Showtime! (5 page)

Bria nodded. “Seriously, she does. She wore them last year when she won the National Junior Solo title.”

“We put a little gold star sticker inside each of them—so we'd always know which ones were the Lucky Stars,” Rochelle added.

“That's ridiculous,” Liberty insisted. “You're going to miss your cue for a stupid pair of ballet shoes?”

“Here, honey.” Scarlett's mom handed her another pair. “Just put these on. You'll be fine.”

Scarlett raced to the wings just as the girl before her was taking her bows. It just didn't feel right without her lucky shoes! But she didn't have a choice. It was these or nothing. She flexed and pointed her toes, trying to will this pair to obey. She couldn't understand why her Lucky Stars had disappeared. She was sure she had tucked them into her dance bag after rehearsal. Maybe they'd fallen out?

“Next, we have a lyrical routine entitled ‘In the Clouds,'” the announcer began.

“Wait! Wait!” Rochelle called. “Scarlett, I found them! They were under a bench in the hallway!”

She tossed the shoes to her friend, and Scarlett slipped them on just as her name was called: “Please welcome Scarlett from Dance Divas!”

Scarlett's heart was pounding as she stepped onto the stage. She felt the spotlight's warm glow as she took her position on the floor. She heard Miss Toni's words echo in her head as she danced
: “Straight legs . . . arms wide . . . head high, and shoulders down!”
She felt like a wave on the beach, ebbing and flowing with the swelling music, until suddenly, something went very wrong.

As Scarlett leaped and landed on the ball of her foot, she felt herself sliding across the stage.

There was a gasp from the audience as she came crashing down on the wood floor. She was facedown on the stage for what seemed like an eternity.

“Get up! Get up!” she heard Rock and Bria calling from the wings. So that's what she did. She pulled herself up and continued dancing from where she left off, struggling to keep with the music. The crowd cheered, but Scarlett could feel her cheeks burning. She was mortified. How could this have happened? She was so humiliated she could barely look the judges in the eye.

After the routine ended, she took a quick bow and raced offstage into her mom's arms. She burst into tears.

“It's okay, honey,” her mom said, trying to comfort her. “Are you hurt?”

Scarlett touched her hip gingerly. It throbbed, and she was sure it was already turning black and blue. But her ego was bruised worse.

“I don't understand.” She sobbed, looking at Rochelle and Bria. “It was going so well, then I just—”

“Wiped out.” Miss Toni finished her sentence. “Let me see your ballet shoes.”

On the bottom of the left slipper was a strange blue stain.

“What is that?” Scarlett sniffled.

Miss Toni rubbed her fingers across the sole. It felt slick and slippery. “If I had to guess, I'd say hair gel.”

“How did hair gel get on your ballet shoe?” Bria asked.

“Maybe someone put it there,” Liberty suddenly
said. “Let's see . . .
Who
was it that found your lucky shoes?” All eyes turned to Rochelle. Liberty pointed a finger in her face. “So much for best friends. Just sayin' . . .”

Rochelle suddenly remembered she had been using gel to do her bun moments before finding the shoes. “Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, Scarlett! I might have had gel on my fingers! I didn't think—I just saw your shoes and tossed them out to you as fast as I could.”

“It was an accident, Rock,” Scarlett assured her. “You didn't mean to. It's okay.”

Miss Toni clapped her hands. “Right now, we have a group number to do, and there'd better be no more mishaps. Clear?” Toni barked. “If there are, someone's head is going to be on the chopping block.”

The competitive team from City Feet was up first in the Junior Small Group category. They marched through the halls backstage, chanting: “Move left! Move right! Move to the beat and make way for City Feet!” They were all dressed in silver sequin leotards and black tights studded with rhinestones.

“Big-time bling,” Rochelle whispered in Scarlett's ear.

“Remember what I told you: game faces,” Miss Toni warned the Divas as the girls marched by. “They can't scare us.”

“Are you sure about that?” said a voice behind
them. It was Justine Chase. Scarlett recognized her from the photo.

“Justine . . . It's been ages,” Toni answered with a forced smile.

“And you certainly look your age, Toni,” Justine shot back. “Aww, is that a frown line I see? You should smile more! Then again, you were always so, so serious!”

Rochelle elbowed Scarlett in the ribs. “This is worse than we thought!” she whispered.

Toni took a deep breath. “And as I recall, you were always so, so sloppy, which I'm sure is still true.”

“I wouldn't be so sure.” Justine grinned. “Why don't you watch and find out?”

Just then, the announcer summoned the City Feet dancers to take their places.

“Pigs and crickets!” Justine called after them.

“Pigs and what?” Bria scratched her head.

“It means good luck.” Toni groaned. “I do not like pigs and crickets—and I do not like Justine Chase.” She went out to the audience to watch the performance unfold.

“Phew.”
Rochelle whistled. “I'm glad she's mad at Justine and not me for a change!”

Scarlett peeked out from behind the curtain to catch a glimpse of Miss Toni. To say she looked angry was putting it mildly. She hadn't seen Toni this furious since Rochelle tossed her ballet shoes in the toilet and flooded the dressing room.

“I think Justine knows how to get under her skin,” Scarlett said. It reminded her a lot of how Gracie knew exactly when and how to push her buttons. To be that good at bugging someone, you truly had to know her inside and out.

“You think they were enemies in ballet school, too?” Rochelle asked. “Maybe Mean Justine was a mean girl back then, too.”

“She may be mean, but she's right. They look pretty fierce,” Liberty said. She motioned to the five City Feet girls onstage. The lead dancer was a tiny girl—no more than Gracie's age—who took her position in a chin stand as the music began to play. She then exploded across the floor, tumbling and leaping in a breathless array of acrobatic moves. Their routine was called
“Hyperactive”—which pretty much described it perfectly. The number ended with a blast of fireworks and a spray of silver confetti on the audience.

“Sick! That is just sick!” Rochelle exclaimed.

“What is that gymnast—like five years old?” Liberty added.

Bria pulled out her phone and searched for City Feet again. “She's seven. Her name is Mandy Hammond . . . and her nickname is ‘the Tiny Terror,'” she read. “She's been the National Petite champion three years in a row. Undefeated.”

“Sick!” was all Rochelle could say again.

Scarlett watched as they dazzled the judges and the crowd. She could see Toni taking it all in from the back row. If she was as impressed as the Divas were, no one would be able to tell. She showed absolutely no emotion—not even when the crowd leaped to their feet in a standing ovation.

“We can't do that. We don't have anyone who can do that,” Bria said, and sighed.

“I can do a better scissor leap!” Liberty insisted.

Rochelle glared. “You're not bad, but this girl has some serious acro moves. She's like an Olympic gymnast or something!”

Olympic gymnast? Scarlett suddenly thought of someone who might also be able to land many of those moves. She scanned the audience and found who she was looking for. There, front and center, was her little sister, Gracie, with their dad and grandparents. She was holding a bouquet of flowers on her lap, which Scarlett guessed were for her. Especially since Gracie was plucking the petals and tossing them on the floor, one by one.

“Gracie could do it,” she said. “She's really good for her age. You should see her cartwheels.”

“Gracie? As in your crazy little sister, Grace Face?” Liberty asked.

“She's not crazy! And if she is, well, you're not her sister, so you can't say that!” Scarlett exclaimed. The floor around Gracie's seat was now covered in red rose petals.

“But she's seven!” Liberty protested.

Bria shoved her phone in Liberty's face. “So is the Tiny Terror.”

“There's no use talking about it now,” Scarlett reminded them. “We're up next.”

“Why bother?” Bria sighed. “They are so much better than we are.”

“Do not let Toni hear you say that,” Scarlett said. “We have to do this for her. We can't let City Feet win.” They all agreed and placed their hands one on top of the other in the center of a huddle.

“One-two-three-four,” chanted Scarlett.

“Dance Divas on the floor!” the other girls joined in.

“Five-six-seven-eight! Who's the team that's really great? DIVAS! DIVAS! Go, DANCE DIVAS!”

Scarlett knew the “Cyberbully” routine wasn't a typical dance-competition number. Her costume was a red beaded leotard and sheer tights splattered in red paint. The other girls wore black leotards with “thorny” branches wrapped around their bare arms. It was risky to say the least; “artsy” is what her mom had called it. But Scarlett could never have predicted the audience's reaction as the girls finished the routine. They carried her across the stage as the message “SIGNING OUT” flashed across the video screen behind them.

There was silence. Complete and utter silence.
When they returned for their bows, the judges were still staring at the stage, dumbstruck.

“This is either really good or really bad,” Scarlett whispered to her teammates.

“That was so cool! Go, Scoot!” came a voice from the front row.
Thank goodness for Gracie!
Scarlett thought. The audience erupted in laughter, and the tension was broken. The crowd applauded enthusiastically, but Scarlett wasn't sure if it was for their dance or for Gracie's review.

Miss Toni waited in the wings, and as usual, her face was impossible to read. Had they messed up? Had they disappointed her? The girls braced themselves for her critique.

“I saw bent legs, girls, and Bria, you were a beat behind everyone else after the
tour jeté
.” She paused. “But overall, good job.” Then she walked back to the audience to wait for the award announcements.

“That's it?” asked Liberty.

“That's it,” Scarlett replied. “It wasn't our best dance, but it wasn't our worst, either.”

“I'd hate to see your worst,” said a small voice from the wings.

“Oh no!” Bria whispered, ducking behind Scarlett. “It's the Tiny Terror!”

“Excuse me?” asked Scarlett. No seven-year-old was going to speak to her team that way.

“Nothing. I'm just saying I thought you guys would be serious competition. Our coach said so, but I guess she was wrong. I thought you were kind of lame.”

“Listen up, pip-squeak,” Liberty began. It was the first time Scarlett was actually glad to have Liberty on their side. “What's
lame
is the circus act you call a dance routine. I hear Ringling Brothers might have a few openings in the clown department.”

Rochelle laughed out loud. “Good one, Lib!”

Mandy pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Oh yeah?” she said.

The Divas stared her down. It was clear she had no comeback, so she stomped away.

“Wow, you sure put her in her place, Liberty,” Scarlett said. “I didn't think you cared about the team.”

“Of course, I do!” Liberty answered. “I mean . . . I guess.”

Rochelle draped her arm around Liberty's shoulder. “I'm deeply touched,” she teased. “Seriously, thanks for putting that little brat in her place. She has a bigger mouth than you.”