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Ravenwood Manor (Intro) |
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Becca (5)
Creative
 Created on 6-23-08
 Views(280)
 Story Rating G
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-Chapter Five-
I woke up at my usual time the next morning, only to find that I had not only fallen asleep on the floor but also in my clothes. I was one of those people that didn’t like to wear the same thing a few days in a row so I felt a little gross. It had to be at least ten o’clock when I began rummaging through my drawers to find some new clothing and drag them all to the bathroom.
A shower would be nice.—I thought to myself.
During the time when I was towel drying my hair and getting dressed, it was extremely quiet. It was almost too quiet. Of course no one was in here but me but I couldn’t help but wonder. They were all probably up anyway. I had always been the late sleeper of the family.
I opened the bathroom door only to be surprised to find Becca standing there, her foot tapping vigorously.
“Have you forgotten something?” She asked coldly and it was only then I noticed her platinum hair pulled back into a tight bun and her attire being a black leotard. Her black ballet shoes were gripped in her knuckles.
“Please, ballet doesn’t start this early… does it?”
“Well, not only is it Tuesday but it is midday.” So I had woken up later than usual.
“Oh so I have to drag your scrawny ass over to ballet. Fine, but I don’t have a car so we will have to walk or whatever.”
“You cursed again.” Becca sighed with an eye roll. “I will gladly accompany you so there will be no need to drag me over there and you do have a car. Dad got it last week, didn’t he tell you?”
“No, he just happened to leave out that little detail.” I replied sourly; I hated to be the last one to find out about things, especially when they concern me.
“Well… let’s go!” She said impatiently and I walked down the stairs and into the garage with her by my side. Since the only car left was a BMW M3 convertible I gladly thought it was mine. It was an obnoxious shade of red, but I didn’t mind.
“Damn, when did my father get so much money?” I asked aloud but Becca shoved past me and entered the passenger seat.
“I picked it out.” She said with pride as I was getting in the driver’s seat.
I opened the garage door and sped down the driveway which made Becca groan and mumble incoherent words. I could only hear bits of it but it sounded like it was in French.
“So where’s this ballet place?”
“The studio is on Fifth Avenue by a Starbucks.”
“And where is Fifth Avenue?”
Becca sighed but explained where it was and I drove there. I couldn’t help but drive there above the speed limit, I mean what could you expect with a car like this? I never was a big fan of cars, I preferred walking but I don’t know I really did like this one; probably because it could go fast and I liked to go fast.
At last, we arrived at our destination and Becca unbuckled and got out of the car with haste. I followed her into the studio only to find it a rather cold and spacious place. Mothers were sitting off to the side on comfortable chairs against a wall while girls in leotards roamed the floor. A large mirror was against a wall for the performers to see themselves, but I occasionally caught girls grooming themselves instead.
A petite but very tall woman stepped out onto the floor and the girls immediately lined up. She was an olive-toned statuesque woman who was probably of the Italian descent. She had voluptuous lips and light eyes that were framed by dark brows. Her dark hair was cropped but layers of the wavy darkness encircled her face and made me actually think of her as beautiful.
My hazel eyes trailed over the line of girls but finally settled on Becca. She seemed not only the most proper but also the smallest. Becca was also the only girl wearing black; the others were wearing mostly bright colors.
I watched them do their exercises and other things that made little sense to me because I knew nothing about ballet. From the looks of it, it seemed as though Becca was the best in her class. Although her limbs were scrawny she moved around the floor with grace and precision.
She was almost too perfect. I don’t believe that she made any mistakes, any at all. It almost scared me. Not only was she some sort of genius but an accurate genius. I know that there is no such thing as perfect but she sure came close to it.
Becca caught my eye once but was deeply engrossed in her session so it only lasted a brief second. Truthfully, she looked as if she belonged here, as if this were her place. I don’t think anything I ever did made me feel as alive as she was probably feeling (actually running always did for me but this seems much harder than prancing down some track).
I wasn’t sure how long it had been since the class started but it was suddenly over. The girls were skipping over to their mothers while Becca slowly made her way over to me. I don’t know how her relationship with Liza is but I think it is fairly good and she’s probably wishing her mother were here too instead of me.
“I am hungry.” She stated in a flat voice.
“And what would you like me to do about it?” I challenged with an arched brow.
“You could buy me lunch… and if you want I could pay you back later… I have a lot in my bank at the moment.”
I snorted. “You don’t have to pay me back, I will gladly buy you lunch.” After we were out of the building and back into the car I looked over at her while she buckled. “Where would you like to go?”
“There’s a nice Italian café by the bridge that makes good paninis it is called Mario’s.” Becca suggested and I nodded. Paninis sounded good at the moment.
“Sure, but where is the bridge?” I asked and Becca explained to me the direction.
It was a nice bridge. Very big, very firm, but it lacked something. I could not put my finger on what it might be but I knew it did, I could feel it. The paninis were good just like Becca had said they would be. This town wasn’t as bad as I had once thought it would be. In fact, I found it nice to be away from the hustling and bustling big cities.
“Why don’t you like my mom?” Becca asked abruptly after we had already eaten but were still sitting outside the nice café.
“What do you mean?” I decided to play stupid but I knew it wouldn’t work for long with this brainbox.
“Like last night you were mean to her, but you are nice to me. If you hate her because she replaced your mom then why don’t you hate me?”
“I never had a sister so you didn’t replace anyone.”
“Yeah, but I am your father’s daughter too, not biologically but you know what I mean, wouldn’t that make you think I replaced you?”
I stared at her for a long time. She was right; I had in fact thought that she replaced me in my father’s life but it seemed like ages since I had thought about that.
“Well, I did but I don’t know you are just different than I expected, I guess.” I wasn’t really sure how to put it because I didn’t even know why myself.
“So then why you do still hate my mom?” She demanded and I shrugged.
“I just do.”
“That’s a stupid reason.”
“Not every reason has to be smart.”
“She’s not that bad you know a little orderly and whatnot but she is still a good person. I don’t see why you don’t like her when you haven’t even given her a chance.”
“And who are you to tell me who I can and cannot like?” My voice had gone up an octave and my eyes were beginning to narrow. Becca stayed calm.
“I never said you had to like her, just that you shouldn’t judge someone before you get to know them. That is why I kept bugging you yesterday, so that I could find out what kind of a person you are.”
“And what kind would that be?” I asked slowly going back to my once calm self. I was intrigued to what this little person thought of me.
“Well, aside from the fact that you are temperamental I find you to be spontaneous, wild and fun. I am willing to bet that you had a lot of friends back where you came from.”
I was about to protest about the “temperamental” thing but I realized that it was true and shut my gob. “I guess, most of them were more of acquaintances but yes, I guess I did have a load of friends back in New York.”
“And what about me, what kind of person do you find me to be?” Becca asked and I could tell that she was also interested in what I thought.
“I think you are… cryptic, possibly a genius, and a perfectionist.”
“Interesting,” her voice was full of wonderment and a small smile was curled across her lips. “Just out of curiosity… what kind of person do you find my mother to be?”
I found myself practically glaring at Becca for bringing up her mother again. Why doesn’t she understand that I don’t like her? Why is it so bad it is a stupid reason, but I am entitled to my own opinion?
Honestly, I wasn’t sure how to answer her question because I really don’t know much about Liza. I guess I could call her a monster or a bitch but would it really be the truth?
“You don’t know do you? You see, that is the problem with being prejudice; you honestly have no clue.”
And I knew she was right; in fact I was beginning to think that Becca was always right.
(Author’s Note: I will not spoil the ending for anyone by telling you if I will or will not kill Becca—there was a bit of controversy over that the other day from my comment—all I will say that I hope you do like the ending. I do have a good one in mind though. Once again tell me what you think and thanks for checking out the fifth chapter!)
(By the way I am not sure about the type of story it is anymore so I will just mark it as creative until I can figure it out.)
Comments
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Now I gotta babysit. Kmp
and your story.
But, I think this is going to be
MUCH better then that
But, you can't kill Becca.
lol. Please KMP
It was amazing like usual!!!