The Player

Chapter 2

Brielle

8:03

"Christopher, wait!" I yelled down the hallway, nearly out of breath. I practically had to run in order to

keep up with his long strides. "Where are you going?"

With his back still turned to me, he replied "I'm leaving. If you think that I'm doing ballet in front of the

entire school you're crazy."

I shook my head, frustrated at myself for thinking that he would even want to help me out. He was just

another rich kid who only looked out for himself, and refused to help anyone else. He never knew the

feeling of having to put hours into something that he truly wanted, instead of it being handed to him. My

face grew hot as all of my pent-up anger built up, before I had no choice but to say something.

"Look, I get that you have never had to work for anything in your life, but some of us actually have to. I

have dedicated too much time and effort to dance to let some arrogant, entitled, rich kid screw it all up

for me! So, can you for please, for once, focus on someone other than yourself, and help me!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, before spinning on his heels and marching towards me, anger seething

on his face.

As he came closer to me, I took two steps back, suddenly aware that screaming at a guy I barely knew

may not have been the smartest move.

"Don't you ever, for a single second, act like you know a single thing about me. You have no clue about

what my life is like." His face was almost touching mine.

I crossed my arms and locked my eyes onto his, suddenly getting a boost of confidence. "Well then

prove me wrong, and help me."

He scanned me up and down, before taking a second to mill the idea around in his head. After what

seemed like an eternity he finally answered.

"No."

And with that, he turned back around and walked out of the school, taking my dreams of Julliard with

him.

_

"No!" Sam yelled, snatching the remote from my hands. "We're not watching How to Lose a Guy in Ten

Days again!"

Me and my best friend Sam were currently in her bedroom, laying on her bed, trying to decide which

rom-com from the 2000s to watch. Sam and I had been best friends ever since fourth grade, where we

bonded over our love of Jenga and One Direction. She was one of the smartest people I knew, and

with her deep, brown skin and beautiful, curly hair, she was one of the most beautiful too.

"Please!" I pleaded. "You know that I have a soft spot for fetus Matthew Mcconaughey."

Her face stayed stern, not giving up. "We've watched that movie nearly everyday for the past two

weeks. We might as well call it how to lose a friend in ten days."

I pouted, flashing her my best puppy dog eyes. "I'm just really stressed out about Christopher and this

movie would make me feel better." I batted my eyelashes at her.

"Are you trying to guilt trip me?" She accused, raising one of her eyebrows.

"Is it working?"

She huffed, placing her hands on her hips, before finally conceding. "This is the last time," she warned,

putting it on the TV.

"Thank you!" I did a little dance on her bed, until her death glare stopped me in my tracks.

"You know you love me," I teased, drawing out the O in love. She stared at me grumpily, her death

glare still unaffected.

"Yea, yea," she mumbled under her breath.

After ten minutes of watching the movie, I turned to Sam, unable to focus with the Christopher situation

on my mind.

"I'm telling you Sam, he was a total asshole. I don't think that he will ever budge, so I'm practically

screwed." I shoved my spoon back into my Ben and Jerry's pint, trying to shovel as much ice cream

into my mouth as I could.

"Seriously Sam," I whined. "What should I do!"

Her face contorted in concentration, as I could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

"Why was he even in the studio anyway?"

"Some school requirement or something." I replied, licking my spoon clean and throwing my empty pint

into her trash basket. "I think that he needed to fill his fine arts requirement."

Her eyes lit up as she shot up from her laying position, now sitting crisscross in front of me.

"What!" I asked. "What is it?"

"I remember my friend saying that she had music class with him this year, and he always ditched the

class to make out with Melanie Stuart in his car!"

"And...?" I asked, still wondering how Christopher's love life had anything to do with me.

"So," Sam said, rolling her eyes. Apparently, it was supposed to be obvious to connect the dots. "He

failed music class, and therefore didn't get the needed fine arts credit for his sophomore year. If he

doesn't pass this class, then he doesn't have all of his credits and can't play football."

My eyes grew wide as I finally understood what she meant.

"So, he needs to do the showcase just as much as I do!" She nodded her head in agreement as we

both got up and jumped on the bed. Maybe Julliard wasn't so out of reach.

There was just one issue: Finding a way to reach him so that I could convince him one more time.

But that could wait. For now, I laid back down onto Sam's bed and snuggled deeper into her blankets.

Enjoying not only the movie, but my renewed sense of hope.