Bring It On (11 page)

And then Emerson's parents would strap her into a pair of toe shoes and she'd never, ever get to do hip-hop again.

“You aren't getting sick, are you?” Emerson's mother asked, pressing her hand against Emerson's forehead.

“No. No, I'm fine,” Emerson said quickly. “Why?”

“You just looked pale to me is all,” her mother answered. “Our guests should be coming soon. We should be downstairs to greet them.”

Emerson's phone rang. Her mother nodded, giving Emerson permission to answer it.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay after the ruckus,” a voice began after Emerson said “hello.”

“Sophie?”

“Of course. So are you okay?” Sophie asked.

Emerson glanced at her mother. Her mom was looking through Emerson's jewelry box, probably searching for the most appropriate necklace. “So you heard about Devane . . . not coming to class anymore?”

“What?” Sophie exploded. “No! Tell!”

“She said she was out. And it was my fault.” Emerson shot another look at her mom. She didn't seem to be listening.

“I need a lot of details,” Sophie said.

“I can't right now. My parents are giving a dinner party, and I need to be there,” Emerson answered.

“Okay, second reason I called. My own loving parents want to take me and my sister out to celebrate the show and—well, I'll fill you in on the other part later. I want you to come with us. Movies tomorrow. We can pick you up.”

“One sec.” Emerson put down the phone. “Mom, one of my friends from, um, dance wants to know if I can go out to the movies with her and her family tomorrow.”

“Which girl?” her mother asked.

“You don't know her. She's new,” Emerson said. “Her name's Sophie Qian. Her parents will pick me up.”

“Sounds fine.” Her mother held up a simple gold chain. “Wear this. It will be perfect with this dress. And don't be long.”

“Okay,” Emerson said as her mom left the room. She picked up the phone. “Sorry I made you wait. My mom says I can go.”

“Yay! Let me write down your address.”

Emerson rattled off the address, hearing the doorbell ring downstairs. “I have to go let my parents show me off to their friends.”

“Fine, but you're telling me every single word Devane said tomorrow. We'll pick you up at one.” Sophie hung up without saying goodbye.

Emerson smiled. She felt like it was the first time she'd smiled in about a week. Then she sucked in a deep breath and headed out of her bedroom and down to the party.

Her stomach started attempting a flare in her belly when she saw Mrs. Hahn in the front hall. Mrs. Hahn, as in the mother of Bailey Hahn. Bailey Hahn, as in one of the girls Emerson had been in ballet with since forever.

Mrs. Hahn was one of those moms who not only went to every recital, but stayed to watch every
class
. So she knew Emerson's secret. At least half of it. She knew Emerson wasn't going to ballet anymore.

“Emmy!” Mrs. Hahn cried. She rushed over and kissed Emerson on the cheek. “It's been too long. Haven't you been feeling well?”

Emerson's mother turned toward them at the question. And Emerson's stomach started trying to do what felt like cross-legged flares. Not that a stomach had legs. But that's still how it felt.

This was it. Emerson's life was going to end right now.

“I thought she looked pale myself,” Emerson's mother said. “But she said she's feeling fine, so fingers crossed.”

The doorbell rang. Emerson's mother started toward it. Emerson's father asked Mrs. Hahn a question about her golf game.

And the crisis was over.

For now.

But how long until all my lies come out?
Emerson thought.

“So Devane said she was out of the group because Gina and Maddy knew you were upset about what she did?” Sophie demanded.

“Yeah.” Emerson flopped down on the padded plastic seat of the bench next to the row of sinks in the movie theater ladies' room. And Emerson wasn't much of a flopper. She was a proper sitter-downer. Sometimes she even crossed her ankles.

Sophie snorted. “That's such bull—baloney. Like Maddy and Gina wouldn't have minded that she changed the choreography if you hadn't gotten upset about it.”

“That's what I told Devane! I told her they'd still be mad even if they hadn't overheard me saying anything to her.” Emerson sighed. “So why do I feel so bad?” She shook her head. “Right after the show, I was furious. But now, when I think of Devane being kicked out of the group, I just feel kind of sick to my stomach.”

“It's because you're way too nice,” Sophie told her. “Or because you're way too stupid. You haven't actually started believing that trash Devane spewed, have you?”

“No. Not really. I just—” Emerson shoved herself off the bench. “You know what? We aren't going to talk about this anymore today. This is supposed to be a celebration of you getting in the Hip Hop Kidz Performance Group and our first show and everything. I'm not going to ruin it talking about Devane.”

“It's also a celebration of Sammi practically getting into the Performance Group,” Sophie reminded her.

“It is pretty amazing that Maddy asked her to sit in on the Performance Group class when Sammi's only been taking the basic class for about a week,” Emerson said.

“Amazing. Yeah. That's our Sammi. She does eight amazing things before breakfast.” Sophie rested her head against the cool plaster wall. “Wow, that came out bitter, didn't it?”

Emerson shrugged. Which in polite Emerson-speak meant, “Yeah, it came out really bitter, Soph.”

“You want to know a secret?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah. I do. I really do,” Emerson said. “You know mine already. You know my parents have no clue I'm even in the Performance Group.”

“Okay. I'm going to sound like a troll person, but I'm jealous of my sister. There it is. It's out there. A big puddle of stink. See, Sammi's good at everything. She's a cheerleader, but she's not just a cheerleader—she's head cheerleader. She's a great student, but she's not just a great student—she's on the honor roll. Fill in about fifty more examples and you've got my older sister.”

Emerson nodded. “Sounds kind of hard to live with. I don't have any brothers or sisters. All I have to compare myself to is the perfect Emerson my parents think I could be if I tried a little harder,” Emerson said. “The one who speaks French like a Parisian. And who definitely doesn't do hip-hop.”

“I deal with most of the Sammi stuff okay,” Sophie said. “I'm proud of her, even. And most of the time she's my best friend. But I just really, really wish she hadn't decided to make Hip Hop Kidz one of her things, you know?” Sophie concluded. “It's totally selfish, but I wanted it to be just mine.”

“It's not so selfish to want one thing of your own,” Emerson said. “I want it, too. I want it so much, I don't care how my parents feel. I don't care that I have to lie to them pretty much every day.”

The door swung open and Sammi poked her head into the bathroom. “Come on, you guys, the movie's about to start! You're missing the celebration!”

“We'll be right there,” Sophie said. She looked over at Emerson. “Can I get a woo-hoo?”

Emerson pumped her fist in the air and slapped a big grin on her face. “Woo-hoo!”

Sophie had always thought her sister was her best friend. But she was starting to realize that wasn't true anymore. Emerson was the person she wanted to tell her secrets to and complain to and just have fun with.

“Do you think Maddy will make an announcement about Devane before class or what?” Emerson asked Sophie as they sat in the locker room before class.

“She'll have to say something,” Sophie answered. “She can't just—”

The door swung open, and Sophie stopped speaking.

“Talking about Devane?” Chloe asked, dropping her gym bag on the bench across from them.

“Do you have radical bat ears or what?” Sophie asked.

“I don't think bats have better hearing than people. They do that echolocation thing. But that's different,” Chloe answered. She started taking earrings out of the multiple piercings in her right ear. “I just figured you were talking about Devane because you looked so hush-hush.”

“What have you heard?” Emerson asked, her face wrinkled up in a worried expression.

Poor Em,
Sophie thought.
She clearly still has that sick feeling she told me about over the weekend.

“That she got probation because she was such a complete diva at the show,” Chloe answered.

“Probation?” The word came out of Emerson's mouth in a squeak.

“Wait! Probation!” Sophie echoed. “I heard she was out.”

“She is. Devane supposedly got all huffy about the punishment and quit. M.J.'s about to explode,” Chloe told her.

“Well, that was pretty dumb of her. She should have just taken the probation,” Sophie said.

Chloe shook her head. “That's not why M.J. was mad. He didn't think Devane deserved probation in the first place.”

Emerson made a small adjustment to one of her socks. “Do you?”

Sophie wanted to hear this. She couldn't believe even one person in the group was okay with what Devane had done. But maybe M.J. just thought probation was too harsh.

Chloe shrugged. “Gina is all about respect and rules. And what Devane did—that was like smacking her in the face. You don't just trash Gina's choreography without a world of pain coming down on you. That's almost like breaking all the rules at once.” Chloe started de-earringing the other ear. “I mean, why am I sitting here pulling all this stuff out of my ears? Because Gina says only one pair at a time in class.”

“I'm still freaking. It might not look like I'm freaking. But I'm freaking,” Sophie said. “So Devane just basically told Maddy and Gina to shove it?”
Leaving a spot open that Sammi might be able to take?
the smelly little troll voice asked.

Chloe raised her eyebrows, which seemed to remind her that she had a little gold loop in the right one. “You sound surprised. Devane isn't exactly the kind of girl who thinks she should be told what to do,” she said as she pulled the loop free. “Be back in a minute. I have to take a whiz.” She covered her mouth and smiled through her fingers at Emerson. “I mean, use the facilities.”

“Does everyone think I'm a complete priss or something?” Emerson cried when Chloe had disappeared into the bathroom. “Like they can't even say ‘whiz' in front of me or I'll have a conniption?” She threw up her hands in exasperation.

“Jeez, calm down. I think you might actually have raised your voice,” Sophie said.

“See, even you think it,” Emerson accused.

“You want me to say ‘whiz' in front of you? I'll say it instead of 'hi' from now on,” Sophie promised.

Emerson let out a sigh that sounded like it came from the bottom of her feet. “No, it's just . . .” She took another look around the locker room. They were still alone. “Do you think everyone thinks I'm a total rule-follower? They all heard me yell at Devane for changing the choreography and cutting in on my solo. What if they think like Devane? What if they think Gina and Maddy only put Devane on probation because I made a fuss because I'm such a priss?” Emerson rubbed her face with her fingers.

“You're not a priss because you got on Devane for shoving herself into your solo. Pretty much anyone in the group would have wanted to kick her tail for that. I would have for sure,” Sophie told her. “Devane just wants someone to blame for what happened. You saved her bacon out there. She should have been kissing your feet after the show. Each and every little piggy,” she added, trying to make Emerson laugh. It didn't work. “Just because covering for her onstage wasn't enough to keep her from getting probation—that's not your fault.” Sophie hoped some of this was sinking into Emerson's noggin. “And it's definitely not your fault that the Diva had a temper tantrum and quit.”