That Summer

It's crazy to think that one fall in ballet class can send everything downhill for one of the most promising dancers in Boston.

But that sure is what it did.

It wasn't so bad for Evangeline at first.

Crutches for three days she could handle. Seventy two hours wasn't long enough to fall out of shape and Evangeline was no idiot - she most definitely would not be waiting two weeks to return to class and training.

It was the end of June and she only had the summer to prepare for the day in late September when she would join the English National Ballet Company in the UK. Evangeline could not afford to take two weeks off.

So the solution was simple. She wouldn't take two weeks off.

As soon as her ankle didn't hurt anymore, she was going to be back in that studio. There was only one problem and that was the doctor at the emergency room. As dumb as Evangeline had been convinced he was, the doctor had picked up on enough to know he would need to take some serious precations.

So when Evangeline Donahue walked into her dance studio in Boston only four days after her fall, she'd been more that surprised to find her less than accomodating instructor Anna with a smug smirk on her face.

"I'm sorry, Evangeline," she smiled. "But I'm afraid I can't let you dance today."
"Excuse me?" she questioned, both annoyed and angered at the greater-than-thou, satisfied look on the face of a woman who had never liked her.
"Well, your doctor called and it seems that if I let you dance and train with us, it could be detrimental to your health. And none of us want to see you hurt again."

The sickeningly fake smile on Anna's face (one that if it was any sweeter, everyone in a ten mile radius would find themself in a diabetic coma) accompanied with the evil glint in her dull, brown eyes made Evangeline want to punch her. Hard.

At the word "we," she looked over Anna's shoulder to the other dancers. Some of them looked just as smug as cruel as their instructor, some of them looked sorry but made no move to help.

But most didn't look at Evangeline at all, keeping their eyes instead on putting on their toe shoes or fixing their leg warmers. Evangeline only threw another fake smile at her instructor.

"Fine. I'll see you in a week and a half," she said.

Anna nodded curtly before shutting the door rather unceremoniously in Evangeline's face.

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Paul was sitting at the Donahue's kitchen table with Martin and Bryan when the door behind him suddenly slammed open and Evangeline came storming in, dressed for ballet class with her bag in tow.

He grew confused for a moment. He could've sworn she was no longer allowed to dance for fear of injuring herself further.

"Hey, Evan," he began. She glared at him profusely, "...geline. What's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, Paul, now if you could leave me alone that would be great," she spat back.
"He was just trying to be nice. You don't have to be such a bitch," Bryan glared at his younger sister.
"Well he shouldn't. I haven't looked at him as anything but a nuisance my entire life. Maybe he could take a hint."
"Just leave, Evangeline. And when you come back down for dinner, try not to be so mean for no reason," Bryan growled angrily as Paul only stared at the table in silence.
"I'm not hungry, thanks," she threw back at him.
"God, whatever. Go stick a toothbrush down your throat and puke up this morning's breakfast," Martin shot at the girl before him.

Evangeline only glared at him murderously before exiting the kitchen and stomping thunderously up to her room.

"Hey, man. Forget her," Martin murmured softly. "She's hot. That's as far as it goes."
"Yeah," Paul nodded back rather unenthusiastically.
"I could always hook you up with a girl in my phone book," he offered.
"We don't want to give him gonorrhea, asshole," Bryan laughed.

Martin joined in and so did Paul but neither of his friends could ignore how his laughter didn't seem to reach his eyes.