Lacey Bentley took of her ballet slippers and put them away in her bag. It had been a long day and so far she wasn’t sure that it was even going to work out the way she wanted. She had been to so many auditions, making it right down to the last couple of dances, but she never got the part.
It was starting to become a pattern.
A pattern she didn’t want to keep repeating but didn’t know how to stop it. She danced her heart out every single time, just like she had been since she took her first dance class when she was three, but it didn’t seem to make a difference.
“You ready to go?” her best friend and fellow dancer Callie asked.
“Yep,” she replied, and tried to paste on a smile, she didn’t want to let her friend know that she was feeling depressed, she’d been at this ballet thing for two years now and she was getting close to the end of her rope. Maybe it was just time to give up on her dream, find a new one. A more achievable one.
“Why are you so pouty today?” Callie asked as they took the stairs from the studio down to the street.
“I’m not pouty.”
“Oh yes you are, whats wrong?”
“Nothing, I am not being pouty,” Lacey insisted, as they walked through the foyer and stepped out into the cold afternoon. It was the middle of winter and even though it was only four o’clock it was already starting to get dark.
“Lace, you know you can tell me anything. What are you upset about?”
“Nothing!” she exclaimed. “And I’m done with this conversation.” With that she turned and flounced off down the street. She didn’t get more than two steps before the sound of gunfire filled the air.
Lacey spun around just in time to see Callie drop, blood blossoming on her chest.
She stood there in shock.