Chapter 2 : Ms. Rayne.
O.o Yes indeed. This is being continued. The next couple of chapters I have written out, and they are setting up a plot. Then maybe ten chapters will just be the students' reactions. So story time dearies!
She smiled thoughtfully. It was quite ironic. The two worst students of first year were now, clearly, doing very well. They were two of the country's best four dancers, which threw them into a national competition, the national completion of the dance world. The Prix de Fonteyn. And the oddest part was the fact that either of them had a shot. Tara… Not as much. But Ms. Rayne thought of Sammy. His solo was creative, original, and just plain brilliant. If it was well-executed and the judges appreciated it, there was little question he would win. Ms. Rayne down at the paper in her hands. It was the form Sammy or Tara would fill out if one of them won. The form they needed to fill out to transfer, full ride, to any dance academy in the world for third year. It was at that moment that the terrible call came.
"Yes, may I speak to a….. Miss Rayne?"
"This is she."
"Well, this is the Sydney Medical Center. We have instructions to call you anytime we have to deal with an unidentified dancer… This one has black pointe shoes, if that is any clue."
"Sammy." Miss Rayne whispered. Please no, she thought. He's come so far, she thought. She cleared her throat, biting back tears. "That is most likely a second year, Samuel Liberman. What happened?"
The other end searched for a picture of Samuel Lieberman in Google. The first hit could very well match the mangled corpse on the metal table in front of them. They both were small in stature, Caucasian, with curly hair. "He was hit by a car. He didn't make it."
Ms. Rayne's eyes widened. The phone dropped out of her hand, her white-knuckled grip on the phone releasing as a terrible thought popped into her head. In the beginning, there were three academy students in the Prix. Then Grace moved, and Sammy died. Tara's the only one left to represent us.
Miss Rayne knew what she had to do right away. His friends had to know, and she couldn't be crying when she told them. She emotionally cut herself off and stood up. She clunked down the stairs and to the studio most of the second years should be in.
"I have to interrupt class."
A look of panic, then confusion crossed Zach's face. He masked it. "Okay, the floor's yours," He responded.
She looked over the bewildered faces. "Your classmate Samuel Lieberman was involved in a car crash this morning." She paused. "He didn't make it. You have the rest of the day off."
One student tore across the room, grabbing her dance bag in a single motion and leaving the room. Abigail. She hadn't even bothered to take her pointe shoes off before running out. Poor girl, Lucy thought. Heartbroken. Everyone had known about when someone finally got through Abigail. Now Lucy finally knew who. Katrina, Ben, and Ollie froze for a second, clearly waiting for the words, "You've been punk'd" or "Not really" or "Did I say Sammy? Oh I meant…" Completed by the name of someone they'd never spoken to. It never came. Kat put on flats and left, presumably to find Abigail, with the majority of the students. Ollie just looked confused. And Ben looked lost for a few minutes, until his eyes settled on Ollie. Ben was at Ollie's side as it finally hit the older boy. All of it. Ollie's heart visibly shattered into a million tiny pieces across the floor. Miss Rayne saw him die inside.
Someone's not here. Someone close to him. There were two. Tara was at the Prix prelims, and Christian was ditching class. It was two more times the words had to be said. 'Sammy didn't make it.' The thought of telling even one more person made Lucy feel ill. But then all the students would know, and the only thing left would be to tell his parents. She turned to Zach, saying in a quiet voice, "Could you please tell Christian? I can't bear to break another student."
He nodded solemnly and she left. Back to her office to do her job.
She went into her files, looking for the number she needed to dial, the people she needed to tell that their oldest son was dead. A wishful thought passed through her mind. Unless the body wasn't really Sammy. It was Prix week. There were plenty of dancers in Sydney. She shook her head. Better to believe it was him even if it wasn't, then to think it was and have her heart dashed to pieces when they finally confirm it is.
She got on the line to his parents' house. Only after the man at the other end finally hung up did Lucy come back out and cry. Cry for the loss of a student, a young life dashed on the pavement, a bright red stain to float away in a few rainstorms time. The school lost a student. The family lost a son, a brother, a grandson. The dancer. The other students lost a beacon of sun. A friend, a boyfriend, a goddamn Sammy.
The world lost a brilliant dancer, struck down in the prime of his career and now he was GONE. Samuel Lieberman was just a memory, fading slowly in the minds of everyone he knew, everyone who loved him and everyone he loved. He had been doing so well. He was in the friggin Prix de Fonteyn before some asshole struck him down, a crumple of blood and guts and broken bones mashed under an RV and left on the road. And in an instant his career was over forever.
A dancer who died mush too young, and just when the dance world had begun to go his way. A tragedy of the highest caliber. Lucy let herself sob, before Miss Rayne had to dry her eyes and re-don her cold mask to comfort a group of devastated students. His best friends. A handful of second years, a first year in a second leo, a second year in a first leo, and a third who was, mysteriously, one of the most devastated.
End scene. AN: It's really…. Not the best thing I've written. It's the longest chapter I have so far; 1047 words to be precise. The next chapter has to be Zach for plot reasons, but after that the pure plot stuff will be over for a while and there will be a vote for chapter 4. Also, I am working on another series starring Ollie and Christian, so look out for that. :) Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated.