Unpredictable (A Dance Story)

Chapter 11

*and back to Ella*

I scribbled furiously on the notebook page. My doctor had recommended a few things to keep me occupied, like re-learning how to write, with my left hand. It wasn't working out. My name looked like a Kindergardener had written it out. ELLA ROSE FORD.

My phone buzzed on the table beside me and I glanced over, not intending to answer it or anything. When I saw Abbie's name though, I snatched the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ells. We just got back from the competition."

I checked the clock beside me. 10:07 at night.

"Did you win?" I asked tentatively.

"Yes. Well, the group got 3rd, but I won with a solo and a duet."

"You didn't have a solo or duet..."

The tinny voice on the phone cut off and I looked at the screen, confused.

"But you did."

That was Abbie's real voice. I looked at the door, confused. There was Abbie, wearing her studio jacket over an 'Inspire' shirt with sweatpants. Her hair was still slicked back into a bun and her face caked with makeup. Behind her stood Miss Sarah, holding a tiara and a trophy.

"These are yours," she said calmly, walking over.

I sat still while she put the tiara on my head and set the trophy on my lap. Abbie smiled at me from where she stood.

"Thank you," I said without emotion.

"Now Ella," Abbie began, "We can't just leave. We have to celebrate your win!"

I looked at her blankly. Before I knew it, the entire competition team was crammed into my little hospital room. Holden brought over a tray and offered me a sliver of cookie cake. Everyone wanted to hug me and talk to me, but I wasn't in the mood.

"Smile," Holden whispered, "Act happy."

I tried smiling weakly, though it was obviously fake. Everyone else seemed like they were in a good mood. Mel, a little girl on the junior team who'd been pulled into our group dance as a replacement, talked endlessly about her solo. Her jazz shoe had come off and she'd slipped the heel back on effortlessly, keeping a smile on her face the whole time.

"I thought about how you would just keep going like nothing happened," she gushed, "And everything worked out!"

Tristan, Abbie's usual partner (and mine when Ab partnered with Holden), said, "I had to go on and off the stage a lot for the group dance, but I still got to do the solo part in the middle."

Tristan was one of our best male contemporary dancers, second only to Holden. But while Holden and I sucked at hip hop (okay, we weren't nearly as bad as we thought, but...), Abbie and Tristan were extremely good. That's why Abbie partnered with Holden and I partnered with Tristan in hip hop; Ashley, our teacher, thought that pairing someone really good with someone not-as-good helped make the 'bad' dancer look better.

"Nice," I replied.

Tristan beamed and I smiled for real. Just a little bit.

***

Dr. Moore came in to check up on me, and I immediately interrogated him.

"When do I get out of here?"

"It's too soon to tell whether you have complete or incomplete paralysis, and there's not much we can do anyway. I'd say sooner rather than later, though."

"How much time is 'sooner?'"

He sighed. "I don't know, Ella. A week?"

I groaned. A week of more boredom laced with the occasional torture.

"Are you missing someone?" He joked.

"Not someone. Something: a life."

"You're alive. Be grateful."

"Ha. Who wouldn't want a brachial plexus injury?"

He just shook his head and swapped out the medicine for my IV.

***

Mimi brushed out my tangled brown hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. I stared straight ahead, thinking about how sad it was that I couldn't do my own hair anymore.

"Ella!" Called an excited voice from the doorway.

"Dr. Moore. I'm still waiting to get out of here," I replied.

"Good news, then."

I cocked my head. "I'm out of here?"

"This time, with the right medicine."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. There had to be a catch of some sort.

"School?" I asked.

Dr. Moore shook his head. "Sorry. You would have a pretty hard time. I suggest cyber school for a while."

I swallowed and hesitantly asked, "Dance?"

Dr. Moore considered it. "Don't you rely on your arm for dancing?"

"Depends..."

He sighed. "Ella, be careful. I won't tell you what you can and can't do, but use common sense. If you think you can do something, go for it. Just keep in mind that you're limited."

I blinked, thoughts coursing through my mind. I'm limited. It may never get better. There's nothing I can do.

"Okay."

***

Sorry, it was really short. Just a filler. I've been looking up brachial plexus injuries in order to write this, but if anyone reading has a paralyzed arm, I'd love to hear about what it's really like. It's kind of guesswork for me at the moment :/

Anyways, if you were in Ella's position, how would you react? Would you be frustrated with being 'limited?' How about Abbie? Do you think she's doing the right thing in trying to help Ella out?

~HalleBallet