Red Pointe Shoes

Chapter 8

A/N: So sorry for the much delayed upload :c I couldn't for the life of me think of anything to write this chapter. :/ Ah well.

Chapter Eight

Nat crashes onto the bed with a loud groan, whilst I eye her quizzically.

"What?" I ask, looking up from my essay. She moans loudly in response, followed by a few incoherent words into her pillow. "What?" I repeat, trying to make out what she's saying.

"I said," She lifts her head from the pillow, "I am suffering from an overdose of work and drama."

"Aren't you always?" I chuckle before obliging her. "So what's new with you?"

"You wouldn't believe what happened to me today!" She sits up, eyes wide in anticipation of telling me some great happening. "James Loyer talked to me in the hallway!"

"He WHAT?!" I exclaimed, banging a hand on the table and jumping from my seat. Nat blinks, slightly taken aback by my drastic reaction. "I mean, what did he say?"

"Nothing much, just a hi and like." She mutters, eyeing me suspiciously. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to calm myself down. Why? Why would he talk to Nat? He hates Dancers. She is a girl, y'know, and he's a boy. Perhaps- No! I cut off that traitorous thought. He hates Dancers, she hates Trainees. That will never happen. So that leaves me back at square one. Why? A sudden cold fear grips my heart. What if he plans to use her to get to me? Even though it pains me to admit it, I don't know much about James Loyer. All I know are his different fighting techniques and the way he presents himself to the world- Cocky, arrogant and ruthless. But what of his inside? Is he conniving? Underhanded? Calculating? One thing I am certain of- James Loyer is not stupid.

You can't get to the top of the Underground food chain without having the smarts. Fighting isn't all brawn and no brain. One has to be able to think on her (or his) feet to outwit the opponent. No one ever respects you down there if you win by sheer strength. Loyer is everything they look for in an ideal fighter: cold, detached, strong and relentless.

But what of I? Someone once told me that it is truly impossible to fairly and honestly evaluate yourself because, try as you might, you'll always be a little bit biased. My last win wouldn't have been a win if I hadn't exploited the chink in every man's armour. I haven't fought in the Underground since then to give myself a break. I don't know how the people there will view my move. Will they think it's below the belt? (No pun intended, of course.) Or will they simply see it as me taking advantage of a weakness, like every fighter does? If they don't... Everything I've ever worked for in the Underground will be gone like the morning fog.

"Ave? Aveeee. Ave! Avery!"

I blink, shaking myself out of my thoughts. "Hi," I say dumbly, shooting her an innocent smile.

"Looks like you were pretty spaced out, welcome back to Earth." She chuckles, chucking her pillow at me. I catch it deftly and hug it absentmindedly. Oh how I love her pillow, made from the most softest feathers I have ever felt. And guess what? It had been her going away to college present.

"You know Nat? That line would have been more effective twenty three seconds ago." I laugh as she executes a poor attempt to rescue her pillow as I hold it out of her reach.

"Why twenty three? And give me back my pillow you stupid limpet!"

"I like twenty three," I grin smugly as I hop out of my chair and towards the door. "I have places to be. Farewell my darling barnacle!" After closing the door on her loud yelling, I decide that a trip to the nice quiet library would be in order. It takes only about five minutes for me to walk there.

Thr library was built from funds raised by the students about seven years back. It's built in an old fashioned manner with floor to ceiling shelves and huge windows on the other side. Double staircases curve in from the sides of the second storey gracefully before meeting in the middle and forming one grand staircase down. "I'm going to get married here," I sigh wistfully, admiring the library.

"Who's the poor fiance?" Someone snickers from behind me, "The pillow?"

"Shut your trap Evan," I laugh, turning to shove toilet boy with my shoulders.

"I didn't even tell you my name! How did you?..." He trails off, mirroring the same stupidity I had shown earlier this week.

"Please, I've suffered through three days of Loyer yelling at everyone in class. I would know your name by now." I scoff, "Besides, Loyer seems to have taken a liking to you eh?" I ask playfully, laughing. The truth cannot be anymore different. Loyer seems to pick on Evan more than any of the class, and the reason is obvious. He thinks that Evan is a wimp to take ballet, and that is so not true.

"Please, he's just jealous he's not man enough to get into a leotard." Evan mutters, apparently still sore over yesterday's incident. It had been the last few minutes of class and everyone, Loyer included, just wanted to get out of there. As he walked past Evan that day, he gestured downwards and muttered just loud enough for a few people to hear, "There doesn't seem to be much down there."

"Anyway, after that refreshing talk about your bromance with Loyer, aren't you just in the mood for a smoothie?" I beam, linking my arm through his despite him protesting. "I don't have a love life, and for that, no!"

"Come on," I wheedle, "it'll be my treat."

"Fine, woman." He groans.

Yay, smoothies!