A/N- okay! So this is my second story and I hope it's A LOT better than Behind Enemy Lines, for one because I spent soooo much time on this and also because you're supposed to get better over time. I just want to give you a brief heads up that the characters will be IC with the exception of Rachel, because I just had to make her this way(even though I like her in the books). Okay, some of this is also very descriptive of her dancing and just as you start to read there are a couple of paragraphs detailing her dance, and a couple near the end of the story. Links to everything from the picture of her backpack to a video of the dance routine I described will be posted on my profile! This is also kind of a fluffy story, because, I mean who doesn't love some goof fluff now and then? I really hope you enjoy it and keep reading and REVIEWING! :)
Annabeth's Point of View
"To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. This is power, it is glory on earth and it is yours for the taking."
Mine…Mine for the taking, I thought to myself as I pushed myself past my comfort zone and lifted my right leg straight into the air and let it fall effortlessly below me. I then mimicked this with my left leg, then my right again, my arms flowing in unison with my legs. My arms then came together as if grasping some invisible thing below me. I then lifted my hands gracefully above my head as my feet met, en pointe, beneath me, leaving me a statuesque picture of perfection.
My feet moved in and out of each other quickly as my body followed in perfect harmony, arms flowing above and around my body, my feet carried me to the right as my arms spread away from me. My body was suddenly balanced on one pointed foot. I spun, quickly teetering from one foot to the other repeating my "balancing act" to the left, my back arched with utter elegance. I maintained myself, standing upwards, back and arms arched when I let my heels touch the floor.
I lifted my leg to mid-body and then pushed it out again, letting gravity push it back to the floor, over my other leg, my arms mimicking my actions. I repeated my actions on the other side, twice before I forced myself back up onto the points of my toes and danced upon them, my arms were elongated to length of more than half of my body. As I made a short leap to the left as my upper half contorted in a wondrous way. I felt my whole body lean to the left when I caught myself on my right leg, crossing my left over it turning not even sixty degrees, I leant forward and my leg came up from the back, as though I was a seesaw. My arms were spread out like the wings of a white swan, the white swan that I now imagined myself portraying.
They came back up above me again as I stepped out towards the other swans in the lake, smiled, as my leg lifted at a perfect ninety degree angle behind me, I gently put it down again as I turned from the swans and to another group of swans on the other side of the stage, repeating the move. I, however, pleasured this side with an extra dance. I balanced upon the points of my toes, my arms dancing freely above my head, when suddenly I felt a burst of energy. I pushed myself off of the ground, my legs spreading for only a second above the ground before coming together again perfectly, as my arms raised mid-air and I prepared myself for another slight jump. Only this time I leaped, brilliantly, off of the ground and into the air, legs and arms extended, being the swan.
I landed, my arms bending in grace, my legs scurried ahead of my body as I struggled to catch up, yet this appeared effortless. My face went forward clad in a proud smile, my arms firmly pointed back and my legs en pointe at an uncomfortable, but graceful tilt. I let my arms come up as though I was flying, my legs crossing under me as my hands came out to perfect little points like feathers as I looked down at my pointed, pink fabric covered foot. When instantly this peaceful scene became a burst of strength as I extended my leg, now more than halfway across the stage, my legs bursting in and out of the air in proportionally larger increments of length, I was the perfect combination of beauty and strength, my legs spread as far as they could go while fully in the air, my graceful wing like arms extended above my head.
I hurriedly teetered over to the other side of the stage jumping at what sounded like the climax of the music. Then I began to dance gracefully back to midstage, spinning both with ease and while using my points as constant propellers. My arms were now in an almost crippled position, moving in and out of being fully extended and tiny, bent symbols of what could be interpreted as weakness. I danced, beautifully, making celestial movements when finally, I stood, balanced on the point of one leg the other was gracefully yet firmly hanging adjacent to me in mid air. Both of my arms were carelessly thrown above my head, my heads and fingers loosely spread as though I was reaching for some invisible essence above and beyond myself.
I stood in this position for mere seconds and yet it felt like hours, beautiful hours. I let my arms fall to my side before letting my leg meet the hard wood floor below me , relieving a certain pain, though I was still en pointe. I could practically see myself in the strapless, feather embroidered garment. A giant white tutu extended from under those feathers. On the clear feather shaped cutouts, above which were thin clear straps that held up the dress, were tiny Swarovski crystals that sparkled almost as much as I did when I danced. On my head was a white, crown like hat, decorated with white flowers and sparkling white pearls.
I looked behind me and I saw a interpretation of a starry night, blue and green with tiny silver sparkles that signified stars as well as giant rocks covered in a brilliant green moss. A deep blue light shone upon the floor, it was the lake and I was the swan. I was surrounded by other swans who watched me dance Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. THIS was every ballerina's dream. I let myself out of the blackness when my eyes fluttered open and I was greeted by my harsh reality, where I looked down and I saw converse instead of Gaynor's, and I was dressed in a gym uniform rather than a frilly pink tutu.
"Why can't you just be normal?" a lanky, freckled, redhead asked me with a sarcastic and slicing look on her face. Rachel just waited, expecting an answer when I was finally met with the sweet release of the bell. She rolled her eyes and walked into the dressing room as the other girls followed.
Normal. It was almost undefineable, but I know it's something I never want to be. "Normal" was almost an insult in my book. I know nothing about normal, but I do know it isn't waking up at four in the morning to fit in three hours of ballet practice before school starts. It isn't giving up almost everything any other teenager has on a daily basis for a dream that may never come true. It isn't crashing at midnight every night after dance practice in bright pink tights and a sweaty, skin hugging black leaotard, then waking up at four to do it all over again. Come to think of it, my life is anything but normal, but I NEVER want to be normal, I want to be better.
I have to be better, ballet is my life and I can't let all of that time be a waste. All of the time, I could have been spending with friends, with a boyfriend, going to movies, listening to music that wasn't either classical or a broad way show tune. I know it's wrong of me to think about all of that, when I have so much and I wouldn't trade all of my training for any of that, but when my dreams weren't populated by me dancing the white swan at the New York Ballet Theatre, they were of what others would call "the normal things."
I walked into AP world history where I was greeted by Rachel's glances, as usual the popular kids sat at the center of the classroom, next to Rachel was Thalia whose gorgeous freckled facade hid her actually nice personality. Adjacent to Thalia were Bianca and her brother Nico, both with long-ish black hair and perfect blue eyes, as well as Grover and Silena who actually weren't that bad. And then there was Perseus Jackson, who sat almost under Rachel, her arm around his pale neck running her fingers through his deep brown hair. They were surrounded by other students whom I didn't know the names of, but they wouldn't be sitting with them if they weren't in their "group."
"You get enough practice in P.E. there Chase?" Rachel asked with a biting tone, while most of the girls I didn't know laughed. "Nope, not quite. "I said, plastering a fake smile onto my face. Then, suddenly, it happened, my grey eyes met with the beautiful blue-green eyes of Percy Jackson. He looked into me and smiled as Rachel pressed her plump nude lips to his cheek. He averted his smile from me and turned to Rachel. And then, as usual, life sped up again, going even faster just trying to catch up, and it ended up smacking me in the face in the process.
The late bell broke the awkwardly long stare, I sat down (at the front of the classroom as usual) as miscellaneous students began filing into the classroom. I pulled out a black and white floral notebook and brushed my fingers through my long blonde hair when Mr. Berkley entered placing a bottle of water on the corner of his desk and picking up a piece of untouched white chalk. "Today, class, we will be discussing 1900-1910," He began as he wrote he dates on the board. "Can anyone tell me anything crucial that happened during this time period?" My hand immediately shot up.
"Anna Pavlova, famous for her rendition of the dying swan," I began as a chorus of groans erupted from behind me, mostly Rachels. "was made Coryphée in 1902, premiere danseuse in 1905, and finally a prima ballerina in 1906." I finished with a tone hat indicated knowledge rather than excitement.
"Interesting…" Mr. Berkley interrupted. "However, I meant things that greatly affected the world a s a whole." He finished, his chalk meeting the board once gain and writing the words "Anna" and "Pavlova" After a while, I sort of zoned out, writing mock schedules for the next couple of weeks in my notebook, I was a whole month in when the lunch bell rang. I snapped out of my chair, undoing the white buckle on my pinstriped backpack in one fluid motion, and shoved my notebook in. I was walking out of the classroom when it happened again. Though the room was anything but silent, I heard the noise of a tiny pink pen hitting the floor…MY tiny pink pen. I turned, about to go get it when I saw a tall, athletically built brunette boy, with beautiful sea green eyes, bending down, his.. Percy's hand holding my pen.
His eyes looked from the pen up into my grey eyes, my tiny pink lips fell apart as he snapped back up and began walking towards me. My already big grey eyes opened widely as I turned away from him quickly, hurrying out of the door and into the mess of students in the hallway, surprising even myself. I'm strong, outspoken, and I don't run away from my problems, so why was it that I had just ran away from one Percy Jackson?
Percy's Point Of View
Rachel's hand cutely crept over to mine, she laced her tiny, freckled fingers into my larger more masculine ones. I turned to her and smiled, but she barely turned away from the unimportant conversation she was holding with one of our friends she barely knew. I licked my lips, a tiny bit frustrated when my other hand reached for the petite pink pen in my pocket, grazing it softly where "The School of American Ballet" was engraved on it, when my silent inner thoughts were interrupted by Rachel's overbearing laugh.
"And she was like—Anna Pavlova, famous for her murdered duck impression was named the best dancer for whatever in the nineteen sixties." Rachel continued laughing at her very far off Annabeth impression. "You don't know how hard it was to not laugh. It was like hilarious!" She finished, with a giant smile spread wide across her face, barely holding in a joyfully tearful laugh. Suddenly, me and every other person in the cafeteria (I'm pretty sure) heard the slam of a chair into one of the cheaply made cafeteria tables.
Annabeth, hurt yet seeking revenge, looked over at Rachel from across the room. Her glowing grey eyes made contact intensely and instantly. She gracefully pushed her way through the crowded cafeteria, ignoring the silent stares form everyone (including me). She came to where Rachel and I sat. Rachel grabbed my hand and placed it on the table so she could stand and keep her hand interlocked with mine.
"Okay, look Rachel, if you have something to say to me, you could say it to my face..atleast then I could have some respect for you." Annabeth spoke from a stiffened face, not intending to make a big deal , just wanting to make things clear. Rachel looked at her, as though expecting better. "Okay, " Rachel started, fully intent on digging in her claws. "You're annoying, you dress badly, you have NO life, and this ballet crap? It's really getting on my nerves." Rachel smirked evilly and tilted her head, causing he long red mane to thrash to the other side of her head. Annabeth looked taken aback when finally Rachel broke the silence. "What?" she asked smiling mischievously.
Annabeth huffed outbefore starting looking off into another section of the cafeteria regretting already what she hadn't even begun to do. "Oh nothing," Annabeth started, crap…here we go. "I'm just really surprised you're able to formulate full sentences other than 'Oh my! It's time to reapply, my lip gloss has worn off!'" Annabeth mimicked in a way that didn't match Rachel at all, but what the hell? It was funny.
Annabeth, then turned away and walked out of the cafeteria, what she did when she left, I guess I'll never know.
Annabeth left me alone with Rachel and a chorus of snickers that came from most of the other people at our table. Rachel sat back don, moving my hand again to where it was before her little argument with Annabeth. "So anyway, it was like super funny" Rachel continued as I just stared at our intertwining hands. I slipped my hand out from under the control of hers, looking into what I could see of her eyes as they wandered from every person at the table except for me, watching her not even care.
--
I walked through the giant crystal clear double doors and into a barren carpeted hallway, it was around nine o'clock so I knew I would find Annabeth here…alone. The front desk was empty and most of the lights were either dimmed or off. I could her Tchaikovsky's Swan lake blaring through the studio. I looked around and my eyes were assailed by the sight of almost a hundred doors, this place definitely didn't look this big on the outside.
I searched for the source of the music when I found a wooden door, I peeked through the window where I could see a giant wall-sized mirror adjacent to a light brown hard wood floor. Dancing through that mirror was the reflection of a tiny yet tall, a strong yet graceful, a beautiful yet, actually screw it, she was beautiful. I saw a dancer.
She used the points of her feet to guide her magically cross the floor, her two hands meeting at an excellent point and then she paused, lifting one of her feet to only six inches off of the ground, arching both fluidly and mechanically her whole body. Then, suddenly she stopped, quickly moving her both of her feet down forming a tiny launching pad as she sprung herself off of the ground forming beautiful shapes in the air, her arms and hands copying the drama in her face and movements.
She guided herself using her feet and the music as her eyes were closed, dancing a fairly calming ballet with the few exceptions of the little springs she do with the utmost energy. She balanced herself on only her tippy toes, before spreading her arms out widely and making them meet again at her center, catapulting her into a one hundred and eighty degree turn. Then gracefully walking to the far left corner of the studio, sticking her right foot out, pointing it and keeping the other flat on the ground, extending her fragilely placed arms in two different directions, she pointed her aesthetically built face downward. I thought the dance was over when I readied myself to enter. But the music started again, she began a serious of perfect turns, with the strength of an army and the gracefulness of a butterfly. I stood, astounded, as she turned about as though she was one of those turning dolls in an old fashioned jewelry box, her wing like arms fluttered about, surrounding her in effortlessly natural positions, the music and turns growing faster, until the music stopped and so did she.
She just stood there, her eyes remained closed as she breathed in and out calmly, her identity remained hidden behind pale eyelids and a line of thick black eyelashes. Her hair was worn in a golden blonde top knot at the apex of her head, only a few golden tendrils fell from the side of her perspiring face.
I slipped, letting my hand fall on the side of the doorknob pushing the door open. Her eyes opened immediately, they were tinted a rare grey, a grey that only belonged to one Annabeth Chase. She looked at me, a combination of confused and surprised, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, I cleared my throat nervously as she began to talk. "What do you want Jackson? Come to throw some more verbal punches?" she asked though I wasn't sure if it was sarcastic or expectant…maybe both.
I beginning reaching into my pocket, but instead a response came to mind, more than to mind, out of my mouth.
"You know you're kind of quick to judge, especially of a person you don't even know."
"Oh I know you Jackson." She said,t hough I wasn't completely sure if she finished, I interjected anyway. "That's exactly like me saying that I know you…Annabeth Chase, the girl who always sits in thr front center of the classroom, the girl who wears nothing but floral dresses, the girl who is oddly obsessed with ballet. I don't know you…just because I know of you. I'm fully convinced there's more to you than that, I won't pretend there isn't." I finished, leaving her flushed and floored, as I began to walk away when I realized why I had actually gone there in the first place.
I turned around and from across the room lightly threw her pen to her, "By the way, you forgot this." I said as she caught it with perfect precision, still staring blankly at me. I chuckled slightly at her expression before leaving.
Annabeth's Point of View
The loud thud of the closing door made me jump, which I honestly should be thankful for as I could barely move. I looked at the bright pink pen in my hand and scoffed. Did I, Annabeth Chase just lose an argument to Percy Jackson? Percy Jackson who is the most popular guy in school, Percy Jackson who is dating my worst enemy, Percy Jackson who made the trip all the way downtown just to return my pen, Percy Jackson who is not at all what he seems to be?
Yea…I guess I did.
Ending A/N- I really REALLY hoped you liked it! Keep looking for updates, because I'm usually pretty good about them. I'm going to try to not be such a review whore, but pretty pretty please review! Unless you're a writer on her you can't possibly imagine how much reviews actually help and influence in the writing of the story! So, if you're a writer and you want to give some joy to this girl right here, REVIEW, or even if you're just a reader, gimme some love and some REVIEWS because I love to hear your input and eeehhh compliments aren't bad either lol even constructive criticism is welcome! Thanks for reading! Read me! Favorite me! Review me! LOVE TO ALL!