Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight Saga or any of its characters. Stephenie Meyer does. All the songs belong to their respective owners.
Stay Together For The Kids
Their anger hurts my ears, been running strong for seven years
Rather than fix the problems, they never solve them, it makes no sense at all
I see them everyday, we get along so why can't they?
If this is what he wants, and it's what she wants, then why is there so much pain?
Stay Together for the Kids- Blink 182
"And a one, two, three, four," Mrs Lapski clapped her hands to the beat. I easily moved from one step to the next. Turn, ball chain, jump, spin. The task was hard, difficult, but yet I knew it so well I could have probably done it in my sleep.
"Here's the big finish. Make it count" She told us over the music. I flowed from one pose to the last step, ending in my spot. The last note faded out and we all smiled and clapped. I hugged my close friend, Melissa Roberts and we rejoiced in finally going through our dance without messing up.
"Great job, everyone." Mrs Lapski looked down at her watch. "We still have ten minutes left." She smiled. "I'll see you all next class." We cheered and made our way to the locker rooms, boys and girls respectfully.
"I can't believe we finally got through it," That was the resounding statement through out the locker room. A towel was thrown at me and I caught it easily. I wiped off the sweat, deciding not to take a shower.
"Cate," Melissa's squeaky voice called out. She opened her locker, next to mine, and pulled out her clothes. We both pulled on similar outfits; sweat pants that end at the knee and track jackets thrown over our leotards. The only difference was that I pulled on a pair of converse and Melissa had her Nike's.
"We are still hanging out this weekend, right?" She asked as we packed our things into our bags. I looked in the mirror and pulled my dark blonde hair into a better pony tail.
"Um," I stalled, trying to figure out an answer.
"Come on," she whined. "Don't bail on me again." I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling gulity. I had been promising that we would hang out, but I would always end up giving her lame excuses as to why I couldn't go. I needed to make this up to her, plus I needed to get out of the house.
"We're still on," I tell her as I pushed open the locker room door and we file out into the crowded hallway. Suddenly she squealed and threw her arms around me.
"Thank you, thank you!" I patted her arm and then pushed her off me. We laughed and walked to our academic classes. The classes were short and easy, passing quickly.
At The New York School of Performance Arts, all the focus was on your major wether it be dance, music or drama. That was your class work, your homework. It was the reason you went to school.
After a ride on the subway and a ten minute walk I was standing outside of my apartment building.
"Afternoon Ms Rostov," The doorman, Lou, tipped his hat to me as he held the door open.
"Thanks Lou," I get into the elevator and hit the '24' button. My stomach dropped as it raced upwards. Finally the doors opened and I stepped out into the well lighted hallway. I sigh when I get near my door; I can already hear the yelling. I opened the door and was flooded with eardrum bursting screaming.
I closed the door quietly behind me and tiptoed to my room. I turned on my stereo and let the music drown the screaming out.
It was nothing new. My parents fought almost everyday. They were both hot tempered and unfaithful, at least my mother was.
My mother, Bridget, was the only child of Irish immigrants. She was beautiful with long, copper colored hair, blue eyes and flawless, pale skin. She was petite, though, only reaching five foot two. Her parents, Michael and Katherine, raised her to believe that she was better than most people. My mother was a doctor and was gone a lot of the time. She was always working- or at least, that was what she said.
My father, Tim, had a much more interesting family history. His father, my grandpa Will, came over from Russia when he was just a small boy. My grandmother, however, was from a tiny fishing village in Washington, called La Push. It was an Native American reservation where the Quileute people still lived. When my grandma Lucy, graduated from high school she wanted out of the small town of less than a thousand people. She moved to New York City where she met my grandpa while attending NYU. They both graduated with their respective degrees and had four children, of which my dad was the youngest.
He had a brother, Will Jr and two sisters, Suzie and Cindy. Aunt Suzie was what Grandma Lucy called a "free spirit". They all had light, russet colored skin with dark hair and eyes. My father and Uncle Will were huge. Both of them reached over six foot four.
My dad worked on Wall Street. I was never exactly sure of what he did, but he also worked long hours and was barely home. You would think that with them 'working' all the time, that they wouldn't be home to fight. It was as if they made time just to fight. They would get off early and come home to argue.
I missed my brother, Lucas. He was older then me by three years so he was in his freshmen year of college. He went against the family tradition of attending NYU and went to Penn State, although he was still undecided for his major. He was lucky enough to be away from the fighting. He called every week.
Lucas and I looked alike, facially. But I was blonde and blue-eyed while he had brown hair and hazel eyes. He was huge, like our father. Reaching over six foot five and made of pure muscle, he looked more like a linebacker than a lazy nineteen year-old.
With my shower done, my hair styled and my make-up done, I took one last look in the mirror. I picked out a shiny, sliver top with beading in the middle with a purple shrug to go over it. Grey heels and black skinny jeans finished off my outfit.
I texted Melissa and told her to meet me at our usual Starbucks. I was just about to open the door, when a sharp voice stopped me.
"Where do you think you are going?" My father and mother stood in the large doorway, arms folded, their expressions nearly the same.
"I'm going to meet up with Melissa," I told them, hand still on the open door. "We were going to get something to eat and them maybe do some shopping, or see a movie. We haven't made up our minds." I gulped, praying that they would let me go. I didn't want to start a fight with them. I had inherited their tempers and quickness to words. But after seeing the damage that it caused, I guarded my tongue.
"You're not going any where," My mother sneered. My eyes tightened and I closed my mouth with an audible snap.
"It's Friday night, I never hang out with my best friend. All I do is stay in my room, listening to your senseless bickering. I'm sick of it." I glared at them, trying to keep my voice even. "Why don't you save me the trouble of going deaf at an early age, and get divorced already." The words rolled off my tongue and I couldn't find it in me to regret them.
They both stared at me in shock. I ran out the door and slammed it behind me. I ran to the elevator and quickly hit the button, taking me to the bottom.
I walked into the coffee shop, my feelings buried. I saw Melissa sitting at a table, waving me over. I sat down and she pushed a cup towards me. She knew what I liked. I smiled and took an sip.
"You're late," She mused. I nodded and she sighed. "Parents?"
"Unfortunately," I took another sip. "Let's get going." We both stood up and started the walk to Times Square. Many New Yorkers hate Times Square because of all the tourists. Melissa and I loved it because we always stood out from the crowd. We fit the tourists description of New Yorkers; pretty, well dressed and having confidence that would always exceed the average person.
I bought clothes and make-up that I didn't need. I used the credit card my parents gave to me. They used to take the time and have someone buy me a gift, but I would always have to take it back because it was the wrong size or it was more fitting for a five year old than a fifteen year old. So a couple of months ago they handed me a credit card and told me to use it when I needed to and used it, I did.
"So what happened this time?" She asked after I had dropped over two hundred dollars at Sephora.
"They tried to act parental, acting as if they really cared about where I was going. They took a break from fighting to cause me problems." I told her as we maneuvered our way through the weekend tourists.
"Since when do they care what you do?" She snorted and pulled me to another store. There went another nine hundred from my parents pockets. I was unusually happy.
"They've never cared. They only care when my report card comes. They don't even complain about my spending anymore because they know that they are being assholes. They really messed up as parents and they know it."
"What do you think of this shirt?" She asked me about a purple top. I complemented the shirt and how it went nice with her eyes.
When the time was nearing midnight, we called it a night and took a cab to Melissa's apartment. We had the doorman help us with our bags. We were greeted by Melissa's mother, Paula. Melissa and her mom were like clones. They had the same hair, eyes and facial structure. Her parents had divorced when Melissa was still a baby. Her mom was a successful interior designer but the monthly checks from Melissa's dad helped.
"Hey girls," Her mom greeted us both with hugs. "I hope you had a fun time." She eyed Melissa, "But not too much fun."
We both laughed. "I only spent what you told me I could." That was enough for Paula, but we all knew she would pour over the bill when it came just to make sure. Then Melissa would have to work to pay back her mom for the extra expenditures.
We hurried to Melissa's room and fell asleep quickly. The next morning I took my time getting ready to go back to my apartment and having to face my parents. They were always angry when I would slam the door in their face after reminding them how much they sucked.
"You can always stay another night," Paula told me as she sipped her coffee. I shook my head.
"No, it's better if I just go back now. If I go back tomorrow, that will just make them madder." After a quick good bye to Paula and a still sleepy Melissa, I grabbed my bags and had the doorman call me a cab when I reached the street.
After a too quick drive, I was home. When I opened the door, I took a deep breath. I walked in and closed the door behind me.
"...but do you have the number?" I heard my father's voice talking to someone on his phone. I booked it to my room and locked the door. I hung up all my new clothes and placed my new make-up on my dresser. I handle the package of new bed sheets and blanket from Urban Outfitters. I wasn't sure what to do with it so I stuck it on one of the shelves in my closet.
I pressed my ear to the door and listened to the muffled one-sided conversation my dad was having.
"Yes, I'm so glad you remember. Well it's about my daughter..." He walked further into the apartment and I couldn't hear him. It was quiet until I heard his footsteps and voice fifteen minutes later.
"...all arranged. Yes, they are fine with it. They were taken back by the arrival date, but were fine." There was a long pause, the he sighed. "Fine, I'll do it. Yea, bye."
I pulled away from the door and tried to keep my breathing even. Who could he have been talking to about me? Arrival date? Were they sending me away?
I jumped when there was a loud knock at my door. I opened it slowly and shot an accusing glare at my dad.
He sighed and walked into my room, sitting on the bed. "How much did you hear?"
"You're sending me away," It wasn't a question. I folded my arms and leaned against the wall.
"Yes, but listen to me," He said when I opened my mouth to yell at him. "It's for the best."
"How is it for 'the best'?" I quoted him, my voice was thick. "How is sending me away going to be the best for me? How?" I waited for an answer. He sighed again and stood up, rubbing a hand over his face.
"You're mother and I are getting a divorce." I snorted, unsurprised. He continued. "I don't want you around this auguring anymore. Your mother has been having an affair." He hung his head. Even though my father had a temper, he was a kind man always taking the blame for everything. He had never hit me when I was bad, he hated to even ground me. He was the one who gave me the credit card; he didn't know how else to make it up to me.
"I could have told you that," I whispered. "Why do you have to send me away? Why can't I stay?"
"Because it's going to be very messy. I'm sorry that I've let you be around as long as you have. We tried, Cate, really we did." he whispered back. I sighed. Could I really blame him for trying to protect me even if he was a bit late?
"Where am I going?" There was no point in trying to fight it. I was going, no matter what.
"Washington to live with my uncle Harry and his family. Do you remember them?" He told me.
My mind instantly flipped through the memories of La Push. I remember a man and a woman, both had dark russet skin, black hair and dark eyes. Their smiles were kind. Two more people flashed through my mind; a young boy and a older girl, both with the same complexion of their parents. Seth and Leah.
"Yes, I do." I felt the tears start to run down my face. I was going to have to leave my school, my dancing. I cried harder. I felt my dad's warm arms wrap around me.
"I'm really sorry, Cate. It really is for the best." His deep voice rumbled with sadness.
"When do I leave," I managed to get out.
"Next week," He sighed and held me tighter as I cried.
"What!? You can't leave!" Melissa shouted at me during warm-ups on Monday. I shushed her as people turned to look at us. I brought my leg up behind me and leaned foreword.
"Well I am," Mrs Lapski entered the studio and I made my way over to her.
"Hello, Cate." She greeted me. "Is there something you need?"
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm moving." I looked down and composed my face then looked back at her. She looked sad.
"Oh my, are you going to be continuing your dancing?" Her question cut me deep without her even knowing it.
"The nearest studio is nearly fours away from where I'm going. I won't be able to continue my training." I felt like crying. Dancing was my life. I had worked so hard to get into my school, now it was all doing to waste. I felt one cold tear escape.
"Oh Cate, I'm so sorry. Why do you have to move, may I ask?" She gave me a quick hug.
"My parents are getting divorced," That was the only explanation I gave her but she understood completely.
"You're such a wonderful dancer. I was going to transfer you to my more advance class." She told me, unknowingly twisting the knife even more.
"Yes. Cate you must realize how good you are," She eyed me.
"I just love dancing and always put my heart into it." I shrugged.
"And that is what makes you so good. Just remember to practice, even if you aren't enrolled in a class. Don't let the skill that you have slip away because you don't use it." I took in her advice and she started class.
"I just can't believe you're really leaving and you're not even putting up the usual 'Cate Rostov' fight." Melissa commented as she helped me pack. She held the sheets and blanket I had gotten earlier. I grabbed them and threw the package into the suitcase. According to my Grandma Lucy's stories of La Push, it was cold and wet. At least when I had gone shopping with Missy, I had been stocking my winter wardrobe.
We folded and packed away my brand new clothes along with my make-up and other items. I grabbed the picture frame that held my favorite picture of Lucas and I. I wrapped it between a shirt so it wouldn't get broken.
Later that night I called Lucas.
"Wow." Was all he could say when I told him. I brushed away the tears.
"Yup. I have to give up dancing. Luc, I worked so hard ever since I was six, just so that I could dance. I can't even do what makes me happy." I cried harder. He was the only one who ever understood how important dancing was to me. When I was younger, he would walk me to my dance classes and sometimes he would stay and watch me. He went to every recital, took pictures and would hand me a lily after every performance.
"I know," He sighed. "I wish you could just come live with me. I hate to think that you're living with people you barely know."
I shrugged, even though he couldn't see it. "I don't know. I remember they were nice, except that Leah girl. I'll be fine. I'm always okay, no matter what."
"But you're not okay. You think you've been handling this well, but you haven't been dealing with it at all. I know you, Cate." I could just picture the look on his face. Excusing, yet worried all at the same time.
"I will be fine, though. I'm not broken."
"Yet," he sighed. "I love you, Cate. Tell Mom and Dad I said 'hi'."
"I love you, too."
Unfortunately, the week flew by and before I knew it I was at the airport hugging Melissa good bye. I didn't cry, I would save it for when I arrived in Washington.
"Call me, don't forget." She told me, through her tears. I gave her one last squeeze and heard my flight being called.
"Live with your heart," I smiled.
"And dance with your soul." She finished for me, smiling. My parents hadn't come. I didn't want them too.
I handed my ticket to the lady at the door and gave one last smile to Melissa as she waved to me.
Good bye life as I knew it, hello bleak and deary Washington.
Here is the first chapter rewritten. I like it so much better. I hope y'all do to. Thanks for reading. Check out the links!