“Home sweet home” said Ralph smiling when their huge mansion seen on top of the hill with a breath-taking view of ocean behind it.

“We missed home, right Michy?” asked her mother sweetly.

Michy? Being called like that made Kyra think of herself as a two year old idiot baby. She rolled her eyes but answered : “Yeah”. She glanced the mansion. “I guess i’ll get used to live here for sometime.” She thought. Then again, she remembered how much the guys, especially Brian and Nick loved the ocean. But she couldn’t find time to sadden, since already the steward had opened up the door and been waiting for her to come out of the limo. Once she stepped inside the old English style mansion, the whole house; furnitures, antiques, chandeliers, curtains and everything else mesmerized her and she even forgot about her brothers.

“Wow...” she said under her breath.

“Steward must have taken your bags upstairs. First unpack dear, then come down to dinner.” Directed her mother. Now, was she directed? A thing she wasn’t used to. She was raised as an independent child, nobody ever told her what to do, when to do, how to do. Of course she had to follow some rules inside and outside but that was all. She growled and stomped up the white marble stairs. Walking down the large aisle, walls full of several paintings of famous painters, she opened every room’s door one by one until she found hers. Comparing to her room back in Orlando, though she hadn’t stayed there too much, this one was two times bigger. There was a queen size bed with three big windows behind it. Infront of the bay window, there was a big burgundy couch with a stereo system nearby. There was a cute little fireplace in one wall, and a big tiger pelt laying on the ground, a leather burgundy armchair beside it and a big built in library. In opposite corner, there was a big oak desk with lots of notebooks, books and other stuff was placed fastidiously. More than a teenage girl’s room, it looked like a museum. Nothing seemed to be touched for quite a long time. “I have to work hard to get this room in order.” She thought. “More girlish, more lively.” Revealing a deep breath, she walked over to her suitcases and began unpacking, as she was “told”. Though she had decided not to stay here so long, her heart was telling it the opposite.

After a good two hours of unpacking, she took a long bath in her own bathroom and then found something to wear. Michelle and her taste didn’t really match, but thinking Michelle with her baggy jeans and t-shirts, made her burst into laughter. Kyra could easily got used to these clothes but it was obvous that Michelle was going to have a hard time. Kyra dressed into a white tank top, jeans and trainers. She put her wet dark blonde hair in a tight bun with some streaks framing her face. She went downstairs in hopes to find the dinig room easily. She followed a young maid who was carrying a dish and with found herself in the dining room., and took her place between her mother and father.

“Why didn’t you dry your hair?” asked her mother.

“Does it matter?” she replied raising her eyebrows.

“Michelle, i don’t like your attitude today. Behave.” Said her father with anger in his voice.

“What did i say now?” growled she.

“How’s ballet going on?” asked her mother hurriedly, to avoid her daughter and her husband from fighting.

“What ballet?”

“The new one you and your friends were thinking to show on stage at the end of the year...”

“I don’t do any ballet.” Kyra answered simply.

“You were the head ballerina-”

“Not anymore.”

Her father put his fork and knife down in frustration and cleaned his mouth with a napkin. Resting his elbows on the table and clutching his hands, he spoke:

“What’s wrong with you today Michelle?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me...I just decided to leave the play cuz i don’t like ballet anymore.” She spoke numbly.

“Oh my god, Michelle you can’t do this! You’re involved with ballet since you are three.”

“But not anymore.” It was plain and simple, Kyra wouldn’t change her mind. If she was forced to live here, then those people’d learn to live with her. With her own rules and decisions. And ballet was definitely not her decision. She noticed the look her father sent to her, but she didn’t care very much. He continued eating his meal, while her mother kept trying to persuade her.

“Mom, enough.” She said snidely. “I don’t wanna hear anymore words about ballet.”

Her father put his fork and knife again and pointed the door.

“Go up to your room, this is enough for tonight. I’ll have a word with you later young lady.”

“Whatever.” Kyra snapped and left the room, running up the stairs.