Amy Fisher opened her eyes and looked at the clock. 9:57.

"Oh crap!" she cried and rolled out of bed, or at least tried to. Amy fell off and onto the ground in a very ungraceful way for a dancer. But she had three minutes to get to Rockwell's Dance Academy to help open it.

"!" Amy muttered as she got dressed as fast as she could and gathered her things, "Why didn't my alarm go off?"

"Book, phone, papers- crap! Where's my class papers? Okay, okay, good. Pen..." She said to herself as she ran around her already hot apartment. Then she looked out the window, because she could see the door to the dance school from there.

"No! nonononnonononono!" She cried out loud. Maria Johnson was leaning on the door looking at her phone.

Just then, Amy's cell phone buzzed from inside her bag. She fished it out as she ran down the stairs.

MariaJnhsn: Where r u? im outside the studio.

Amy ran across the street, "Hi! I'm here! I'm so sorry! My alarm didn't go off! I'm sorry!"

"No, no, it's fine!"Maria said cheerfully, "I was going to tell you in my next text that Nia called me last night. She said that she wasn't coming in until Noon! So yes! It's just us for the first hour!"

Amy faked a smile as she struggled to unlock the door. Maria's ever present perkiness got on her nerves occasionally.

"Mmmm... Your first class is in a half an hour, right?"

"Yep! I'm gonna go warm up!"

"Your not warm already?" Amy shot back wryly.

"Yeah, I know, right? It's so hot this August!"

Maria half skipped away as Amy settled behind the front desk with her book.

The air outside was chilled, but inside the cabin the sweltering heat was almost too hard to bear. Almost. Vivian looked at Gregory with longing in her eyes.

"Vivian," he whispered, "You are-

The bell above the dance academy's door tinkled, interrupting Amy from her romance novel, and announcing the entrance of a redheaded girl carrying a armful of books. Amy-not only a dancer, but also the secretary of Rockwell's Dance Academy- was annoyed to be taken out of her steamy romance novel's icy scene, especially on such a hot day as this was. Norah Roberts was to blame. Or, more over, Maeiar Johnson was to blame.

"Hi!" Norah said cheerfully, setting her stake of books on the counter, "These are for Maria Johnson. You know her, right? She teaches here."

Amy nodded.

"Oh, okay, good. She wanted me to leave them here if they came in while she was working. Would you please make sure she gets them? Thanks so much!" and with a little wave and a smile, Norah Hawthorne darted out the door and back across the street to the bookstore.

Amy groaned.

A little red haired girl just bounced in and out of the Dance Academy quicker than the water rushing out of a hose, she thought, all in the name of books. How can someone be so perky/happy/bouncy on such a hot August day like this?

Amy glanced down the hall where the studios were located and shook her head. Maria was teaching in studio 3, perky/happy/bouncy music playing loudly.

Then she thought, Then I can hear Maria's music down the hall and am reminded, that's how.

Amy was just about to return to her book when Nia walked in, the bell above the door jingled again. Nia Sorenson was the new owner of Rockwell's Dance Academy. The last owner- the scary, Russian, Miss Amelja Von Grussle- had passed away at the end of last year, with no children she'd left the Academy to her niece, Nia. Nia, thought, was adopted but the only Von Grussle relation that had pressured dance. She, and her husband and young son, had soon after moved to Rockwell to manage the Academy.

"Hi, Nia," Amy said.

"Oh, Hi Amy. Is Emily here?" Nia asked looking for one of the new teachers.

"Yeah, she's in with the pre-ballet class. Studio 1."

As Nia moved away down the hall towards the studios then phone rang.

"Hello? Rockwell's Dance Academy?" Amy answered.

"Is this the Home Depot?" the voice on the end asked.

"No," Amy sighed, "This isn't the Home Depot, you've got the wrong number."

"I'm sure I don't!" the person at the other end hotly returned.

"Yes. You do. This is Rockwell's Dance Academy."

"No, I'm calling the Home Depot."

"Well, this isn't the Home Depot, this is Rockwell's Dance Academy."

"But I'm calling the Home Depot."

"Well, I believe you have the wrong number."

"Noooo, I do not!"

Amy put the phone to her shoulder, "Nia? can you please talk to this lady? She's convinced that we're the Home Depot."
Nia moved in gracefully and picked up the other extension, "Hello? This is the owner of Rockwell's Dance Academy."

Maria bounced in between classes.

"Um, hey, Amy?" She said tilting her head, unintentionally looking cute, "Would you please make me a smoothie? I need it to test out how flat my dancers can get their backs. Thanks!" and she disappeared back into a studio.

Amy went to make the smoothie, but didn't think too hard on what to put in it. Maria never cared. I wonder, thought Amy, blending fruit, if she'd notice if I spiked it...

Just then her stumic growled loudly. Nia, who was still on the phone with the Lady Looking For Home Depot, whispered, "Go get lunch, I'll give that to Maria."

With a sigh, she ducked out of the stuffy dance school and into Cafe Noir next door.

"Hello and welcome to Cafe Noir. How may I help you today?" asked the blonde girl at the counter.

"Umm, I'll just have a sandwich and a juice and a coffee, please?"

"Yeah, I mean yes, or course. It'll be ready in just a minute! um, that will be $7.75"

"Oh, okay, here," Amy dug through her purse looking for her wallet but to no aveil, there was no wallet to be found.

"Oh crap!" Amy said again, "Could I please, please, please run across the street to get my wallet. I left it in my apartment I just live right there. Please?"

"Yeah, sure," the girl at the counter raised an eyebrow, "Whatever."

"Oh my gosh! Thank you!" Amy ran as fast as she could out the door and across the street up to her apartment. Then, after she quickly grabbed her wallet she ran back and paid for her food. taking it she walked back into the dance school and ate it while reading her book.

Gregory lifted her up and slowly placed her- BRIIING!

Amy sighed and shoved her book back into her bag, "Hello? Rockwell's Dance Academy?"

"Is this the Home Depot?"

Amy sighed again, she was in for a long afternoon.