I sit alone at the counter staring down at the newspaper while I stir my coffee. Really there is not point to me stirring it, it's just black nothing to mix but as I read the article on the front page I have to do something to get out the anxiety I have.

It's not even 8 and I've already had two cups. I've been sitting at the counter in this run down diner for almost two hours, and I've read the same article twice. I want to turn the page but the headline just makes me read it again.

Women Found Dead. Police Suspect no Foul Play.

It's a simple head line but the picture that follows confuses me. It's a shot of a house just down the road, surrounded by police tape and cops on the street. If you look at the picture long enough, like I have you can see that the windows are shattered and the front door is kicked in. But what draws my eye is the line of red around the door frame and each broken window frame. I can tell it's blood by the colour and the way it drips. How can there be so much blood if there was is no foul play?

I continue to read the article for the third time, by now I know the details by heart but my interest and confusion force me to read it again. I knew the women that was killed. Mrs. Victoria Hardmen, bitch of the town. I know it isn't right to talk about the dead but everyone in our small town hated Mrs. Hardmen and she hated us. It wasn't so much as what she did that made us hate her it was more who she was. She was a hardcore catholic, she was against just about everything, and she always had something to say. She used to walk around town spraying people with holy water, and damning the youths to hell.

I knew by the way the end of the article was phrased the local police had no idea who killed her. She was found in the bathroom, bled out and sitting in the tub. I always got a very graphic picture when I read over that sentence. I covered my mouth to stop the no so surprised gasp that escaped again.

"You want anything else sweetheart?" A voice called my attention away from the article. I looked up at smiled kindly at the waitress. I shook my head and she just looked at me. "Hon you've been sitting there for a while, I think you've read the same article like five times." She laughed.

"Three times actually." I corrected her and she shook her head, filled my coffee cup, and walked away.

I took a sip and went back to the article. I sighed as I stared at the picture. Something was just very off about the whole situation. The diner was getting quiet and I had to get to work soon. Living in a small town has it's advantages but the job selection was defiantly a disadvantage. Being young and just out of college I didn't have the best jobs to choose from, so columnist at the local newspaper and ballet teacher was what I had to make money. They weren't bad jobs and I had studied english in college and danced for most of my life so it's not like I was horrible at my job, I was just tired. Nothing ever happens in this town and it was getting dull. The death of Mrs. Hardmen is probably the biggest thing to happen to our town in a while.

The sound of the bell over the front door made me look up again. Two men walked in that I had never see before. Again in a small town, everyone knows everyone but these two were not from around here. One taller than the other but was clearly the youngest. He just had that younger look to him and the shaggy hair gave him away. The other wore a leather jacket and his hair was styled just right, like he had played with it for an hour before leaving the bathroom. Both reasonably good-looking but it was like they were out-of-place. They looked at everyone in the diner suspiciously and before they looked my way I looked down at the paper.

"Be with you two in a sec..." Molly, the younger waitress called as she walked over to me. She was on the other side of the counter and stopped in front of me. Molly and I had grown up together so I knew her pretty well, like the sister I didn't have. "Well?" She asked tapping the counter with her fingers.

I looked up at her and she looked impatient. "Well what?" I asked with a laugh taking a drink of coffee.

"How did last night go silly!?" She laughed waving her notepad at me.

"It went fine." I looked down quickly.

"You suck... you know that." She huffed at me and I looked up. "You go out with a hottie and don't even tell me the details! What kind of friend are you." She said loudly.

"Will you keep your voice down." I said shaking my head at her. I looked around and noticed some people staring. I looked back at her and huffed at her appearance. "What the hell are you wearing?" I asked with a laugh as she did a little twirl.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" She giggled.

"Those shorts are about five inches to short and I'm pretty sure you didn't by them like that." I shook my head at her. "And that shirt is incredibly see through." I whispered.

"I know." She winked leaning in. "I'm hunting." She winked as she looked over to our left. "See those two..." She said gesturing to the two men who had just walked in. They sat a little ways down the counter. The younger one was reading the newspaper and the older one was talking. "Finest specimens to ever walk our streets." She whispered.

I shook my head at her. "Well good luck." I smiled and she quickly walked over to them.

"Alright what can I get for you two handsome boys." Molly said in a sweet voice. I rolled my eyes at her and heard one of the men chuckle.

I went back to my reading and it was quiet for a minute until I heard Molly giggling like a school girl. I looked up and she was walking over to me, her cheeks as red as a tomato. "Oh my..." She sighed out as she leaned on the counter just off to the side. She kept her back to the two men and I noticed the older one looking her up and down. He and I locked eyes for a second and he winked.

"Don't tell me... you're in love?" I laughed at her as I looked away from the two men.

"Shut up." She giggled as she disappeared into the back. I shook my head as I watched her head into the kitchen.

"Dean we are kinda in the middle of something." I heard an angry whisper from my left. I couldn't help but looked over at the two men. The younger on looked very annoyed.

"You know what your problem is Sammy...?" The older one tapped the other's shoulder. "You don't know how to have fun... you see that?" He said pointing to where Molly had walked off. "That's fun." He smiled brightly and I rolled my eyes. "We've been on the road for to long, so gez enjoy yourself little brother." He said and I looked down quickly before they noticed I was listening. Apparently our town was being visited by two travelling brothers.

Molly walked out from the back and had two cups and a pot of coffee in her hand. I watched as she tried her best to balance everything. Molly was known for dropping coffee pots. She placed the cups down in front of the two brothers and started talking to them again.

"What do you even do for fun around here?" The older one asked her.

I heard Molly giggle. "Well that depends on how much trouble you wanna get into." She teased. "But I think I know what we can do..." She sighed and I could almost anticipate what she was gonna say next. "Oh Ginger..." Molly called out and I sighed as I looked up. I knew she was going to do that. I hated that nickname.

"Molly I swear you call me that again..." I warned looking up at her and instead of just her looking at me I noticed the brothers had turned their heads to looked at me. I sighed deeply and flashed them both a kind smile.

"What are you doing tonight?" She asked looking at me like I better agree with her.

"You know what I'm doing tonight." I said with a huff as I stood grabbing my paper.

"Good so you're not busy." She jumped with a smile. "Me and my girl Ginger will show you boys a good time."

"Molly." I said quickly and she looked at me with a pout. "I'm sure you two will have enough fun with her." I smiled throwing some money on the counter for my coffee. "Just be careful she has a knack for getting into trouble." I smiled their way before I turned to leave.

"Wait!" Molly's little cry called me before I could even head for the door. She ran around the counter and over to my side. "You spend all your free time in that studio... now last night was the first time in a long time I got you to go out..." She whispered. "Now please... we could have fun." She smiled.

"I'm sorry Molly I'm busy." I sighed. "I'm sure you'll have more fun without me." I winked and she sighed deeply.

"Alright..." She trailed off. "You headed to the paper or the studio now?" She asked.

"Paper, gotta hand in my column for this week, Class at 11 then lunch with my dad." I sighed.

"Ou good luck with that." Molly said with a smile.

"Thanks... I'll call you later." I smiled. Molly sighed as I turned and headed for the door. I didn't bother introducing myself to the brothers because I was sure I'd never see them again. I could tell just by how they acted they never stayed in one town long so why bother making friends.

The sun was hot when I walked out the diner. Mid summer anywhere in Texas was hot but for some reason Willow Creek always got the worst of it. The power lines buzzed and the pavement sizzled as I made my way down to the Newspaper. One of the biggest buildings in our town was the Newspaper. Everyone read it and half the town worked there. I sighed in relief as soon as I stepped inside and felt the cold air conditioning. I took a deep breath and headed to the editor's office.

Peter Mcfler, another person in the town everyone had problems with. He was a grumpy old man who also had a problem with everyone. He had a need to spread lies in the newspaper about the townspeople. He always managed to twist a story unless it was front page. The front page he had no control over. The managing editor did the front page layout and it was the only part of the newspaper people actually believed.

I always hated going into Peter's office. He always ended up yelling at me for some stupid reason and when I yelled back he started with the insults. When that didn't work he resorted to hitting on me. Sure it was creepy at first but now I know if I bring up his wife he shuts up. I took a deep breath before knocking on his door.

"Yeah come in!" He called out his voice booming as ever. I walked in quickly and handed him what I had. "What's this?" he asked after he looked at the first sentence.

"It's the column on the church you wanted." I answered quickly.

"No I wanted a story... not a damn history piece." He said throwing the pages back at me.

"It's not a history piece." I said putting the pages back on his desk.

"Willow Creek's Catholic church was built in... blah blah... history." Peter said reading half the sentence.

"That's only first sentence." I laughed. "If you actually read more than that you would like it." I shook my head.

"And why would I like it? I never like what you write." He huffed throwing my work into a pile.

"And yet you always print it." I laughed. "This one has dead people." I said quickly and Peter looked up and grabbed the paper from the pile. "That's what I thought." I laughed. "Well you read that, I got a class in like an hour." I said heading for the door.

"Hold up just one minute twinkle toes." He said and I sighed. Peter could never make it one meeting without calling me that. "Just because you threw some dead bastard a line in a column doesn't make it good enough." He laughed.

"Yes it does." I nodded to him and he stood quickly. He walked slow because his weight would only allow him to go so far.

"Well miss smarty pants before you take off I gotta tell you something." He sighed and I turned to face him. His voice had dropped and he never told me he had to say something, he usually just said it.

"Alright." I said looking over to him and crossing my arms.

"I have been informed that I have to start making cuts." he said. "I was told to start with the useless and eliminate it." He laughed.

"Well no one reads the kitchen column so I'm sure it will be no surprise when you cut it." I laughed.

"I'm starting with you." he said loudly and looked at me.

"Me?" I asked a bit confused. "People actually read my work..." I said.

"No they don't." He laughed. "The only people who read past the second page is your father and maybe the old folk down the way." He laughed again. "You just don't have that... thing." He said. "What makes good writers good is they all got a thing... you just don't got that." He shrugged.

"You're joking right?" I said.

"Face it sweetheart... you just aren't cut out for the journalism world." He laughed. Now he was being himself. "Girl like you should stay where you are..."

"Stay were I am?" I asked angrily.

"In that studio, teachin' lil' ones to dance... I mean it's not meaningful but someone's gotta do it." He laughed and walked back around his desk.

"You're a dick." I shook my head at him.

"Bye." He winked at me and threw my piece on the church back at me. I huffed and slammed the door on my way out. He could be such a heartless dick. I bet if he died too no one would really care.

I stormed over to the studio and while no one was around I let my anger out. I walked into my dressing room and threw a few of the random things I had around the room. I was out of breath after I threw my chair at the wall. I looked over at my mirror and sighed when I noticed the tear running down my face. I quickly brushed it away and sat down. I kicked on my flats and started to change. Off came the jeans and sweater and on came the white tights, black spandex shorts, sports bra and tank top. Last were my ballet slippers. I usually wore the ones without the wood box at the toes. I've been dancing since I was able to walk so if I needed to turn on my toes I could do it without the wood balancing and crushing my feet.

I made my way down to my studio and a smile came to my face when I got there. I turned the lights on and being fired was suddenly pushed to the back of my mind. Something about the grey tiles, the black balance bars, and the mirrors from wall to wall made me forget all my troubles just for the time being.

As 11 slowly approached my students started to come in. 11 to 12 were my older students, around 15 to 17, more advanced. But 12:30 to 1:30 was my favourite class to teach. Little kids no younger than 5 and no older than 7. The little girl's always had their hair pulled into a tight bun, pick one piece and a small tutu. The three little boys, who didn't really listen all that well, wore black pants. They were all so cute and easy to get along with that I never dreaded teaching. The older ones liked to talk back and they always had to prove they were better than each other but the little one didn't care. They were just happy to do whatever I asked.

I stretched before my first class began and I went over some of the newer moves they were supposed to practice. I always found that the older boys actually went home and worked on what I asked them to do, rather than complain about it like some of the 16-year-old girls. They were a bit more talkative and catty at times. I ignored most of them and made sure they just listened to me and did as I asked. Parents watched from the two-way glass outside the studio. Those dance moms could get pretty intense sometimes so I didn't leave the studio after that class was over.

A half hour between class I had a change to work on my own routine. No one was usually around and I could try things out. Every night I could come back here when everyone was gone and work. I was practicing and planning to fulfil my actual goal and dream. I wanted to dance on broadway, or at the Met in New York. I wanted to be part of a show hundreds of people from all around the world to see. It was a silly dream I've had since I was a kid and for some reason it was the one thing I never gave up on. The only reason I stayed in Willow Creek was to save up enough money to go to a fancy art school and be better at what I loved but I was still a few thousand dollars from that ever happening.

The little one started to pile into the studio with their big smiles and quickly feet and I smiled at all of them. They all got into their lines and waited for me to say something. They all stretched with me and as we were warming up I noticed a few of them struggling. I helped them out and they smiled brightly at me. Even if I never made it to New York I think I would be okay with teaching little kids ballet.

"Alright does everyone remember what we started last week?" I asked with a smile.

"Yes!" They all answered with a giggle.

"Well how about we keep working on that?" I asked and they all nodded quickly.

Every year the town puts on its own little ballet show. It showcases all the students and each class is responsible for a routine and the teachers are as well. I was lucky this year to get to work with the younger class on their routine. I played the music and they started from the beginning.

They could only remember so much so I kept notes and showed them more every so often. I was in the middle of showing them their next few steps when I noticed my studio door open. I didn't looked over but out of the corner of my eyes I knew they weren't students.

"If you are older than 7, you don't belong here." I called out. "And Plié..." I instructed the class and they all bent their legs.

"Sorry to interrupt but we were just looking for a Beth Mcallister." The man's voice made me roll my eyes.

"A little busy at the moment." I didn't look over. "Kick..." I instructed then class but they just stared off to the side. I could see them all in the mirror staring at the door. I turned to looked at them and they all looked scared and confused.

"It will only take a minute." The man spoke from the door. I looked over and the first thing I saw were the badges. The suits also gave them away.

"FBI?" I questioned as I slowly looked up at the two men in my studio door way. I sighed when I recognized them from the diner. The boys Molly was talking to. They didn't even look like FBI before. "Seriously?" I asked with a huff crossing my arms.

"Wait... You're the girl from the diner." The older one said. "I thought your name was Ginger?" He questioned.

"Dean." The younger one scolded.

I heard the girls behind me giggle. "No silly... that's just a nick name." One of the kids laughed.

"Everyone get into your lines." I called to the class and they did so quickly. I still looked at the two men in front of me as I spoke. "Arms and feet in fifth." I said and they all put their arms up. "Hold." I called out as I walked over to the two men. "Can this wait?" I asked looking between them.

"It will only take a minute of your time..." The younger one said.

"What's this about?" I asked. "Ashley just cause my back is turned doesn't mean I can't see you." I said turning quickly. I smiled when Ashley jumped and put her arms back up. She smiled and I turned back about. They both stared at me for a second. "What do you want?" I asked with a sigh.

"We just have a few questions about Victoria Hardmen." The young one said with a polite smile.

"Plié..." I called out to the class. "Hold." I said turning my back on the agents. "Relevé..." I said and they all rose up. "Alright I'm gonna let you go home early so I can talk to these two men... make sure you practice what I showed you today." I smiled at everyone.

"Thank you Miss Beth..." They all smiled as they bowed.

I smiled as they all went running out of the room. "What are you're names again?" I asked.

"I'm Dean and this is Sam." Dean nodded.

"And how is it that two brothers end up as each other's partners?" I asked crossing my arms.

"How did you know we were-"

"I over heard you two talking in the diner earlier." I cut Dean off. "What do you wanna know about Mrs Hardmen?" I asked with a sigh rolling my eyes, I just wanting them to leave.

"Um... Did she have any enemies?" Sam asked as they both put their badges back in their pockets.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Um yeah the whole town hated her." I shrugged.

"The whole town?" Dean questioned. "Why?" He asked.

"Well we don't really like being sprayed with holy water and being damned to hell." I laughed and they both exchanged a look. "She was really religious and hated everyone who didn't live by the bible like her." I shrugged.

"Was there anyone recently she was having trouble with?" Sam asked.

"No one in particular... she didn't like the younger population though." I shrugged. "Just last week she was yelling at some kid for riding past her house on his skateboard to fast." I laughed. "Few days ago she was yelling at me and Molly actually." I laughed.

"May we ask why?" Dean asked.

"Well you've met Molly." I said. "Her wardrobe deeply offended Mrs. Hardmen." I shrugged and they both smiled.

"And you?" Dean asked. "You said she yelled at you?"

"Oh well that was just a daily thing. She never liked me to begin with." I laughed. I sighed once they were quiet. "Anything else I can help you two with?" I asked with a sigh.

"Yes actually, you wouldn't happen to know where we could find the Mayor... Molly said it'd best to ask you." Sam said.

"Why do you want to talk to the Mayor?" I asked quickly.

"Just a few routine questions..." Dean said.

"Well I suggest you change." I said looking them up and down. "Folks around here, especially the mayor hate suits..." I smirked.

"That why you're the first person to talk to us all day?" Dean asked with a sigh.

"Everyone else turned their backs on you huh?" I asked a small laugh. They both nodded. "Well go change and meet me back here in half hour." I said heading for the door. I walked past them and saw the confusion on their faces. "You wanna talk to the Mayor, you need an appointment, and those are very rare to get... he is a very busy man." I rolled my eyes. I walked out of the studio and headed for my dressing room. I knew they followed be by the whispers coming from behind me. I stopped quickly and turned.

"Well if he is as busy as you say how did you get an appointment?" Dean asked in a snarky tone and I watched Sam roll his eyes at his brother.

"What a daughter can't have lunch with her father now a days?" I asked crossing my arms and staring back at Dean. His smug look dropped quickly and I smiled.

"Anytime you can get us would be very much appreciated." Sam said quickly pushing his brother away. I nodded to him and watched as Dean looked back at me and his brother pushed him out the door. "Dude could you be a little more focused." Sam tried to whisper as they left.

I rolled my eyes as walked into my dressing rooms. I quickly changed and tried to fix my hair. I couldn't show up to lunch looking like I did. My father was all about appearances so I had to look like the mayor's daughter. I always kept most of my wardrobe in my dressing room, I spent most of my day at the studio so it was just easier.

I plugged in my straighter and threw on some make up. Mascara, eye liner and lipstick, dark blue skinny jeans, a blazer, and some low heels, and I was just about set. I straightened my messy and bumpy hair and pinned half of it up. I could hear some of the music from the other studios and I couldn't help but sway with the melody. I sighed at my appearance. I loved my father but the face he made me put up while we were together was hard work and just not me. I turned to take a step and almost tripped over my own foot. I never really got used to walking in heels but it was necessary apparently.

I locked my dressing room once I left and headed for the door. I sighed when I saw the two men walking back my way. They looked like they were arguing and the youngest, Sam was obviously more irritated.

"Alright here's the deal." I said stepping in front of them.

"Wooh." Dean stepped back, neither of them saw me.

"You work for the paper in the next town over, North Berry times." I sighed. "You are doing an article on the generation in both our towns." I said and they stared at me. "Anything I say just agree." I nodded. "Don't interrupt when my father speaks and only ask easy questions." I said as I pushed past them and started walking ahead of them.

"I take it Mayor Mcallister doesn't like talking to reporters?" I heard Dean asked.

"Not as much as he hates talking to suits... he likes to think he is the most powerful in our town and it's just a lot easier to go along with him." I sighed looking over my shoulder.

"That why you're dressed like that?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"Dean seriously." Sam scolded again.

"The Mayor's daughter has to look the part, you can't always be running around town in your tights." My voice dropped as I quoted my father with a small smile. I looked back at them and they just nodded. "By the way, do you have any leads?" I asked.

"Leads?" Sam asked.

"On who killed Mrs. Hardmen?" I asked.

"Our investigation is still on going..." Sam nodded and cleared his throat.

"So no?" I asked and they didn't say anything. It was quiet for a bit as we walked down the quiet street.

"You live here your whole life?" Dean finally spoke up.

"Pretty much." I answered quickly.

"You notice anything... kinda strange or out of the ordinary the last few days?" He asked.

"Other then someone killing Mrs. Hardmen? Not really." I shrugged.

"Cold spots?" Sam asked and I looked over at him.

"Cold spots?" I ask questioned and he nodded. "It's mid summer, there is no such thing as cold." I laughed. It was quiet again as we reached the restaurant. I could see my father sitting at his table just looking at his watch as he spoke on the phone. I sighed deeply and straightened my back. "Like i said just go along with what I say, and keep the questions short." I said looking back at the brothers. They nodded.

I walked into the restaurant and when my father saw me he shook his head and hung up his phone. I walked over quickly with Sam and Dean following me. "You're late." My father stood and looked down at me.

"I know, Sorry." I nodded with a small smile.

"Who are they?" He asked quickly.

"Um this is Sam and Dean. They are from North Berry." I smiled as they all shook hands. "They work for the paper and want to write a piece on our generations." I smiled.

"And you brought them here why?" He asked.

"We just had a few questions if you don't mind." Sam smiled kindly.

"You work at the paper?" He asked looking at the two brothers suspiciously. "I answer your questions you put in a good word with your editor about Beth."

"Um.. why would they do that?" I asked.

"I spoke with Peter today." My father looked over at me. "He said you quit."

I couldn't help but laugh. "That what he told you?" I shook my head.

"Excuse us just for a second." My father nodded to Sam and Dean. He turned to me and took my arm and walked off to the side. "Now Beth, you know your ballet career will only take you so far." He sighed.

"Can we not do this now." I asked shaking my head.

"When are you going to grow up?" My father exhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes. "You can't keep living off a dream you are never going to achieve." he said rather loudly.

I took a deep breath as I balled my fists by my side. "You know what, why don't you worry about yourself. I happen to be a grown up and can do whatever I choose." I said trying to walk away. My father reached out and grabbed my arm.

"I will not have you acting out in public. Why don't you calm down and talk to me like a normal, respectful human being." he said.

"Acting out?" I asked loudly calling some attention. "I'll calm down when you start treating me like an adult and not some rebellious teenager." I shook my head. "Truth is, I hated working at the paper so I was more than relieved when Peter fired me." I said and my father stepped back a bit in shock. "Yeah that's right. Peter called me out told me I didn't have want it takes to me a serious journalist. Said I didn't have the thing that made others great." I rolled my eyes. "So next time you accuse me of being irresponsible why don't you get your facts right." I shook my head. "And just for your information not everyone can grow up and be a condescending bureaucrat like you dad." I huffed at him and stormed away from him.

"Beth." My father called for me as I headed for the door. People had stopped eating and were watching me as I stormed away. I'm sure they heard everything I said but I didn't care.

I passed Sam and Dean as they stared at me in shock. "He's all yours." I said as I pushed between them and hit the door open quickly. The door swung and crashed against the building. I huffed as I stormed away.

My father and I never really saw eye to eye on my life choices and our conversations always ended the same way. Loud, angry, and usually in front of a lot of people. Most people in the town blamed me for always over reacting and being to emotional because no one ever questioned the Mayor.

The sky was getting darker as I headed back to the studio. I only had one way of getting all my anger out and the rain that was sure to start falling would hopefully calm my nerves and anger. Classes still went on during the day and I watched as young kids and teenagers worked so hard to stick a landing or try not to fall as they spin numerous times. Though many would stumble, they always managed to get back up which made me smile.

The rain was tapping on the windows as I made my way up to the highest studio. The building had 6 studios to work with. 4 small ones on the main level for the beginner classes, one large one on the second floor and a medium-sized studio on the top floor, usually set aside for private lessons and work. I smiled as I headed up the stairs. I had already changed out of my street clothes and back into my shorts and skin-tight tank. I left the tights behind because I knew if I fell my worry would be on the injury not my anger.

I plugged the speakers in and turned the volume up. I walked around the room slowly and sat in the middle as the slow song eased my mind. When I worked on my own routine I always had to just sit and relax before I could do anything.

One deep breath in and one deep breath out as the music slowly lowered my heart rate. A smile came to my face as I started to stretch again. Holding each spilt for a long time always got my mind to settle. Once I was calm I started off with a few simple moves and suddenly took off and just did what now came natural as the music shifted and began to rise.

I danced for about two hours before I decided to take a break and eat something. I headed back to my dressing room and found something light to eat on. Then my phone started to ring. It was my father and I decided not to answer it. I added white tights under my smaller spandex shorts and knee-high grey socks that pulled over the heel of my Pointe shoes, the ones with the small box at the toe to help me stay up longer. I kept the skin-tight tank top on and headed back up to the highest studio.

It was getting late and the rain hadn't stopped. I carried my notebook and three CD's of music up with me. I had to finish planning out the younger class's routine before the end of this week, then I had to work on my own. I sat in the middle of the room writing simple moves the kids could learn and after a few hours of quiet and soft melody I lay in the middle of the room with my eyes closed just listening to the music. As a dancer I have always believe the music is supposed to move you. When the tempo rises so should your energy and when it lowers and softens so should your turns or lifts.

I took a deep breath before I got up and placed my note-book to the side and changed the song so I could get to work on my own routines. I had at least twelve stuck in my head that I always tried to mash together. I just hadn't found a good enough transition yet. But the anger inside that was starting to resurface game me an idea. I had decided to use that anger to my advantage.