I heard the patter of the water droplets hitting the fibreglass roof as I pirouetted across the polished wooden floorboards, where I felt I was instantly home. The dance studio had become as much a sanctuary to me as the confined classrooms at the local high school. Ever since my mother had died and I had been forced to live with my father; I had simply thrown myself, body and soul into my work and my dancing; my sole reasons for life. As I spun around I shut off all feeling except the chill on my neck from the cool air brushing rapidly past.
I was brought back to reality with a sudden crash, upon hearing a clang of metal just outside the walls of my private heaven. I had forgotten that there was to be more refurbishment to the outside of the building this weekend. Nonetheless it would not stop me from continuing with my dancing. As I went up en Pointe I lost my balance to further harsh sounds and movements outside. Much to my annoyance and disappointment I would inevitably have to give up on practise, for today at least. I was sure there had to be some insignificant piece of homework I could find still yet to be done, to fill the tedious hours.
I locked up the studio and walked around the side of the building, refusing to hide my annoyance in front of the builders who were disturbing my safe grip on life. I walked home in the rain and let myself in using the key under the eave. Since I had moved in I had been hounding at my father to get me a set of keys cut and until he, by some miracle; remembered, I was to use that set of keys for conceivably the rest of my stay here. After all that was all I was doing; staying here, just until I turned eighteen and proved to my father that I did not wish to cut him out of my life completely.
I settled down at the kitchen bar with a plate of re-heated ravioli from last nights dinner, I was still wearing my leotard, dance leggings and Bloch trainers however I was comfortable and until that ceased; I had no intention of getting back up from my seat to get dressed into something more appropriate. Father wasn't going to return home for at least another couple of hours so I had no need to worry about his continual disapproving nag about me 'wasting away' in the dance studio.
I woke up with a startle; I was still hunched over the kitchen counter, with last night’s plate of half eaten ravioli by my wrist. It was already midday so father must have already left again for work; such a shame I didn't get to see him at all last night, no doubt he would lecture me about wearing myself out with all of my dancing when he returned this evening. With my thoughts already on the studio, I grabbed an energy bar to wolf down on my way round to the studio, after all I couldn't find a solitary reason for me to stay away a moment longer.
Once I arrived at the studio I realised the reason for me to avoid the building, I would not and could not be forced to dance and shut myself off from the world with the clattering and...