world, always ensuring they be covered up as much as possible.

She was a pro at surfing down wooden floors in her stocking feet.

Her canvas pointe shoes were worn, but good. A light, faded pink, with a few holes working their way through, and they fit her feet to a tee. After placing padding inside the ballet slippers, Quinn flexed her foot and wove the ribbons above and around her ankle. She repeated the process on the other foot.

She always studied herself carefully before diving into dancing; Quinn was notorious for needing things specific and on point - a mild case of OCD. Her purple leotard and black tights looked incomplete without a wrap-around skirt, which she promptly took from her bag and put on. With her hair tied perfectly up in a traditional ballerina bun, Quinn began her stretches at the dance bar.

About fifteen minutes had passed when Quinn heard a knock on the door of the rehearsal room. She spun out of her pirouette and opened it. A tall, lean boy stood in the doorway. He was tan, had shaggy brown hair which must have looked perfect windblown, eyes that matched, and an infectious smile.

“Hi,” the boy said. He must have danced at the Huntington Dance Academy as well. Not just because he was there, but because of his thin but muscular body. And from the confident way he held himself he wasn't just a dancer but a damn good one.

“Hello,” Quinn replied. She hated being interrupted when she was practicing, but didn't let it show.

“I’m Jackson.” He offered his hand to Quinn, which she shook.

“Quinn.”

“Hi Quinn. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just that I wanted to meet you before I went home. I’ve danced here for years and it’s always exciting to see a new face. How long have you danced?”

“About fourteen years now,” she replied kindly.

“Wow, you must be good.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m decent.”

“Well, I look forward to dancing with you. I’m assuming you’ve heard we’re putting on The Nutcracker this December?” She nodded. “Make sure you audition.” With a wink, Jackson said good-bye and left Quinn alone in the studio.

She wouldn’t have time to practice her Juilliard audition and be in the Nutcracker.

Zacky

Even though they lived in Southern California where the sun always shined and the temperature rarely dropped below 55 degrees when the rest of the country was experiencing post-apocalyptic snow storms, the beginning of the school year always made it seem like the warm, cheerful weather was going to run out. Zacky, Brian, and Matt sat out on Zacky’s front yard in lawn chairs, while Jimmy opted to sprawl out on his back, hoping to soak up as much as the ending summer as possible.

“Guys, what are we gonna do about Wendt?” Matt asked of their friend and bass player. “He’s just not working out.”

“We just need to play a gig,” Brian said.

“We’ve played one,” Matt continued, “and he was fine, but he’s been scattered lately. I just don’t think his head’s in this.”

“Do we kick him out?” Zacky asked. Matt shrugged.

“We should talk to him, though.”

“But then we’re out a bass player.”

“I play bass,” a new voice interjected.

The boys looked up and saw Zacky’s younger brother, Matt, and another boy at his side, the one who had spoken, walking towards them from the sidewalk. He was the same height as Matt Baker, which automatically meant he was shorter than any of the other guys on the lawn, and wore a cocky grin.

“Guys,” Matt Baker said, “you remember my friend Johnny, right?”

“You fuckin’ play bass?” Brian asked, amused. Johnny nodded.

“And I’ve heard you guys before, and your bass player blows,” Johnny retorted. The guys laughed.

“Yeah, okay. What are you, like, twelve?”

“I'm fourteen!” The guys roared.

“Matt,” Zacky told his brother as he tried to hold back his laughter, “just go inside. I think mom was looking for you.”

“You guys are dicks,” his brother responded as he and Johnny rushed past the group of hyenas and went into the house.

“I’m fourteen!” Jimmy mimicked as he held down his stomach from laughing too hard.

“Ok,” Matt said, regaining his composure, “maybe we’re not that desperate.”

Zacky couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed that hard, and he knew he was going to get some shit from his brother for it but he didn’t care. What was he going to do about it? The little punk.

He heard Brian start talking about something but didn’t catch what it was. Instead, Zacky turned his attention to the station wagon that had pulled up in the next door driveway.

Out stepped Quinn from the passenger seat, and her mother from the driver’s side. Quinn grabbed a duffle bag from out of the back seat and said something to her mother, who then went inside. She looked over and caught Zacky’s gaze. She gave him a friendly wave. Realizing a little too late that he was literally just staring at her, Zacky immediately put on a smile and waved back. Then, without thinking, he got up and jogged over to her.

“Hi,” he said as he got next to the car.

“Hey,” she replied. The duffle bag was swung over her right shoulder and her arms were crossed.

“How’s it going?”

“Good.”

During the pregnant pause that followed, Zacky took the time to notice how elegantly her long hair had been pulled up into an intricate bun atop her head. It almost seemed impossible to have all that hair fit in such a tiny space.

“And you?” Quinn said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, good.”

The duffle bag on her shoulder looked like it could knock her over, she looked so lean and tiny.

“Um,” he continued, “do you want to meet the guys?” She nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” She dropped the bag down next to her and followed Zacky over to the lawn chairs.

“Hey guys,” Zacky addressed the group. “This is Quinn, she lives next door. This is Matt, Jimmy, and Brian.” He pointed to each boy as he said their name.

“Nice to meet you guys.”

“They’re in the band,” Zacky continued.

“Oh, very cool.”

“So, how are you liking Huntington Beach so far?” Matt asked.

“It’s ok, I guess,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “I haven’t really done a lot yet except dance and stuff.”

“You’re a dancer?” Zacky asked.

“Ballet. Since I was three. Hence the attire,” she motioned to her her tight spandex leotard which was layered with a pair of baggy sweatpants.

“Cool.”

“Yup. You have Metallica, I have Tchaikovsky.”

The guys chuckled but all Zacky did was smile and stare at her. She stared back and he noticed pink rush into her cheeks. She quickly broke the gaze.

“Um, anyway, nice to meet you all again,” she added. “I’ve got to get inside.” She waved to the group before heading back to pick up her bag and head inside the house. Zacky took his seat back.

“Smooth,” Matt said to Zacky.

“What?” he responded, playing dumb.

“Your staring is really subtle.”

“Shut up.”

“Zack, she’s cute,” Jimmy chimed in, letting him know they all approved of his crush.

Quinn

Her cheeks felt warm.