Dancing Shoes- Ch 1Chl

The shadow of the dance studio was getting darker and darker by the second. The clock struck 9, as I sat down on the dirty, green bus stop bench. Looking up at the dark building, my thoughts drifted from "I wonder if there'll be anything for dinner" to my dreams of being a famous dancer, as they always are when I'm here. Of course, it's only a dream; I can't afford classes.

Neither of my parents worked, but once me and my sister, Hayleigh were born 11 years ago, my dad looked for a job and got one about 5 years ago. He completly hates it: mailman, but it's all he's got. We still barely have any money, we have a pretty small apartment in Roxbury. Most nights we can have something for dinner, but not all. We usually have something for breakfast, but not always. Not lunch usually, but sometimes.

Still, I dream everynight about taking dance classes---ballet, jazz, hip-hop, tap, lyrical, everything and being great. The best in the world. I held my light-brown hair back in a bun, The way the dancer in one of the posters on the window's is tied back. I stand up on the bench, balance on my tippy toes, and twirl.

"Hey you!" I hear a loud voice yell into my ear, and I slip back into reality. A bus had stopped and there the bus driver was waiting, apperantly annoyed. "Do you want a ride or not?!"

"N-No," I stammered. "I was just-"

"Flying around in your own little world?" he interrupted. "I bet," he shut the door and zipped away.

I guess I might as well go home now, I thought, looking up at the clock tower. 9:14.

I took the longerway home, through the park, but I still got home pretty early. I don't know why I don't want to be home... I just don't.

One floor... two... three.. okay. Room 17, 18,19. Home. I wrapped on the door and Hayleigh let me in. It was like looking in a mirror... a mirror that changed our clothes. I was wearing a blue and green shirt, jeans, and red converse sneakers, where she was wearing black from head to toe. A black T-shirt, black jeans, and black converse sneakers.

I took off toward the room that Hayleigh and I share. I pushed open the brown door and stopped to look at the old sign, Chloe +Hayleigh's room, that we had made a long time ago. "Chloe" written in blue crayon, "Hayleigh" in pink, and "+" and "'s room" in back. Neither of us have ever cared that it looks more like a poorly drawn beach than writing. And I still don't care. Our room was cramped; 2 beds and a desk is really all that fits inside. Not having been changed in years, or room is so boring. I could run around it 10 times in the dark without hitting anything. We need a change, but mom says to wait. Wait, wait, wait. That's all I ever hear from her these days. Wait.