Long time no see (if you're a returning reader which I am sure I have few, if any, left). If you're new, then I welcome you to my humble and disastrous story. I told myself I wouldn't start another story until I finished What Society Forbids, which, by the way, I erased and am rewriting. But I've been working on this story for two years now, since freshman year of high school and have been so impatient to get it posted.

I really do hope I actually get around to completing this story without it meeting the fate of my others, but we'll see what happens.

Let's get on to reading, shall we?

Enjoy :)


A blonde twiddled with her fingers as she sat on a blue chair. She sat on the furniture rigid and upright, her face not betraying a single one of her feelings or thoughts. Though comfy (and no doubt made with the highest of quality), the chair was far from comfortable for her. She found herself feeling rigid on it, upright, and the softness of seat digging into her tush. Of course, this couldn't be owed to the chair. (How could it when she was used to sitting on those of her kitchen table?) Rather, her rigidness of posture and facial expressions were due to her anxiety.

All who walked into the office and passed her couldn't help but look at the girl in admiration. Why, she was sitting so elegantly and it was an incredible fact that not a single curve could be found in her spine. This girl, she was ballerina, and a good one at that (if her large bust and behind were any indication). After all, ballerinas are known for their lack of curves, which, do in fact, aid them in their balance as they perform thousands of pirouettes in seconds and fly in the air. But for this ballerina to have the body she has, then an incredible ballerina she must be!

And so, people passed by her, admired her, asked for autographs (in fear of them missing out on the chance of meeting a dancer like her before she got famous and was impossible to see), smiled at her and gave her their babies to kiss.

But all these things were interrupted when a receptionist came out from an office, shutting the door slowly behind her, and beckoning to the blonde. The girl, thankful for finally having been called, stood from her chair, finally no longer feeling uncomfortable, and walked to the office she was being beckoned to. She smiled at the woman who told her, "Go right in ahead Ms. Ashley. Mr. Makarov is waiting for you."

Upon entering the office, her transcripts in hand, the blonde simply stood at the door, eyeing her surroundings. Pictures were hung on the walls, their black frames making an effective contrast with the somewhat shabby brown wall. In all those pictures, stood pictures of graduates, winners of competitions, all smiling happily, hugely, their trophies, medals or diplomas held up in the air by their owners. In one of the photos was another blonde, one that looked much like our blonde, with large brown eyes and a pink skintight leotard and a tutu wrapped tightly, standing proudly on her hips. She smiled hugely, her lips pink, and a golden trophy with a plaque that read 1st place was in her hand. Next to her, also smiling proudly at the camera, was an older man, seemingly around his mid-forties.

It was the same man who sat below that picture, behind his wooden mahogany desk upon which papers were strewn across. He was typing busily on his keyboard and the click clack sound was furious.

Lucy remained for a few seconds standing still, hoping to be noticed by the man and asked to sit down, but it didn't happen. Rather, the man continued to type at his computer before saying gruffly, "Aren't you going to sit down, Miss?"

And so, Lucy sat down on one of the chairs facing him. She opened her mouth to say hello, but found herself interrupted. "I've been told you wish to matriculate into my school."

"Well I- You see, I-" Lucy stuttered, her face becoming nervous.

The old man finally stopped typing and turned his attention to her. "It's a simple yes or no question. Do you want to get into my school or not?"

"Y-yes! I do! Uh- umm, here are my transcripts," she jabbed her hand in the direction of the old man and stared at the floor as she continued, "I uh, took a great number of AP classes, I was always top in my grades. My best class was English and I even wrote for the school's newspaper and I was editor-in-chief and-"

The man took the transcripts, after what had seemed an eternity for Lucy, but didn't spare them a glance. He threw them into the wastebasket besides his desk. "What did you contribute to in the newspaper other than being in charge?"

"I wrote for a column in it."

"What was the column about? Dance?"

"Actually," she drawled, "It was a collection of short stories and creative writings," she didn't hesitate to add, "But it was the most popular in the whole school!"

"Frankly Ms. Heartfilia, I could care less about your grades. Your dancing is what I care the most about," the man sighed, his hand on his temples, "I don't see why you're even bothering to enter this school. It's clear you have a talent for what's academic. Mostly writing, I presume. You've never even taken a dance class from the sound of what you've told me."

"I… I have. A-And my last name isn't Heartfilia, it's Ashley."

"Well, Ms. Ashley, you expect to just walk into this school, without a proper audition may I add, and expect to be accepted. Not only that, you walked into this school, Mavis' Academy of the Arts, thinking that I, Makarov, the principal of this school wouldn't recognize you as a Heartfilia?"

Lucy was silent at this and simply looked down. Mr. Makarov sighed, his hands returning to his temples. "If you wanted to pass with a different alias, choose a different one that isn't Ashley. 'To hell with that name!' should've been your first thought. Choosing your mother's maiden name was a horrible mistake."

"I- I just," Lucy began to speak but found herself interrupted.

"You said you have taken a dance class before. Was it in high school? You should've mentioned that tidbit rather than your famous column or your AP classes."

"Well, I didn't take one in high school. My last dance class was when I was ten…"

Makarov sighed once more, clearly stressed. He said, "Very well, do you at least have a letter of recommendation?"

Lucy choked, "A letter of recommendation? Why?"

"How else do you expect to be accepted?" he sent her a small smile when the girl squealed, "So do you?"

"Y-yes! I do!" Lucy dug around her purse, the rustling of papers being heard, "She pulled out a crumpled letter, but its writing was pristine. I uh… the letter's fine I just… I have so many documents in here, but I haven't opened it or anything." The girl was glowing by now.

"It's fine. Whether you've read it or not doesn't matter. Regardless, welcome to the academy. Orientation is Monday and so is your first day of class. I'll be placing you in the beginner's level. Make sure to bring your proper clothes. For now, Aquarius will be fine with anything you find comfortable dancing in, except for jeans, and make sure it's black. You'll get an e-mail soon informing you about your schedule."

"Oh! Thank you so much, Mr. Makarov!"

The old man sent the girl out promptly, but smiling all the while. She was just like her mother, in the way she smiled, talked and acted. Lucy walked out the door, a spring in every one of her steps, and she closed the door behind her, but not before promising the old man that she wouldn't disappoint him.

Dear God, it wasn't like she'd be able to, even if she wanted. She was Layla's daughter after all.

After bidding the secretaries good-bye, and shaking the hands of, presumably, other students in the office, Lucy left. She arrived at the parking lot and took out the keys to her car, but found herself interrupted when she heard the light ring of her phone. She took it out read the screen and furrowed her brow. She ignored the text, rolled her eyes and opened her car's door.

Prepared to drive off, she put on her seat belt and looked through her rear view mirror. She carefully eased herself out of the parking but hit the gas pedal hard when the light rings of her phone increased in volume. She managed to hit her breaks on time (she was less than an inch away from hitting another car) and, angrily, parked herself again before taking out her phone. Lucy was about to read the sea of texts she had received, but, yet again, found herself interrupted, this time by a phone call.

"What do you want, Sting?" she seethed into the receiver, "I'm busy."

"Look, Lucy, I'm just calling to see how you are. Did you get into the academy?"

"It's not any of your business, you know. Whatever I do shouldn't be of your concern. Besides weren't you the one who broke up with me? Leave me alone." Lucy made a move to hang up but was stopped when she heard Sting scream.

"Wait! Just answer: yes or no. I'll hang up after that."

It seemed her life was full of yes or no questions.

"Yes, now hang up."

"Oh thank goodness! You see-"

The boy was hung up on and Lucy blocked the number. With a smile, she threw her phone onto the backseat of her car. She gripped the steering wheel and once again resumed leaving the parking space. Monday would be the start of a new life, a new chapter, a new book. She'd be dancing again, after twelve years.

Twelve godforsaken years.

"Hey, it's me," a male voice said, "I just talked to her and-"

"Talked?" asked the voice with surprise, "I'm surprised she answered, or didn't hang up on you for that matter."

"I mean she did, but-" the man scowled when the person on the phone laughed furiously. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, "Hey! That's not what the point is! The point is-"

The laughter of the person died down and they managed to say, "Whether she made it or not, I know. Hey- what's up with that posture? I've told you a million times to straighten your back you idiot! How are you the greatest-" the man scowled and moved the phone away from his ear.

"Hey, Aquarius, you think you could stop yelling at your students while you're talking on the phone? For my ear's sake?"

"You called me, in the middle of instruction I may add, and-"

Sting heard another male voice come from the background. "God dammit, Aquarius," the man yelled, "This stretch is hurting me! My posture was perfect; I could see in the mirror!"

"With that attitude, I don't understand how you're this academy's pride! You're going for divine not perf- Hey! I saw you roll your eyes at me!"

"I," the man grunted, "did nothing of the sort."

"You fu-"

Sting yelled, "Aquarius!"

Louds shouts and yells came before the sound of a loud thump and groan was heard. Sting could sense Aquarius smugness seeping through his cellphone. Laughing she said, "I'm gonna have to call you later. A big competition is coming up and some idiot thinks he's better than moi. Call me some oth-"

"But Lu-"

"Oh, I'm sure she made it. She's Layla's daughter after all," she whispered this before perkily adding, "I'm hanging up now!" Aquarius put her phone into the pockets of her sweats and turned back to look at a young man with pink hair (also wearing sweats and a black t-shirt), his right leg up on a barre, his left bent at a ninety degree angle and quaking. He breathed hard and fast, a consequence of his bent back and neck. "Am… this pose… can I stop?" he pleaded amidst gasps.

"Hold it for another thirty seconds. In the meantime, listen to what I'm about to say."

He reminded her he had no choice regarding the matter.

"This school year, we're getting a very special girl, last I checked, lots of potential. I'd say, better than Erza too. She's- ah, you can rest now."

The guy's pink hair blurred as he dropped to the floor and lay like a sea star. "You… you want me to… tu… tutor her?" he gasped.

"No, no, no. This girl is a special project of mine, a way to fulfill a promise of mine. What I'm asking is you stay away from her, don't think of her, don't speak to her, don't even speak of her. I don't need Natsu Dragneel's playboy charm to be ruining her."

"What?" Natsu grinned, "You think I'm charming Aquarius?" His gasps for air had now stopped.

"I'm only saying what I hear the girls scream during your performances. Regardless, don't interfere."

"Whatever you say, but don't you think I should be getting a name, or maybe a physical description? Maybe it's just me, but I think that would help me in complying with your favor."

Aquarius reached into her pocket, her phone coming out with her hand. She handed it to him after having spent a few seconds scrolling. Natsu held the phone in his hands, looking at the image before him: a blonde girl with porcelain skin, brown eyes and large smile that held a plaque in her hands. The picture was below a large headline that read: Lucy Ashley's Short Story Slippers Wins Magnolia University Scholarship Contest. A slow whistle from Natsu showed his admiration. "Magnolia University, huh. Even I would've given up Mavis' for Magnolia, quite interesting she didn't. Still, I don't know why you're so worried about me meeting her when she's clearly here for our writing program, I'm guessing… screenwriter?"

"She's joining the dance program, you idiot."

There was a brief pause before he continued, "She looks a lot like Layla Heartfilia don't you think?"

Aquarius laughed. "Do you really think so?" she asked mockingly.

"Of course I do, Layla is my idol, I know what she looks like. I mean, look at the hair, the eyes, even her smile shows hints of Layla. This girl, Luigi, she's pretty."

"Lucy, and I see someone has finally caught your eye… I guess she does look like her, if you stare long and hard. Regardless, don't talk to her."

Natsu raised an eyebrow at the teacher a grin on his lips. "Is this your indirect way of telling me to mess with her? 'Cause if it is, I'm all for it."

The woman asked him why he thought so, to which he replied that she knew he never messed with new students: they were easily scared and fragile when dealing with an upperclassman. The answer he got was that he could take the advice and twist it into any shape or form he wanted. After all, Lucy was a special girl; Aquarius knew this and, after what had happened in her life, she would need some kind of guidance, a friend.

But she was also headstrong, foolish, and idiotic. And so, the teacher figured, Natsu could be her guide, her friend.

Or Lucy could screw him over; for her, it was a win-win situation.

So when the timer signaled the end of the three hour session and Natsu began to pack his bag and leave, Aquarius simply smiled at him and said, "Prepare for Monday, Natsu. It's gonna be a whirlwind for you."


One hundred million thanks for having made it this far! See those buttons below? If you can, out of the goodness of your heart, click them and maybe leave a review while you're at it. I know I have a lot to work on in regards to writing which is why I've told myself I'm going to start writing again. So, if you can and want to, leave me some critique as well.

Chapter 2 will most likely be uploaded between this week or the next, so I hope to see you then!