Out of Bounds (8 page)

K
iki Underwood, who had already designated herself star of the seventh-grade talent show, was using the gym to practice her dance routine. The BSG watched as she hipped and hopped and gyrated her body, doing a pretty good imitation of a rock star. Kiki's costume was so tight that Avery winced every time she made a major move. Split spandex was not something Avery wanted to see. Neither apparently did Dillon, whom Kiki seemed most anxious to impress. Dillon's cheeks were flushing as he tried to handle Kiki's demands for more lighting.

“You know, I have to hand it to Kiki. Six weeks of hip-hop lessons and she's got kind of a cool dance going,” Maeve said.

Charlotte added, “Yeah, she looks pretty good, but who would want to dance with her? Look what she's doing to Anna and Joline.”

Anna and Joline were behind Kiki, trying to mimic her moves. Just when they were starting to catch on, Kiki altered her steps. Anna and Joline had a hard time keeping up with her, and Kiki was getting annoyed with them.

“They're even mean to each other,” Katani said, shaking her head.

“You know, I'd rather go to a museum every night with my mother than hang out with those girls. It would take up too much energy trying to figure out what they were up to all the time,” Avery decided as she popped some trail mix into her mouth.

Avery hardly ever ate candy—she said it made her tired, something that none of the other Beacon Street Girls could understand at all. Maeve loved chocolate and Swedish Fish with a passion, Katani was partial to Twizzlers, and Isabel loved caramels. They loved to tease Avery for eating whole-wheat wraps with avocado, tomatoes, and turkey. But, in fact, ever since they saw a picture of the amount of fat in a fast food meal, the girls secretly admired Avery for being such a healthy eater. It's just that they personally weren't ready to give up their candy!!!

Suddenly, Maeve looked around. “Hey,” she asked. “Where's Isabel? I hope she's not late. I heard they give you late slips and it goes on your record; and you get labeled a slacker.” Maeve looked very proud of herself for that pronouncement. The problem was that none of it was true.

“Maeve,” Katani jumped in. “All that happens is that if you get three late slips in a month, they call your parents to help you get more organized.”

“Oh, okay.” Maeve sighed. Too bad. She did like a drama.

“Anyway, where is Isabel?” Charlotte asked.

“Remember, she told us her mother was seeing a new doctor, and the whole family wanted to be there,” Avery reminded them. “It must be hard to have a mom with multiple sclerosis,” she added.

“Oops, here comes Mr. McCarthy, beloved coach of my superstar sisters.”

Katani's sisters were famous at Abigail Adams. They were two of the best athletes the school had ever had, and they never let Katani forget it.

On Wednesdays, the whole seventh grade had gym together first period. Kiki had snuck in to use the gym before school started.

As soon as the gym teacher came in, Kiki stopped the routine and sat down. Although the class was coed, Mr. McCarthy liked to have the boys sit on one side of the gym and the girls on the other. That was the way they did it in the last school he taught in, and that was the way he wanted it done here. Nobody really cared, except for Avery, who said it was sexist.

Kiki took a seat, wiping her forehead with a towel. Anna and Joline sat down next to her, copying her every move. “We're looking for another backup dancer,” she said to Maeve. “You interested?”

“Sorry, I'm already booked,” Maeve said.

“With what?
Fame?
” Kiki snickered. “That's like so out of date.”

“Maybe, but I like it. It's fun,” Maeve responded, brushing off Kiki's put-down. The one thing Maeve was confident about was her ability to perform. So she wasn't even bothered by Kiki's comments. They were like annoying little mosquitoes buzzing around her head that just needed a bit of swatting. Now math—that was a whole other thing. Maeve dreaded being called to the board to do a problem. That was pure agony as far as she was concerned.

“Maeve's also in the magic show,” Katani said.

“Oh, right, the magic show. Lame and lamer,” Kiki spat.

“Our number is going to be the show stopper,” Joline boasted.

“Think VH1 meets Cirque du Soleil,” Anna offered.

“What, you're doing a circus act?” Avery asked.

“More like a rock video,” Kiki said. “Multimedia, film, music, computer animation—the works.”

“Kiki's father produces music videos,” Anna bragged.

Kiki looked as if she'd gotten all of her fashion sense from watching rock videos, Katani thought. But she didn't say it. Her personal rule was that she really tried not to make fun of anyone else's style. She read about this fashion designer once who loved to walk the streets of New York, looking at regular people and their clothes. She said it was very inspiring. The designer had said, “I mean, what if someone had criticized sweatpants the first time they saw them—where would we all be?” Life without sweatpants was too grim even to imagine. Nope, you better keep an open mind when it came to fashion, Katani reasoned. Even for the Kikis of the world.

And then Kiki looked over at Katani. “I would have invited you to join, Katani, 'cause you are so good at sewing and everything, but everyone knows you can't dance…”

The BSG glared at Kiki. She had gone too far. Katani was sensitive about the fact that she wasn't coordinated. Just as Avery, rescuer of all underdogs, was about to jump to Katani's defense, Kiki quickly changed the subject. “My father has a lighting designer flying in from the coast,” she said.

“No one's gonna touch this act,” Joline said. “We might even have Paula Abdul help us.”

“Might,” Kiki said. It was true that Kiki's dad had worked with her once, but he hadn't promised anything. The truth was they hadn't even talked about it. Not yet.

“You could be missing a big opportunity,” Kiki said to Maeve.

“Big,” echoed Anna.

“Totally big,” chimed Joline.

“Sorry,” Maeve said, not sounding for one minute as if she meant it. “I'm busy that night…”

“Too bad,” Kiki said. “Your friend Dillon seems to be available.”

“What?” Maeve didn't see that one coming.

“Dillon's gonna dance hip-hop?” Avery laughed at the thought.

“Dillon wants to work as a techie. He's going to be my best boy.”

“Your what?” Charlotte sounded shocked.

“It's like a technical term,” Maeve said to Charlotte. “A best boy works on the electronics and stuff.”

Kiki smiled. She waved at Dillon across the gym where he was sitting on the benches. He looked totally uncomfortable with Kiki's blatant attention. Kiki didn't seem to get it that seventh-grade boys weren't ready for major flirting. Most twelve-year-old boys were still giving each other noogies and playing wrestling games on the playground.

“Too bad you couldn't join us,” Kiki said to Maeve. “We're all meeting at my house this afternoon to discuss our rehearsal schedule.”

Maeve realized from her tone that Kiki had been setting her up. Kiki knew all along that Maeve was in two numbers. She'd seen the sign-up sheet.

Kiki popped up from the bench to get some water at the fountain. Anna and Joline followed.

“I thought of a new trick I want you to do in the magic show,” Maeve said, as if nothing unusual had just happened.

“What trick?” Charlotte asked.

“I want you to make Kiki Underwood disappear.”

“Funny, Maeve, very funny.”

P
AST
, P
RESENT
, F
UTURE

Isabel didn't get to school until after lunch was over. When the other girls arrived at art class, Isabel was already there, talking to the instructor. They were discussing Isabel's art project for the month. Displayed on the wall was Isabel's art. With her teacher's guidance, Isabel had created a multimedia collage in three pieces entitled:
Past, Present, and Future
. It was pretty amazing and
very big
. It had three distinct panels that fit together—a triptych, her teacher called it. Isabel had worked for weeks on it and her teacher wanted to enter it in an art contest that a bank in Boston ran every year for junior high and high school students.

Isabel's work was part painting, part collage. The first piece, the one entitled
Past
, looked like a child painted it, but better. There were images of Michigan, where Isabel was born, and of Mexico City, where her grandparents still lived in the old family house. There were photos of the family eating tamales in the Mercado de Comida, and others of her little cousins, Pedrito and Miguel Angel. In the lower right corner, a tiny ballerina, Isabel, danced her part in a local production of
The Nutcracker
. Little Isabel danced as her father looked on.

The second painting, entitled
Present
, featured a stage on which a ballerina was sitting down with the other ballerinas around her. Off to the side were a pair of crutches and a caption that said:
Dance cancelled…for now…

To the far right of the center painting, a happy Isabel emerged into a different kind of ballet, a water ballet.

The girls knew the story by heart. Isabel had been a serious ballet student, but she had damaged the cartilage in her knee. It would have taken mega surgery before Isabel could dance again, and the doctor said her knee would always be at risk for more damage. So Isabel had to give up on ballet.

She was depressed about losing ballet for a long time. But one day, her mother took her aside and said to her, “Isabel, no more moping. When one door closes, another opens…So keep your eyes open, sweetheart…some little bird will fly in and tell you what to do next.”

And something did happen. One day her mother and sister took her to see some paintings of the artist Frida Kahlo in Mexico. Isabel could not believe her eyes. Such color, such images. Isabel had never seen paintings like that. They were so alive and colorful…and a little ugly, too.

For some reason Frida's paintings appealed to Isabel. Maybe, thought Isabel, it was because the paintings reminded her of the world…sometimes beautiful and filled with color and sometimes darn-right ugly…like the nasty power plant a couple of miles from their house back in Michigan. Anyway, she had begged her mother to buy her some paints that day. And now Isabel was never far from her brushes.

She also discovered swimming at the local YMCA. She hadn't wanted to go, but there was a swimming class that Elena Maria wanted to go to because one of the instructors was so cute. She dragged Isabel along with her. Isabel loved floating in the water and kicking her legs. There was no pain, and she felt like she could swim for miles. One day, while Isabel was waiting for her lesson, she sat watching the synchronized swim team. Isabel was hooked—it was ballet in the water. Synchronized swimming seemed perfect. Isabel wanted the painting to reflect that.

The third portion of Isabel's triptych was all about art. Collage, computer graphics, cartoons, Isabel loved them all. The Beacon Street Girls stood in front of the third panel, which featured images of Boston. There was a painting of the tower, not the way it was, exactly, but they way they'd always talked about decorating it. And Isabel had created future images of her new best friends: Maeve, Katani, Charlotte, and Avery. In the picture, the girls walked together, arm in arm, toward the doors of Brookline High. They were happy, confident, and very, very cool.

“This is so cool, Isabel,” Charlotte said, as if she were seeing her friend for the first time. “I could never do this.”

“Isabel, I think you might end up in a museum or something,” Katani said, impressed. And then she offered up a big, wide Katani smile, which always made people feel like they'd just won the lottery, because the smile came straight from the heart. “You made me look soooo good; I love that.” Everyone laughed at that, even the teacher.

“Thanks.” Isabel smiled. Inside she felt that this was a really good day for her. Her mother was doing well on her new medication. Her art teacher had picked her painting to display. And, best of all, her father had e-mailed her this morning to say that he really was going to visit them soon when his accounting business slowed down a bit. Since they had come east, Isabel's dad had to run their family business all by himself. He had promised to visit, but he had already booked and canceled the trip twice. His e-mail this morning gave Isabel hope that he would be coming soon…If only she could find a way to make sure it really happened this time.

Isabel really missed her father. Sometimes at night she cried because they weren't all together. But in the morning, how could she “mope” while watching her mother move
slowly and sometimes hesitantly through the house. No, she said to herself. Martinez women did not mope about. They got up and got things done!

 

When Isabel got home from school, Elena Maria was making empanadas (and practicing her scales—thank goodness she was done before Isabel put her coat away) and fire-roasting chilies on the gas burner of the stove. Her sister was a great cook, just like her mother and father. Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table. Even Aunt Lourdes was there. It reminded her of the last time they were in Mexico…the family all together at the Mercado.

Except that her dad should be here too. “Any…” Isabel stopped herself from asking if there had been any word from her father.

“What?” her mother asked.

Isabel thought quickly. “Any…thing I can do to help?”

Elena Maria smiled. “We're all set. You can be on the cleanup crew with Aunt Lourdes.”

Cleanup was just fine with Isabel. Since Elena Maria was the cook, Isabel was willing to help with the dishes. “We have a symbiotic relationship, you and I. I cook, you eat and clean. It works for me,” Elena Maria told her.