Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Luis put the car in park, glancing over at me. “Lexi, stay in the car. I will only be a few minutes. Lock the doors, okay?”
“I know why we’re here, Luis. You do remember smoking weed with me, right? You used to live in my neighborhood. Your parents still do. I know you sell drugs at NYU. I’m not stupid.”
“Stay in the fucking car, Lexi. You don’t know what this man is capable of. I didn’t tell him I was bringing anyone.”
“Then why did you bring me?”
“You know why… Your fucking foster parents are having another one of their parties. You don’t need to be there.”
“I’ve been there since you’ve been away at college,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear.
Luis was always nice to me. He was almost twenty-years-old and had been looking out for me for the past two years. Ever since I moved in with my foster parents.
“Lexi, just fucking listen. Why is that so hard for you to do?”
I shrugged, nodding, annoyed as I watched him open the car door. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to make money on the side. His parents didn’t have any, often leaving him to fend for himself, exactly like I had to. I never realized how expensive college could be until my advisor at school told me. She said I would have to apply for all kinds of loans and grants if I ever wanted to be admitted into a good school. The only one I was interested in was Julliard, and I had no idea how I was going to make my dream come true.
After my stepdad ran off, it only took three days for the principal to call me into his office to tell me they got an anonymous phone call, informing them I was home with no parental supervision. A few hours later I was sitting in Child Protective Services, waiting to meet my caseworker. They looked for him everywhere and I secretly prayed every night they would never find him.
They didn’t.
I had been thanking God ever since. It didn’t take long for them to place me with a family. I was only at the boarding house a few weeks top, which was surprising because I was technically not an ideal foster candidate. Meaning, I wasn’t a baby or a toddler. The only downfall was I had to move from the only place I’d ever known to Manhattan. Leaving behind Susan and my dance studio. I often wished she would have adopted me, letting me stay in my home town.
We wrote emails to each other every so often, but I never got up the nerve to ask her why she couldn’t take me in. Too apprehensive about what her answer would be. The last thing I wanted was to stay in a place I wasn’t welcome. My foster parents weren’t so bad though. I’d been living with them in a small New York apartment near the Manhattan Bridge for the last two years. They provided me with a roof over my head and food to eat, other than that, I was pretty much on my own.
Thank God there was a ballet studio not far from their home. I’d ride my bike over there every day after school, just to watch from the windows. Wishing I could be dancing like they were. Yearning for the music that once swept me away from reality, to take me away again. One day I got caught up in the melody, dancing right outside the studio along with the girls, while they were practicing a routine inside. It never crossed my mind that I could be seen, then the bell dinged above the studio entrance, startling me. I almost jumped out of my skin.
“Honey, you have been here for weeks. What are you doing out here?”
I bowed my head, embarrassed I’d been caught. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was a dancer back home in Rhode Island. Watching you gives me peace. I apologize for interrupting your class, I will be going now,” I said, walking past her to grab my bike.
“Don’t be silly. Come inside. You probably know the routine better than most of my girls,” the instructor gestured to the building.
She walked me in and introduced me to the other dancers. They were all very welcoming, inviting me to dance with them for the day. I didn’t have to be told twice. When the class was over, the instructor told me I had a talent like she’d never seen before, and I was allowed to come to class as long as I helped out around the studio. I’d been there ever since.
The sound of the car door shutting brought me back to the present, pulling me away from my thoughts. Rolling down my window, I watched Luis walk toward the two men in suits. I sat there like I was told, for a second, fighting the urge to open the door. I hated being told what to do. I wasn’t a child, I had never been.