The Beauty of Dancing Chapter 1

I'm trying desperately to focus on Mr. Vaughn's monotonous voice in Science. He's lecturing us on atoms, I think. Hard to tell. With his slow, steady voice it's all just white noise to me. I don't like Mr. Vaughn, he's an arrogant man. And he's just so... so...
A nudge to my ribs causes me to sit up straight and snap to attention. The whole class is quiet except for Matt, who's sniggering beside me. I'm guessing he's the one who gave me the painful nudge. Would it be weird to tell your mate he has sharp elbows? Probably, but I can't worry about that right now. The class is quiet for a reason. Mr. Vaughn's baggy eyes are focused on me. I must have fallen asleep. Oh crap.
"Have a nice nap did you Nick?" asks Mr. Vaughn smugly. He loves catching me out. I love laughing at his receding hairline. We all enjoy different interests.
I decide to make the most of this problem and turn it into entertainment for the class. I'm nice like that.
"Very much so Sir, thankyou." I smile as if we were good friends.
"Perhaps you can continue your nice nap in detention." says the teacher, smiling like a shark.
"Probably not Sir. You see, it smells really funny in there, I don't think I'd be comfortable enough to fall asleep. And anyway, how am I supposed to doze off without hearing you drone on about atoms?" Most of the students in the class giggle at that, with a few others gasping in shock. I lean back, my work done. Apparently my victory comes with a price. I can tell by the way Mr. Vaughn's face has turned a rather alarming shade of red. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea.

Half an hour later I walk out of the room, breathing fresh air as if I'm a convict escaping a life of imprisonment. That was the longest talk on respect and behaviour I've ever had. I think I would have preferred detention. I make my way to where my friends sit. The lunch bell went a while ago, but maybe I still have time to gulp down some grub. The table cheers as I come into view. Mr. Vaughn isn't a popular teacher, so my words had a good affect on the rest of the class. I bow before sitting down next to Lill. Matt and some of the other guys are throwing a battered football around. There's jeering as Sam drops it.
"C'mon Nick!" calls Matt, "show him how it's done!"
"Would love to!" I call back, "but even football legends like me have to eat sometimes!" cue more jeering. I pull out a sandwich and take a bite. But before I can even taste the food, the bell rings. Damn you Mr. Vaughn.

Waiting

He stood in the rain, looking down both ends of the street, waiting. The freezing water came down in sheets, making sure there was no chance of him staying dry, even with the use of his old umbrella. The street light flickered, illuminating his anxious expression randomly. It was so late, or perhaps early, and there was not another person in sight, not a car on the road. And he continued waiting. He heard the pounding footsteps of someone trying to escape the downpour. His head whipped around to the direction of the sound, the only sound apart from the unrelenting rain. A figure came into sight, carrying a briefcase over their heads as if it could help. And they continued running right past him, and he looked back to the ground. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the relaxing smell of water against tar. He rested his hand on his stomach, which was filled with butterflies that refused to settle down. Would this be worth the wait? He was beginning to think not, but if there was even the slightest shred of a chance... He had been confident at first, but was no longer so sure.
Suddenly the man stopped shivering, for he was now numb to all but one feeling. The street light flickered out once more, and this time it didn't turn back on. He was plunged into darkness, with only the rain as his company. With one long sigh, he sunk to the footpath, dropped the umbrella and let the rain claim the last of him. She hadn't come.

The Windchime

She sat in bed, a place where she had not left for 2 days. Never had she felt this depressed or lonely. Everytime she closed her eyes she would see his face. Every detail would be clear. The stubble on his chin that suited him so well, his thick brown hair, his beautiful green eyes. And she would remember him speak. She would sink into the sound of his voice, the voice that was rich like dark chocolate.

There was this one particular memory, the memory of these two lovers meeting for the first time. She had been looking in the windows of a junkshop, curious to see what little treasures would be inside. A wind chime near the door of the shop lit up the air with its metallic yet delicate clinking. A man inside the shop appeared on the other side of the window. Distracted, she looked up at him. It was the first time she had ever seen him, and had no idea in the slightest what an impact he would have on her later on.

But she no longer wanted to dwell on the past. Using every ounce of strength and determination, she slid out from the silk sheets of her bed and slid right down to the floor. It wasn't much, but that first move had given her the hope that she really could get over this. So she picked herself up off the floor and finally found herself in an upright position. She glanced at her desk, now in a layer of dust, and saw the small, blue Chinese box. Inside would be two metallic balls painted with the symbols of ying and yang, and with little bells hidden in the middle of each ball. She used them whenever she wanted to cheer up. The sound they made when the little bells started chiming was like nothing she had ever heard before, so they didn't remind her of anything. No bad memories could be brought up from the sound of the bells. She would be able to choose her thoughts. They helped her to be in control of her own mind.

She went over to the delicate box. She picked up the two little balls inside and started to roll them around in the palm of her hand. Soon she would be happy, content. But just as she started to smile, something happened that had never happened before. The balls made her think of a memory. Those little bells she had relied upon sounded just like the windchime that had been outside the junk shop, the day she had met him. This was one memory that always brought tears to her eyes. The last of her hope evaporated. Like a balloon losing its air, she sank to the floor once more, not sure if she would ever rise again.