Saving Josie: Turner Family Secrets Books 1-3

Saving Josie: Turner Family Secrets Books 1-3

Rachael Kitterman · Ongoing · 87.9k Words

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Introduction

If there is one person Josie hates more than her aunt Beth, it's Richard Kingston. The boy who tortured her growing up. But she thought she'd seen the last of him years ago. So, why the hell is he showing up now to ruin her life? Why is he demanding she marry him, when she was planning on marrying her boyfriend James? And why does it seem like he's keeping secrets she doesn't want to unlock?

Chapter 1

I step out into the bright lights with the rest of the dancers on strange. I'm not a soloist. Not yet. I'm only 10, after all. But I've got time. Lots of time, actually. I've been practicing since I was really little. I don't know if it's because Mom and Dad are also dancers that I got my love of dancing from them, or if it's purely just me.

Mommy and Daddy told me if I work really hard I might get to be a soloist. I'm not sure I want to be Prima. I just want to dance without all the drama. Prima's have to work harder and get more broken toes than anyone else. They are really hard on their feet. I have enough problems with my own, I don't need to end up in the hospital because I broke my leg.

Mommy and Daddy run the Black Swan Dance Company. And they said there is going to be a special guest here today for our performance. They didn't tell me anything other than that, only that they wanted me to dance perfectly for him. Well, I will give it my best shot. I don't even know if he will know who I am. I look just like every other ballerina.

I can't see anything other than the blinding lights, but that's okay. It lets me get into my right head space and my starting position. If I think too hard about all those eyes on my I get nervous... Even though I've been doing this for ages, I still get butterflies in my tummy when people watch me.

I take a deep breath and exhale all the tension from my body and focus. I have to be absolutely perfect for Mommy and Daddy and their special guest.

The first notes glide through the speakers and we sway in our shimmery costumes. We aren't really wearing tutus today. More like sheer skirts that flow down our thighs and our leotards are violet.

My shoes are laced up in ribbons up my tights. My long honey brown hair is all up in a tight bun and my makeup is precise. I feel like a little dress up doll... Or maybe a doll in a music box spinning around and around for everyone to see.

On my toes I can pretend I'm flying across the sky as I bend and swirl, perfectly in time with the music. My arms stretch and sway, following the flow and rhythm that has been drummed into me.

We dip low and spin on our toes. Reach up to the sky and lift our legs, balancing on our toes like flamingos. Graceful. Always graceful movements. Flowing and beautiful. Powerful and strong. Point and flex. Leap and pirouette. Movements that have been made into muscle memory. I don't have to think about anything... I just follow the music.

I love dancing. It is my life. I don't even remember how old I was when Mommy and Daddy started me dancing. It just seems like I was born with ballet slippers on my feet. As I grew older, I grew stronger and my dances became more complex. Soon, there will be tryouts again. I am hoping for a solo position, but I might not be ready for it yet.

Mommy and Daddy always tell me I need to reach for the stars... And that's what I'm doing. I'm reaching for my star. I want to show the world what a good dancer I am... Even if the thought scares me a little.

I don't even know what I would do if I had to grow up and not dance... I don't have a backup plan... But I push the depressing thought away. There is no way I'm not dancing in my future!

As one we leap gracefully into the air and land on our toes. I'm lucky I didn't fall down. Last week Marci fell and she had to be taken out because she twisted her ankle. We had to adjust, but that's part of the process.

We are getting toward the end of our performance and I can feel the tensions in the music, building to our grand finale. I put all my effort into my movements, focusing on the perfect movements. On grace and flow. There is no time to think, just follow the actions that have been drilled into me for months now.

We gather in the center stage and hold hands as we spin in cannons and fall gracefully to the ground... Like flower petals... We hold still as the last dancer drops to the floor.

When the last note of the music vibrates through the speakers, we hear applause and we all get up and as one we bow to our unseen audience.

Only then do I release the breath I've been holding and look up into the darkness with a smile on my face. We did it! My heart beats speed up and my breathing slows. I'm so excited! I can't wait to see my parents. I hope I did well for our guest... whoever he is.

We are not the last performance, we have to wait for another 4 more sets to take the stage before I'm allowed to see my parents. We watch the performances on a television that is set to record the dances. Each of the performances were fantastic. There were two soloist, and one was the Prima ballerina. I don't envy her at all. She just has way too much pressure to make sure she doesn't mess up her routine. All I have to do is make sure I follow along with the other dancers and don't make a mistake... Even in a large group, mistakes can still be seen.

Finally it is time to meet my family. I'm giddy to finally see what they thought of our dance. Just because Mommy and Daddy run the place doesn't mean they get to sit in on ever practice. They have a business to run and leave the dances up to the instructors.

Mom comes up and hugs me. After a long dance, this is exactly what I needed. I am still jittery, even after sitting through 4 additional sets. I guess the adrenaline will wear off later tonight... Hopefully before bed. "You did so well, Josie! I'm so proud of you!"

"Yes, you did great, pumpkin!" Dad says giving me a kiss on the cheek, before he picks me up and spins me around. I always feel like a little girl when he does that to me. But I'm not little, I'm 10! But I love it anyway... I will never admit to that though.

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The image of her standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan tighter around her narrow shoulders, trying to smile through the awkwardness, won’t leave me.

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