Step It Up (2 page)

Rochelle bristled. “Says who? I don't see anyone handing you a crown, Liberty. Unless your rich mommy, the big-time Hollywood choreographer, bought you one?”

Rochelle knew how much Liberty hated when people accused her of being successful because of her mom's connections. The truth was, Liberty worked just as hard as any of the Divas. She had an attitude, but she could dance. Still, it was fun to push her buttons.

Scarlett put her hand on Rochelle's shoulder. “Rock, that's enough,” she said softly. She knew that Liberty loved to brag, but underneath it was a lot of hurt and insecurity—especially when it came to her mother.

Liberty stormed out of the studio. “You guys better go, too,” Scarlett said. “I'll let you know how it goes.” She walked over to Miss Toni, who was busy jotting notes on her clipboard.

“You want to talk to me?” she said nervously.

“Yes, I do.” Toni didn't bother to glance up from her work. “I assume your appearance and your performance today were a one-time scenario?”

“Yes! Absolutely! I'm so sorry! Gracie was just driving me nuts right before I got here. She gave her Barbie my tights and, oh my gosh, my leotard is now a red carpet …”

Toni put down her pen. “Are you and Gracie not getting along?”

“Well, she's kind of a pain,” Scarlett tried to explain. “I mean, she just has no respect for me or my things.”

Toni nodded. “You know how I feel about fighting on my team,” she said firmly. “Anyone who can't get along with her teammates cannot be a Diva.”

Scarlett held her breath.
Here it comes
, she thought. Liberty was right; she was kicking her off the team.

“That said,” Toni continued, “I think I have a solution.” She got up from her stool and went to the corner of the studio where she'd placed a
small cardboard box. She carried it over and placed it at Scarlett's feet.

“I think you and your little sister need something to remind you what it is to be loving and caring. Something you can do together.”

Scarlett had no idea what she was talking about, but she did notice that the box had several large, round holes punched out of its side.

“Go on,” Toni said. “Open it.”

Scarlett knelt down and lifted the lid. Inside was a ball of orange fur. “A kitten!” she exclaimed, scooping it into her arms. It was so small, she could practically fit it in the palm of her hand.

“My neighbor had a litter. I asked your mother, and she said you can have one—as long as you and Gracie promise to take good care of him.”

“Oh, I will! We will!” Scarlett said, stroking the tiny kitten. “He's so sweet! Thank you, Miss Toni!”

“You're welcome.” Toni almost smiled. “Just don't ever come to my class again in mocha tights.”

Scarlett couldn't wait to get home and show the kitten to Gracie.

“Isn't he precious?” she said, scratching him behind the ears.

“You girls have to think of a name for him,” her mother pointed out. “And you have to set up his bed and litter box.”

Scarlett nodded. “I think we should call him Baryshnikov—after the famous ballet dancer.”

Gracie made a gagging sound. “That's a terrible name for a cute little kitty.” She snatched the cat from Scarlett's hands. “We don't like that name
do we?” she asked the cat, cradling him in her arms. “I think we should name you Mr. Mustard.”

“Mustard?” Scarlett exclaimed. “You might as well name him Hot Dog! Or Ketchup!”

“Oooh, I like Kitty Ketchup for a name,” Gracie said. “But I think Mr. Mustard is perfect. He's the color of mustard, don't ya think?”

Scarlett looked to her mother for help. “You're not going to let her name our cat after a condiment, are you?” she pleaded. “It's the stupidest name I've ever heard!”

“I am not stupid!” Gracie piped up. “Your Barfish-no-cough name is just as dumb. Cats can't dance ballet!”

Their mother sighed and took the kitten from Gracie. “Look, if the two of you can't get along and give this cat a loving home, I am giving the cat back to Miss Toni. End of argument.”

Scarlett looked at the tiny kitten. He looked so helpless. How could she let him go? “Fine.” She sighed. “We can call him Mr. Mustard—for now. Until we think of something better.”

“Yay!” Gracie squealed.

Her mother placed the cat back in Scarlett's lap. “I think you've made a wise decision.”

Scarlett glared at her little sister. Why did Gracie always have to win? Just because she was younger didn't give her the right to always get her way.

“Hello, Mr. Mustard,” Gracie cooed. “Who's a pretty kitty?”

The next afternoon at the Dance Divas Studio, Gracie couldn't wait to share the news of their new pet with her teammates. “And we named him Mr. Mustard!” she told Rochelle and Bria in the dressing room.

Rochelle shot Scarlett a look. “
We
named him that?”

“Please,” Scarlett grumped, “don't get me started. I wanted to call him Baryshnikov or Joffrey or Balanchine. But my mom said we had to agree or we couldn't keep him.”

Gracie skipped off to find Miss Toni and give her a report.

“It could be worse,” Bria said, trying to cheer her up. “She could have named him Grey Poupon.”

“It's not funny.” Scarlett sighed. She had just about had it with Gracie acting spoiled and getting away with it. Even Miss Toni gave her special treatment.

When Gracie wobbled on a
pirouette
a few days ago and fell on the floor, Scarlett thought for sure Toni would launch into a lecture about the importance of spotting and balance. Instead, she helped Gracie to her feet and suggested she picture her favorite gymnast, Gabby Douglas, standing in the front of the room. “Look right into Gabby's eyes,” she told her. “Concentrate on that one spot.” It took Gracie about a dozen tries to get it right, and when she did, Miss Toni high-fived her.

“None of us get any sympathy if we fall on our butts,” Scarlett said. “Much less a high five. I don't get it. Why is Gracie always the favorite?”

Rochelle shrugged. “ 'Cause she's younger. The first time my baby brother, Dylan, pooped in his diaper, my mom and dad jumped for joy and told him he was a genius. All he did was poop!”

“Little kids always get more attention—that's just how it is,” Bria added.

“You're a little sister. I don't see you behaving like that and driving your sister up the wall,” Scarlett pointed out.

“That's because my sister
is
a genius—and I don't mean at pooping.” Bria laughed. “I always feel like I have to compete with her. Maybe that's how Gracie feels around you.”

Scarlett thought it over. That might have been the case a few months ago, when she was winning trophies for dance. But now they were both Divas, dancing on the same team, and Gracie was getting better by the day. It had been Scarlett's idea to ask Miss Toni to let Gracie join the team—her tumbling was pretty awesome after all. Had she created a monster?

“What do you always tell me when Liberty is making me nuts?” Rochelle asked her.

Scarlett recalled the last time she had to seriously referee her teammates. Liberty decided that Rochelle's jazz shoes “needed freshening.” So she put them outside on the windowsill during a torrential downpour. When Rochelle found them, they were a soggy mess and the soles were falling off.

“I think I told her she should mind her own shoe business?” Scarlett said. “And I believe I stopped you from sticking her head under the faucet as payback?”

Rochelle nodded. “I still say her face needed freshening … but I saw your point. Two wrongs don't make a right.”

Scarlett nodded. “So you're saying I should forget the whole Mr. Mustard thing and move on?”

Bria pointed to the clock. “We all need to move—five minutes till rehearsal!”

The girls rushed into the studio the next day and began stretching. Gracie squeezed in beside Scarlett at the
barre
. “I told Miss Toni and she loves the name Mr. Mustard,” she whispered. “She said it was really cute and clever.”

Scarlett gritted her teeth and tried to focus on her
cambre back
. Maybe if she ignored Gracie, she'd go away and stop bugging her.

“Okay, time to talk Dance Fusion,” Toni said, taking her place on a tall stool at the front of the room. “This is a big competition in Connecticut, and I want to pull out all the stops.”

“What else is new?” Rochelle muttered under her breath.

“Rochelle and Liberty,” Toni said, “I am putting you two together in a duet.”

Liberty's face went pale. “A duet? With
her
?
Again?
”

“Is there a problem? Because I'm happy to give Rochelle a solo if you're not up for it,” Toni said, warning her.

“Fine,” Liberty grumped. “I'll do it.” She turned to Rochelle. “I'm not about to let you have a solo.”

“It's called ‘Going Bananas,' ” Toni continued. “It's an acro routine and you're going to wear this.” She tossed Rochelle a bright yellow leotard.

“OMG, that is hideous!” Liberty said. “I'll look like a giant highlighter pen!”

“Oh no. That's not your costume,” their coach replied. “This is yours.” She handed Liberty a brown, fuzzy unitard with a long tail attached.

Liberty's face turned bright red. Scarlett
actually thought she saw steam coming out of her ears. “No way! I am not making a fool out of myself in that!”

“What's the matter?” Rochelle taunted her. “Afraid of a little monkey business on the dance floor?”

“This is going to get ugly.” Anya sighed. “I can see it coming.”

“I refuse to wear this—and to dance with that,” Liberty fumed. “I'm gonna tell my mother. She will never stand for it.”

Toni stayed cool as a cucumber. “Then take a seat, Liberty,” she said calmly. “In the corner, on the mat. No one is forcing you to dance on the Divas team.”

She turned back to the class. “Bria and Anya, you're also doing a duet. It's a lyrical routine called ‘Count the Stars,' and I'm going to need your moms to help with the costuming.”

“My mom's totally into it,” Bria volunteered. “She's a whiz at BeDazzling.”

Anya wrinkled her nose. “BeDazzling? I was
thinking more simple and classic like the night sky …”

Toni held up her hand. “Girls, the costumes are the least of my concerns at the moment. We need to block out the group routine today.”

She went to the closet and pulled out a large inflated beach ball. She tossed it to Scarlett. “I call this number ‘By the Beautiful Sea.' You're all going to be 1920s bathing beauties frolicking on the seashore.”

Gracie's hand went up. “Miss Toni, can I be the one in the bathtub?” she asked, hopefully.