CHAPTER ONE
- THEN -
Eight years ago
WHEN I WAS ELEVEN years old, my life changed forever though I didn’t know it at the time.
I was in my favorite black leotard, a baby pink tutu secured around my waist, as I sat on a bench in front of my father’s classroom. I was wide-eyed as I looked at my surroundings. I’d never been inside a high school before. So far, the experience was an intimidating one.
Usually, Dad would pick me up straight from whatever after school club I was attending that day and we’d head straight to the hospital to visit Mom for a few hours. However, my ballet class for today had been cancelled at the last minute. So I was stuck here. Waiting for Dad to finish work.
I liked Ballet, and even Karate, but piano lessons were the absolute worst. I hoped Mom would get out of the hospital soon; then she’d be able to come get me from school at a normal time. I wouldn’t have to go to so many extra classes, or stick around waiting for Dad to finish work.
I’d told him repeatedly that I could walk home by myself. Loads of my friends did. But he wouldn’t listen, and he couldn’t really afford to pay anyone to look after me. He had to pay Mom’s hospital bills, and the mortgage on the house, as well as Nana’s bills at her nursing home. I’d overheard him worrying about it over the phone to Uncle Luke one day. I wasn’t a baby, and it frustrated me that Dad insisted on treating me like one.
I could have been at home right now, watching my favorite dance show on the TV. Instead, I was growing increasingly bored sitting around with nothing to do. The elementary school had called Dad after our Ballet instructor hadn’t shown up for the after school class. He’d spoken to me over the phone and told me to come to his classroom as soon as my friend Anna’s mom dropped me off. But I could see that there were three other teachers in there with him, and I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt.
I sighed, yanking at my hair, as I slumped further down the wooden bench. I’d pulled the long blonde strands of my hair into a tight bun for ballet, and it was beginning to hurt my head. Mom always did my hair much nicer, and it never hurt when she did it.
I couldn’t wait for her to come home. The house had gotten a little messy, with the dishes and the laundry piling up, and Dad said that we’d have to stay indoors this weekend to clean everything up, but I didn’t mind at all. I was just happy that she was coming home, and I wanted everything to be nice and perfect for her.
I peeked inside Dad’s classroom again, and saw that they were all still talking. I moved back to the bench, but looked up when I heard several thunderous footsteps echo down the hallway.
“Hey, watch out!” a voice yelled. I jerked my head to the left just in time to see a football headed straight towards me. My hands moved quicker than I’d thought possible to catch it before it collided with my face. Startled, I threw it back in the direction it came from.
The football headed straight towards the guy that had yelled out, catching him right between the legs. Right in his boy parts. He doubled over with a muffled ‘oof’ sound, and all his friends began to laugh and rib him.
A little giggle escaped me as I watched the boy’s reddened face. The giggle – feminine and soft in the face of all the male laughter – seemed to pierce the air and they all stopped short to look at me.
“Who are you? And what the heck are you doing here?” one of the guys asked. He was further away from the rest, and was wearing a red baseball cap. I guessed it was him that the other guy had been aiming the football at. I shrank back a little, feeling shy.
“I’m waiting for my dad,” I said, my voice coming out sounding exceptionally small. I tugged agitatedly at the hem of my tutu.
“That was one quick reaction. You caught that ball out of nowhere.” He chuckled. “Nice aim, too.”
The last line had the rest of the guys laughing all over again.
“Fuck, that hurt.” The guy who’d been on the receiving end of my aim straightened. He had an eyebrow piercing. That was the first thing I noticed. I’d gotten my ears pierced not long ago, but Dad said that I’d have to wait till I was eighteen to get any more piercings. The second thing I noticed was his startling grey eyes. They reminded me of thunderstorms, and they did funny things to my stomach. They were also currently glaring in my direction. “You little brat.”
I straightened indignantly, the butterflies in my stomach all but disappearing. “You’re the one who almost gave me a black eye. Your aim sucks,” I told him loftily, my chin rising slightly in response to his glare. He should be apologizing for nearly hitting me with the football – not calling me names. “You big oaf,” I added.
His mouth fell open in disbelief. “‘Oaf?’ You cheeky little–“
“Let it go, Kellan,” the guy with the baseball cap laughed, clapping his friend on the back.
They all began walking away, but not before the guy with the eyebrow piercing – Kellan – looked back with a mocking smile. “Later, Ballerina.”
* * *
I saw Kellan again later that day. I’d wandered away from the bench, feeling braver as the day got later and the school emptied further. Dad had told me to help myself to whatever I liked from the vending machine, and I had decided to take him up on it.
I was walking back towards the bench outside Dad’s classroom, throwing my empty chocolate wrapper in a trashcan, when I saw him. I paused nervously, wondering if he was still mad about the football.
He was with two other guys – though they didn’t seem to be his friends from earlier. They looked older. Seniors, I was guessing from the football jackets they wore. Thankfully, none of them had noticed me.
“…fucking prick. You think I wouldn’t find out that you’ve been doing my girlfriend? You’ve been here a week and already think you’re the shit,” one of the guys was saying as he slammed Kellan up against a locker. I wondered what he’d been doing with the other guy’s girlfriend that had made him so angry.
I expected Kellan to look scared, or at least a little worried. There were two of them, after all, and they were bigger and taller, but he just smirked.
The guy’s fist came out of nowhere and caught Kellan on the jaw. When the guy pulled back with a curse, Kellan spat some blood on the ground, looking unfazed. It must have hurt a lot, but Kellan hadn’t even flinched. I was impressed.
I began edging backwards, but then remembered the brown belt I had at home. I’d been learning Karate for years. I wasn’t completely helpless. And how cool would it be if I could say that I’d gotten involved in a fight with a couple of high schoolers?
I crept up behind them, deciding against using some of the moves I’d been taught over the past few years. These guys were just too big. Kellan’s eyes widened a little as he caught sight of me over the guy’s shoulder. The other boy in a jersey was rummaging through Kellan’s pockets, probably looking for something to steal.
I crept forward and kicked the guy holding Kellan in the back of his right knee. When his leg bent and he lost his balance a little, I grabbed his jacket from behind and pulled. He fell flat on his back, and I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t actually expected it to work. When his friend turned around, I ran, feeling the insane urge to giggle.
“Wait, right there!” a severe voice called out, stopping me short.
Maybe they hadn’t been talking to me. I took a peek over my shoulder.
No such luck.
A woman was standing in an open doorway, her mouth a little slack. She had her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at us through the small, round spectacles that were perched low on her nose. She looked at the guys first, who were looking at me in astonishment, before her eyes settled on me. She looked at a loss for words.
“Who are you?” she finally settled on.
“In very serious trouble, don’t you worry about that,” a familiar voice said from behind me. Dad.
I turned around slowly, wondering if there was any way out of this. “Hi, daddy,” I said, my eyes widening as I stared up at him.
He wasn’t moved.
He crossed his arms as he surveyed all of us. “My classroom,” he said, voice firm. It was odd seeing him look so serious in one of his work suits. He usually changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt as soon as we got home.
He tugged my hand, letting everyone else walk ahead of us, as we made our way back to his classroom. The guys stormed past, giving me sullen, yet at the same time amazed, looks. Kellan walked past slowly, and gave me a short nod. I nodded back with a straight face, and his lips quirked a little.
“I don’t know exactly what I just walked in on, but you were not getting involved a fight, were you, April?” Dad looked at me sternly.
“I was just trying to help,” I said honestly.
He shook his head in exasperation. “We’ll talk about this at home. Come on.”
When we got back to his classroom, I resumed my seat on the wooden bench. The door to the classroom had been left slightly ajar. I could see that the two guys, Kellan, and the teacher from the hallway were all inside. Dad walked into the classroom, shutting the door behind him.
I was tempted to eavesdrop, but held back. Dad was upset enough with me as it was.
After a while, Kellan walked out by himself. His jaw was swelling, but he had an unmistakable swagger to his step. He shook his head at me as he walked by, a smile on his face. “You’ve got some balls, kid.”
And that smile.
Wow.
It was the day my crush on Kellan Reed began. The day I sometimes, years later, recalled fondly, or otherwise cursed.
I smiled back at him, feeling oddly shy. “I know,” I said proudly.
“Not many people can say that they got their ass handed to them by a ten-year-old in a tutu. I’m gonna enjoy rubbing that in the jerk’s face.” He laughed, running his fingers through the dark strands of his hair, as he headed towards the exit. My smile slipped away, and I scowled at his retreating back.
That was the gratitude I got? He hadn’t even said thank you.
And I was eleven, not ten, I felt like shouting out after him, but restrained myself. Almost eleven and a half, in fact.