Dance Team (4 page)

Amelia leaned in closer to me. “Or remember that ice skater from years ago? The one who cut her competitor's leg so she couldn't skate? Maybe you could invite Leah to go to the rink with you, practice turns and leaps, and accidentally graze her. Just enough for a few stitches—and no regionals.”

I looked around the booth. Everyone was watching me expectantly. I felt sick to my stomach. They wanted me to hurt Leah? These were the friendly girls who made me feel so welcome?

I didn't want to lose that feeling of belonging. I needed friends, needed to feel as if I fit in at Southside. But could I really do something so evil to Leah? After all, she was my friend too. But then I recalled our conversation at the mall. We were friends outside of regionals, sure. But during the competition, we'd put that on hold. I looked down at my plate of food, unable to answer.

“Never mind, Izzy,” Camilla said soothingly. “I don't want you to do anything you don't want to. Leah's your friend. She's probably been helping you get ready for competition. I figure she's the one who's been coaching you on your pirouettes. You probably feel as loyal to her as she does to you.”

I felt my cheeks burning. Leah hadn't been coaching me. In fact, she pretty much refused to help me when I out and out asked her. Instead, she said she was going to do her best to kick my butt. Maybe she wasn't the friend I wanted her to be?

Camilla patted my hand. “It really is okay, Izzy,” she said. “We can beat Northside even with Leah Velasco performing. Now, your pancakes are getting cold—eat!”

She turned the conversation back to dance team and school gossip. I picked at my soggy food, less eager to talk than I had been before.

I

couldn't help worrying about what Camilla and the other girls had said about Leah. But as the week went by, I relaxed a little. Camilla didn't mention Leah to me again. She seemed totally focused on improving our own team's performance.

Anyway, I had plenty to think about with school, my own dancing and, more recently, Joel. We started having lunch and walking to classes together. And since there wasn't a home basketball game on Saturday, we went with Olivia and Eli to see a movie and grab some pizza. Thinking about a cute guy who was close to being my boyfriend helped distract me from worring so much about Camilla.

Joel teased me as we stepped out of the theater. “Earth to Izzy. Was the movie that good?”

I flushed. The movie had been good, but that wasn't what I was thinking about. At least, not exactly. The movie was about two friends who grew apart, then came together again when one of them got sick. Instead of taking my mind off my problems with Leah and Camilla, the film just made me think about them more. My life seemed to have become much more complicated since I made dance team at Southside. And complicated did not equal fun.

I looked at Joel, who had a puzzled expression. I didn't want to spoil this evening, and I tried to shake myself out of my funk. “I'm just deciding what kind of pizza I want,” I said with a laugh.

“I like a girl who's always thinking about her stomach,” Joel said. He took my hand and squeezed it—and then didn't let go.

The warm pressure of Joel's hand made me forget about Camilla. A date with a cute boy was a lot more fun than thinking about sabotaging Northside's dance team!

– – – – –

The fun lasted until Monday morning. When we got to school for our early-morning practice, we were stopped cold. One whole side of the gym was covered with graffiti. Really mean graffiti, and it was all about the dance team. Each of us was mentioned by name, and the things we were called made me blush.

“Northside rocks—Southside sucks,” Olivia read, as we stood there gaping. It was the cleanest thing written.

By noon, the whole school was talking about the graffiti. Rumors flew, and most of them were about how Leah Velasco was responsible.

“They found her student ID card behind the gym,” Ana said. “And I heard people at Northside found paint and receipts from Home Depot in her locker!”

“She's going to be disqualified from regionals,” Jaci said smugly. “Disfiguring public property and unsportsmanlike behavior. She'll probably get kicked off the dance team. Maybe even suspended from school.”

I couldn't believe it. Leah would never do anything like that! Or would she? Was she just bluffing with all her talk about how Northside was the stronger team? Did Leah really think Southside was too much of a threat?

I thought about what she'd said at the mall:
Southside has a good team. With time and practice and your kind of determination, there's no reason you can't win …

Could Leah be capable of trashing the Southside gym?
I wondered.

Principal Nuñez and Ms. Geiger both showed up at our after-school practice. They looked grim.

Mrs. Nuñez got right to the point. “As you know, we had an act of vandalism over the weekend. Someone defaced the gym with some pretty nasty graffiti about the dance team.”

“I know rumors have been flying,” Ms. Geiger added. “The general understanding seems to be that Northside is responsible, and specifically their dance team captain, Leah Velasco. It's true that Leah's student ID was found near the gym. It's also true that a can of paint and some receipts were found in her locker.”

“What isn't true is that Leah had anything to do with the graffiti,” Mrs. Nuñez said. “She was in Austin with her family for the entire weekend. We've confirmed this. There's no way she could have been involved.”

Ms. Geiger looked even grimmer than before. “Which means the ID card and paint were planted to make Leah look guilty. That sounds like someone at Southside is responsible.”

A moment of uncomfortable silence followed her words. Camilla didn't look at anyone.

“I would hate to think that any of our students could sink this low,” Mrs. Nuñez said sternly. “This is an ugly, ugly act, and we're going to do our best to get to the bottom of it. To this end, I would like anyone who knows anything—
anything
—about this to come to me or Ms. Geiger. Whatever you say will be kept confidential.”

There was another uncomfortable pause.

“All right,” Ms. Geiger said with a sigh. “You know where to find us. Now get on with your practice. We all want to win regionals—but we'll win cleanly or not at all!”

F

or the rest of the week, things were tense at school. Nobody had been able to prove anything about the graffiti incident. I couldn't help suspecting Camilla, Jaci, and Amelia, but I didn't say anything. How could I? I didn't have any proof, just the memory of a conversation in a booth at Pancake Corral. A conversation that didn't include anything about graffiti.

Leah was furious. She called me practically the minute school was out on Monday. “What the hell is going on at that school of yours?” she asked.

“I don't know!” I said. “It's awful!”

We talked for a while, but I don't know what I could have said to fix things. Somebody at my school had done a horrible thing to Leah. She was mad. She had a right to be.

On Saturday night we had another basketball halftime performance. I don't know if it was the graffiti, but we weren't at the top of our game. Cate—who never messes up—fell during her jazz layout, and that tripped up Jaci and Amelia. The two of them were so mad at Cate that they came in late with their wing approaches, and all three girls missed their double syncopated pull-back. By then we were all out of sync with the music, and we never really got our timing back. As for my triple pirouettes—well, the less said, the better.

After halftime show ended, I could see Camilla was furious.

“This better
never
happen again,” she spat as she shoved that night's outfit into her sports bag. “I'll see you all at Monday practice. 6:45
A.M.
sharp, and
no
tardies or absences!” She stormed out of the gym, not waiting around to watch the basketball team play, which she always insists that we do.

The game was a heart-stopper. Olivia and I sat near the band. For most of the last quarter, we were on our feet. The lead went back and forth between Southside and Eastlake. Southside's cheerleaders did their best, and Olivia and I cheered our hardest. With seconds remaining on the clock, Southside was ahead two points.

“We've got it!” Olivia screamed as she clutched me. We watched our center take control of the ball, sprint down the court—and trip.

Nobody pushed him. It wasn't a foul. It was just awful, terrible luck. He caught himself and lurched upright, but by then he'd lost control of the ball. An Eastlake point guard was there to grab it, pivot, and shoot a three-pointer just as the buzzer went off. The game ended with Southside losing 77–76.

Joel, Eli, Olivia, and I were quiet when we went out for pizza afterwards.

“Well, that was a heartbreaker of a game,” Joel said glumly.

“And we stank in our halftime show,” Olivia said.

“Oh, you weren't so bad,” Eli said. “There was just that little mix-up when Cate fell.”

“It was a lot more than that,” Olivia replied. “Camilla's out for blood.”

“She's pretty intense,” Joel said. “We're neighbors, and I've seen her practicing. She really wants this dance team thing to succeed.”

I sighed. Didn't we all want the dance team to succeed? The difference was in what steps we were willing to take to make it happen.

A

fter pizza, everyone decided to make it an early night. The fact that Joel gave me a for-real good-night kiss helped boost my spirits, but I wished I'd been in a better mood to appreciate it.

It's just as well I was rested on Sunday. Mom had invited Leah and her parents over for a backyard barbecue. I'd need all my energy to face Leah. The plans had been made before the graffiti incident, but Mom and Dad were especially keen on having the Velascos over after all the trouble.

“I can't believe anyone would do something so mean!” Mom sputtered when she first heard. “Dance team is supposed to be fun. If the competitions can't be about skill and challenge, what's the point? Winning by cheating isn't winning at all!”

Leah got right to the point when she and her family arrived. She gave my mom and dad a quick hug, then grabbed my arm and steered me to the backyard.

“Well?” she demanded. “Have you found out who did that graffiti yet? And how did they get my ID or my locker combination? You'd better tell me everything you know, Izzy!”

I couldn't blame Leah for still being mad about the graffiti. But I resented her thinking that I might have had anything to do with it.

“I don't know anything!” I said. “I told you, I was as shocked as anyone when I got to school on Monday. We were all surprised!”

I felt a little guilty when I added that last part. Somebody wasn't surprised. And I felt even guiltier when I thought that I might know who that somebody was

Leah didn't look convinced. “Oh, come on, Izzy. People talk. You must have heard something by now. Or are you just trying to protect your precious dance team?”