Skye's the Limit

Chapter 2
I'm Just A Soul Whose Intentions Are Good

"All right, it’s just about quitting time, so let’s call it a day, all right?" I clapped my hands a couple times, happy for having gotten through that sentence without making it rhyme, as it usually ended up doing, much to my chagrin. I might be teaching a bunch of kids, but I had no desire to do so while sounding like a Dr. Seuss character. Also, I’m not fond of hats. Mess up my hair.

Truth be told, as much as I hated to admit it, I was feeling a bit proud of the little brats as they filed past me, clad in their leotards and tights, little tie-on skirts fluttering. There were a couple who were getting pretty good, or at least in the range of not-bad that would lead to them being upgraded to a different class. And they’d all managed to keep their little panties dry the whole hour, for once.

At least as far as I knew. I couldn’t help but snicker as one walked by, the slight bulge of a diaper pretty evident around her bottom. She looked up at me with a hurt expression, which I countered by pretending not to know what her problem was. Seriously, she was probably at least five or six, maybe older - I never have any clue how old children actually are. And it wasn’t like she was the only one who had problems, nor was she the oldest in the class. Admittedly, the older ones, some almost teenagers, were, as a whole, much better at getting to the bathroom on time. They also tended to be fairly geeky and awkward, and probably would have rather been reading at home than with me.

I can’t say my feelings were hurt by that thought, considering I would also have rather been at home. But I got to take my own classes for free by teaching them, and I made a little spending money as well. Nothing stunning, but it’s better than flipping burgers or something. So, all in all, not a bad deal. And it gave me a healthy appreciation for the true level of Lela’s insanity, actually choosing to spend almost all of her time around these - literally, in some cases, since she babysat some of my students - loud, disobedient, leaky little beasts.

One of which had not followed the others out, and was, instead, standing in the middle of the room, glancing up expectantly at me. Perfect.

"Miss Skye?" she spoke up after she realized I wasn’t going to do so, as I was busy doing a few final warm-down stretches.

"Yeah?" I tried to avoid actually looking at her, yet that proved more difficult than you might imagine, considering the mirrors lining the walls.

"Umm... Next Monday, I’m going to visit my grandma, and she lives way over in Springfield, so I might be late." Finally, those little green eyes vanished as she ducked her head to stare at her fidgeting foot.

"You know the policy," I sighed. "Either show up on time, or not at all." I guess I might have sounded a little meaner than I needed to, but I didn’t make the rules, they were the dance studio’s. Not that most teachers bothered to enforce them.

"Okay," she said quietly, slinking off with her eyes still downcast. She wasn’t a bad kid, really - in fact, she was always very quiet and polite, and not half bad with the whole dancing thing.

"Megan?" I called as she reached the door.

"It’s Melanie," she corrected me.

"Yeah, okay. You did good today."

She brightened up considerably. "Really?" I nodded, and she was actually smiling when she left.

"That was very touching," Dale clutched at his heart as he came into the room. "Are you two going to be BFFs now? Get those little necklaces, and come up with your own secret codes?" Dale wasn’t the only male instructor at the studio, but he was the only one who I was pretty certain was not gay. He made up for it by being nearly as annoying as he was cute. He was a couple inches shorter than me, despite being in his twenties, which might be why he felt the need to pick on me. Or he might have just been a prick. It’s hard to tell.

"That was the plan," I told him. "Maybe we’ll go see the Barney movie together."

He nodded, furrowing his brow in his own weird little way. I think he thinks it makes him look extra-serious, which is a warning sign that he’s about to attempt to be humorous. "Well, I promise I won’t tell her you’ve already been. Wouldn’t want to ruin that for you."

"You’re a doll." His students were starting to come in and set their stuff down, so I began my own exit. Mom was probably already waiting for me in the car.

His voice followed me as I left, and in my mind I saw him nodding again. "You speak the truth."

I had wasted enough time that, by the time I actually left, all of my students were already gone, and their mothers as well. If this job had taught me anything, it was that parents, even when they weren’t yours, almost always had something to complain about. And everything was always my fault. One mom had even pulled her kid from my class within the first couple weeks. It hadn’t mattered much to me, though I’d been nervous it would get me fired. Luckily, and obviously, it did not, so all was good.

"How did it go?" mom asked when I climbed into the passenger’s seat. She was still all dressed up from work, and she looked quite pretty.

"It was fine," I shrugged, fastening my seat belt so she would start the car.

Being polite, I inquired about her day, knowing that I was inviting a deluge of real estate talk. It was all right - it wasn’t like I had to pay attention to it, and it kept me from having to make any real conversation with her during the trip, leaving me free to devote all my attention to staring blankly out the window.

We were almost home when I saw her, and in my surprise, I couldn’t help but blurt out, "That’s her!"

"Patricia Hartman?" My mother sounded quite confused.

"No, just... umm... someone from school." I settled back down, readjusting my MP3 player’s earbuds, and watched as we passed the long haired girl, reading even as she walked down the sidewalk. I tried to get a glimpse of the cover of the book, see if it was anything I recognized, but, unsurprisingly, it wasn’t. Then again, I didn’t spend much time cruising the stacks at the library, either. Big loss on my part, I’m sure. I couldn’t quite tell what the picture on the cover was meant to be - I thought it was probably one of those books that tried to seem smarter than it really was by pasting some abstract thing on the front and leaving the readers to figure out how, or if, it related to the actual text on their own.

I didn’t really have time to finish listening to even one song before mom pulled into our driveway. I could have walked, and probably should have more often than I did, for the exercise, but mom had offered to bring me home, and I figured, "Why not?"

Mom tossed the keys over the roof of my car. I caught them easily, giving her an uncertain, "Thanks," in return. I wasn’t sure if that was really what I was supposed to say in that situation or not; maybe she should have, seeing as it was her who was borrowing my car, until hers got out of the shop. That seemed like it would be a bit awkward, though.

Even though my nose couldn’t decipher just what it was, a pleasant smell greeted me upon going in the front door, along with my dad’s call of, "Welcome home, honey!"

"Thanks, dear!" I replied, giggling as mom shoved my shoulder lightly. She was a few inches shorter than me, but probably a few pounds heavier.

I tossed my MP3 player onto my bed after going to collect a kiss on the forehead from my dad, who -was- still taller than me, and checking to see what he was making. I still wasn’t positive, but I knew that if he was making it, it would turn out delicious. I kicked off my shoes, started wriggling out of my ballet clothes so I could put on something normal, all the while heading towards my desk to see if my cell phone had finished charging yet.

Except that my cell phone was not where I’d left it. The charger was still plugged in, cord laying stretched across the desktop, but it wasn’t attached to anything. I slipped the leotard back up my arm, kneeling down to look under the desk, then standing back up to look in the drawer.

"Mom!" I yelled, storming back out of my room. Sure, she had been at work since well before I’d left, but there was no way dad would have done this by himself. It had to have been her plan, though what she was expecting to find on there, I had no idea - numbers for drug dealers, maybe? An orgy hotline? It wasn’t like she didn’t already know Keith. He’d eaten at our house a bunch of times, and as far as I knew, she liked him well enough.

"What is it, Skye?" she asked, stepping out of her room, taking off her watch.

"Is there anything you want to ask me?" I asked icily. "Anything you’re wondering about?"

Mom sighed. "Skye, what is it?"

So she wanted to pretend nothing was going on. Fine. "I want my cell phone back," I said, holding my hand out.

She sighed again, turning back towards her room. "I just got home," she reminded me, like I had forgotten somehow, "I didn’t take your phone."

"How do you know it went missing when you were at work?" I inquired suspiciously. "I didn’t say that. Maybe it’s been missing all day!"

"I’m pretty sure if it had been, I’d have heard about it before now." She used her Look on me, and her annoyance actually made me wonder if it really had been dad on his own. "I don’t appreciate being accused of things under my own roof."

"Well, somebody took it," I glowered, crossing my arms. "The battery died on me, so I left it here to charge, and now..." But as I spoke, glancing back towards my desk, I saw something sitting there, connected to the little black cord snaking down to the outlet below.

"And now what?"

I looked back over at her, not quite meeting her eyes. "I, uh... It must have fallen off of my desk or something... Sorry," I managed to mumble before backing away and closing the door. Sure enough, my cell was sitting there, right where I’d left it, as if it had been there all along.

"I must be going crazy," I said to myself, unplugging it and flipping it open. I had a voicemail waiting for me from Keith - nothing too long, just saying he wanted to see me later that night. My eyes darted over to my MP3 player as I listened to it, making sure it was still on my bed. It was.

Even so, I set my phone down on top of my dresser, where I could keep an eye on it while I changed.