Powder blue

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Charles Yager

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The room flooded with ballet dancers, young girls and boys were about ready to go home. The young adult dancers either star struck or tired.
Charles watched them disappear out the door, with all his photos taken and interviews recorders he was ready for the story to be published.
The year 1968 was a slow, lonely year for him. Charles was always admired from a view but not up front. They liked his porcelain skin that flushed with peach and his hazel eyes that danced along every view. His lips like a doll that always held a cigarette or a lollipop. His hair soft, short and jet black. Oh, how young he looked, only 21 and he looked 15. Almost all men liked him.

Charles walked to the door, about to leave to his apartment when he bumped into something. "oh god, I'm so sorry!"
 
A lot of people fought these days. To release their aggression. They bit and punched and kicked and ripped. But some, they danced. Annabelle was only 19 years old. Barely out of school. She wanted to be something more. She had been dancing in the ballet since she was just a little girl. She never got the lead role, but she was brilliant. Belle was never given the opportunity to show a real choreographer what she was worth, and after her parents couldn't pay for lessons anymore, she began dancing alone. She completely stopped going to tryouts, and classes, but instead used empty rooms to practice alone. On the weekdays, Belle worked as a secretary for a rich sexist pig, that always looking for a creative way to sneak in a grab. But Belle dealt with it. She was barely making enough to pay for her apartment. And on the weekend she was an editor at one of the smaller but significant new papers. She practiced, mostly at nights at the local Y.

As she walked tiredly down the hallway with ballet shoes under her arm, struggling to unzip her gym bag, she was knocked into by someone leaving their apartment. She her a mans voice, "Oh god, I'm so sorry!" She quickly bent down and scooped up her shoes. "No it's my fault. I do apologize." She mumbles politely, moving quickly down the hall, still trying to shove her shoes back into the bag. She finally got them in, and tied her long brown waves up into a ponytail, and smoothing it back with both hands. Way to go, you clumsy buffoon. She insulted herself.
 
"...okay" charles mumbled. He ran out the door, walking down the street. His bag was filled with everything he needed for college.
Next stop was the library. Charles saw the girl, he walked fast enough to catch up with her.
"I saw you dancing, your very good."
 
"You must be mistaken. I don't dance." She stutters, glancing over. Her pace steadied, and she slowed down a bit. She was already tired and she needed to get some dancing in tonight. Her boss had tried to kiss her again today and she elbowed him in the stomach. He laughed. She hated that stupid job.
 
"oh, sorry." He said. Charles looked through his bag, checking that he had all the assignments done. " what do you do then?"
 
"I'm a secretary and an editor." she looks over at him rifling through his bag, "What about you? Anything other than school?" she asked, watching people pass her, and bump her shoulder as the walk, in a hurry somewhere. She glanced around at all the buildings. She had work tomorrow, and she wasn't really excited to sit at a desk and review stupid stories that would never make it into the paper.
 
"I wright for a small magazine. It's called powder blue...it's a horrible read." He sighed. Charles looked around all the people in a hurry.
 
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Annabelle laughed softly. "Sounds wonderful." She grins and stops walking at the Y. "This is my stop. I'll see you around." She smiles and enters the building, walking over to one of the empty ballrooms. She checked and made sure no one was in the and went and got dressed. She took her bag and padded barefoot down to the room. She sat on a bench and laced up her shoes, humming softly to herself. She re-tied her hair into a tight bun and went to the barre and started stretching.
 
"we'll, see you around." Charles pulled out a cigarette and started to light it. The library was upstairs from the Y.
He ran upstairs and pulled out some books, amazingly, there were windows that showed the ball room. He took a small drag and started to read a passage on literary analysis.
 
She finished her stretches and got into first position. She didn't need to play music, because the way she wanted to dance, the speed, beat, and moves were all in her head. She took a deep breath and started. Her routine started off with a releve, a move that started and ended with a plie. The rest of the dance was filled with aerials, spins, and tendus. She finished her routine, in fourth. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. She skipped over to her gym bag and wiped off the sweat from her face with a small pink towel. She sipped from a water bottle, before returning to the center and starting again.
 
Charles watched, amazed about how she cans do all of that. He nodded off while he still held the book open and his cigarette was held in his mouth.
 
She finished her second routine, and checked the clock. She yawned and packed up, heading to the locker room to get dressed. She slipped her red and black polka dotted swing dress on over her head and slipped on her red heels. She grabbed her bag and exited the locker room, walking toward the front doors of the Y.
 
"hey!hey!" Charles yelled, running after her. "you seem interesting enough for an interview," he smiled. " I know, you don't dance for a living but it could get you somewhere."
 
"As far as anyone is concerned, I don't dance at all okay? Plus its just a hobby. I don't begin to compare to those other girls." She turned and pushed open the doors.
 
"Fine." He said as he left the building too, parting ways away from her.
 
She began walking back to her apartment. She went up the steps two at a time, and unlocking her door. She threw her bag in the corner and fell face first onto her couch. She groaned and punched one of the pillows. 'No one is supposed to know.' she thought to herself and sat up. She quickly changed into her pajamas, a simple pair of shorts and a tank-top. She grabbed her blanket and a book, and sat back down.
 
Charles continued to sleep for the rest of the day, forgetting all his deadline and curfews. Everything was boring.
 
Annabelle sat up in bed and got ready for the day. She slipped on a navy blue swing dress and brushed through her brown waves. She put a smidge of eyeliner around her light green eyes. She grabbed her leather bookbag and slung it over her shoulder. She scooped up her book and apartment keys, locking the door and walking down the hallway.
 
Charles arrived at the same place again, getting ready for more photographs to take and more interviews to record.
 
Annabelle walked slow. She wanted to delay getting to work as long as she could, just because she hated her job. She passed a dance studio, inside was that guy that bumped into her at the apartments. She shrugged and continued on her way to her job as editor of a local newspaper. She sat at her desk and rested her forehead on the cool metal. SHe sighed and waited for the bogus stories to roll in.
 
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