Hi guys :) Just a warning, I'm not the best author! This is pretty mediocre, even for my usual work, I just need to get back into the vibes of writing often and it'll improve (no promises though <3)
Ballet was Amy's comfort place. It made all the issues at home feel small, made her muscles feel smooth - it was her home. So when she got into a fight with her ballet teacher over something as small as someone bumping into her in the midst of a class, and the teacher went as far as asking her to leave, Amy felt all of that comfort crash down on her. No matter how much she argued and threatened, she only made it worse.
Now, Amy was seated outside of the ballet studio, glaring at her car keys. She stood and walked towards her car, unlocking it and glancing around. This was a shady area, she was willing to admit that even someone as aggressive as her felt a bit uncomfortable. The smell of weed filled the air, making her scrunch her nose - it was almost gag inducing how strong it was. Amy turned on her heal, wondering where the smell came from; a car she'd recognized from her school parking lot sat several spots away, windows down and a boy around her age seated in the front seat. He looked half dead, leaning out the window as loud music spilled from the vehicle's radio. The other person in the car was in the driver's seat, and Amy immediately figured he was selling something from the window, with the few people near the car walking away in a hurry. The thought was compelling - smoke a bit, calm her nerves after getting kicked out of the studio. The boy in the passenger's seat glanced up at her and smiled, eyes half-focused and face bright red.
"You here t' buy?" He asked, voice hoarse and lazy. He yawned, sitting up and shaking his messy brown bangs from his pale face - dear god, this kid was absolutely gone. Amy almost laughed - the poor guy looked far worse than she'd expected. The boy in the driver's seat huffed at the scruffy boy beside him.
"Trent, what did I say about making offers? She could be some cop's kid! What the hell is wrong with you-" The boy went on a long tirade, complaining about the boy beside him, though it was clear this 'Trent' guy wasn't paying the least bit of attention. Amy snickered, shaking her head and taking a step back.
"No need to worry, 'm not a snitch! Just thought this guy was dead in your car." Amy explained, hoping it came off as comedic - but the boy in the driver's seat just stared at her, clearly bothered by her presence.
"Just...just fuck off, kid. I've got shit to sell - if you ain't a paying customer get out." He growled, turning away. Trent giggled softly, gazing up at Amy with a small, dope-like grin.
" 'Just fuck off'," Trent quoted the other boy, glancing over at him. "Alex, you're so funny." This comment earned him an elbow to the ribs. He whined, falling back into the seat and huffing at Alex once more. He turned to Amy and rolled his eyes. "This is the shit I deal with. Can you imagine?" Trent asked, seemingly genuine. Amy shrugged, taking another step back.
Trent's eyes traveled over the girl before him, taking in her deep mahogany skin and her curly hair. He hummed at her, giving her a small, lazy wave before laying his seat back and turning to face his friend.
Amy walked back to her car soon after, gazing behind her just once at the smoky vehicle, before sitting down and starting her car. The fact that she'd been kicked out of the studio had escaped her mind when she was speaking with Trent and Alex - but reality came crashing back down, and she now felt a dull ache in her chest.
