Passion and Pain (Dancers and Divas) Read Free Page A

for her early last year, before she got really sick with cancer. Her mom had really had wanted her to follow her dream of writing , even though Veronika had no faith in herself. Her mom had passed away last spring and now Veronika was here, wanting to reach her dreams for the both of them.
    Elena gulped to hold back the tears. There was silence in the room.
    “Thank you for sharing that with us,” the teacher said. “That was beautiful. Your gift for words is apparent .”
    “Thank you,” Veronika whispered.
    “So, class, who can tell me what made that good? Shantal ?”
    “It was like, really sad and she used lots of big words.”
    Veronika rested her chin on her hands and drummed her fingers against her face , clearly unimpressed. Elena raised her hand.
    “Elena , is it?”
    She nodded. “She used really detailed descriptions of her emotions and her environment. There were also strong metaphors that made the writing come to life.”
    “Excellent.”
    “Teacher’s pet,” the boy in the seat opposite her whispered.
    “Seriously? What are we, fourth grade?” Elena retorted.
    “They forgot to check his ID on the way in,” Veronika whispered. Elena smiled.
    Another student was chosen to read his story.
    “Sorry about your mom,” Elena said.
    Veronika simply nodded.
    The boy finished his reading and sat down , seeming pleased with himself.
    “Any comments?”
    “It was cool,” a girl in the front row said. That was deep.
    “Yeah, awesome,” his neighbor called out, giving him a high-five.
    Veronika rolled her eyes.
    “I think you needed to have a bit more structure to it,” the teacher said. “And the p oint of v iew was a bit unclear. Does everyone know what I mean by p oint of v iew?”
    Veronika raised her hand.  “It’s the perspective of the person telling the story. Things are described as if we were seeing it through th at person’s eyes.”
    “Perfect.”
    “Look at M iss S marty P ants. Knows all the answers, doing it for her mom,” the same boy sniggered quite loudly.
    Veronika’s face crumpled. The little bastard.
    “Ignore him,” Elena said. “Obviously not the brightest one in the room .”
    “He’ll be sorry when I’m writing stories for the school newspaper,” Veronika said.
    “Homework assignment,” the teacher said, “is to write a two - minute script of the story you wrote today. It’s to be done in pairs and finished by next week.”
    “Hey you,” the sniggering boy said, p oking Elena with his pen.
    “What?”
    “Let’s pair up.”
    “Um, no. I want a partner who’s smart,” she said. “Veronika, what do you say?”
    “Sounds good. I would never want to be with someone who wasn’t my intellectual equal.”
    “ What ?” the boy said.
    “I rest my case,” Veronika said. Elena giggled.
    “I’m Elena , by the way.”
    “My friends call me Roni .”
    “Do you really work on the school newspaper?”
    “Yeah. I can’t wait. I’ll get to hear all the gossip first hand. They always say the pen is mightier than the sword,” she said, her emerald green eyes glittering with amusement.
    “Nice to meet you Roni . See you later.”
    “Bye.” Veronika hugged her laptop and walked out.
     
     
    Elena got through her next classes without incident. Lunch time came and she was looking forward to see ing Sebastien and find ing out how he was doing. Now, where to sit?
    She walked into the large open space. Students were everywhere, sitting in groups. There was a cluster of students dressed in tights, their hair pulled back into tight buns - obviously dancers. There were students with instruments by their feet and others relating stories with exaggerated hand gestures . P robably actors. There were kids practicing vocal harmonies and others typing on their laptops. The buzz was electrifying , yet somewhat overwhelming. Elena picked up her tray and moved along the line . At the back of the room were wall - to - wall glass windows that revealed an outdoor