Step It Up (6 page)

“Oh my gosh, Miss Toni!” Scarlett said. “We're sorry.”

“Are you?” Toni said quietly. “I don't think so. I don't think any of you are sorry for your behavior or your actions today. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever invested my heart and time into a team that doesn't care about each other.”

She walked back to the audience to await the awards ceremony. They all knew it wouldn't be good news—there was no way any of their routines would come in first place. The only consolation prize would be if they had somehow managed to beat City Feet.

When it came time to announce the Junior Duets, Anya and Bria gave each other dirty looks, which was nothing compared to what Liberty and Rochelle did to each other. Scarlett had to sit between them just to keep them from pulling each other's hair.

“In fifth place, Dance Divas Studio with ‘Going Bananas,' ” the announcer read. Then he turned to the judges. “Are you sure?”

“You go get it,” Liberty told Rock. “I'm too embarrassed.”

“I will not!” Rochelle refused. “You go get it.”

The judge finally walked over and handed the trophy to Scarlett. “Maybe you should hold on to this?” he said.

The Hippie Chicks took fourth place for their “Zombie Love” duet.

“Seriously?” Bria sighed. “They beat us with body parts falling off of them?”

The announcer took a deep breath before reading the third-place title holder. “I would like to assure the audience that Ms. Goldberg, our
esteemed judge, will be just fine. She'll be wearing an eye patch for a little while, but …”

Anya growled at Bria. “Great job. We blinded a judge!”

“Nonetheless,” the announcer continued, “our third-prize spot goes to ‘Count the Stars,' Dance Divas Studio.” Anya and Bria both stood up and gave each other a shove.

Second place went to two of the Groovy Boyz for their Super Bowl–inspired routine, “Touchdown.” Which left only one team for first …

“Congratulations, ‘Rock and Roll,' City Feet!” the announcer boomed. “What a comeback!”

Mandy bounced up to receive the trophy. Her left arm was in a sling, but she managed to blow kisses with her right one to the judges.

The group titles were just as disappointing. “By the Beautiful Sea” didn't even make the top ten. At least City Feet's Diva diss didn't win first place. They came in second behind the Fab 5 from Philly and their rendition of the Beatles' “Yesterday” performed as a tap routine.

“At least Miss
Toni will be glad about that,” Scarlett said. Their teacher was heading for them with a scowl on her face. “Or maybe not?”

“Everyone, in the dressing room, now!” Toni commanded. “This calls for drastic measures.”

The Divas had no idea what Toni meant by “drastic measures,” but they were pretty sure it wasn't going to be fun.

“You think she's going to kick us all off the team?” Bria asked Scarlett as they walked to the changing room.

Scarlett shrugged. “I don't know. I've never seen her this mad before.”

When they opened the door, Toni was pacing the floor. “Sit,” she said firmly. The girls all took seats on the floor.

“Does anyone know why we lost today?” she
began. She scanned the faces in the room, waiting for someone to volunteer an answer. Finally, Gracie's hand went up.

“ 'Cause some people were mean?” she said, glaring at Scarlett.

“Because everyone was mean to each other. Because no one here, not one of you, acted like you belonged on a team,” Toni explained. “And I cannot have that.”

Scarlett gulped. This was it. The Dance Divas Elite Competition Team was history. “Please, Miss Toni!” she pleaded. “Can't we have one more chance? We can show you that we are a great team.”

Toni shook her head. “I don't believe that—not after what I saw today. And I won't believe it until you prove me wrong.”

“How are we gonna do that?” Anya asked. “Dance Fusion is over.”

“Precisely,” Toni answered her. “There are no more chances for you to fix what happened here today. It's going to take more than dancing to
convince me that any of you are worthy of calling yourselves Divas ever again.”

Scarlett gulped. She knew Toni meant business. But if they couldn't dance to prove themselves worthy, then what?

“Tomorrow, I want all of you to meet me at the studio at seven a.m. sharp. Bring your mothers with you. I'll need them to sign a permission slip.”

“Ooh, are we going on a class trip—like to the circus?” Gracie suggested. “That's when my teacher has us get permission slips.”

“No, no circus,” Toni answered. “But I will tell you this: where I'm taking you will require you to work as a team. If not, you won't survive.”

“Survive?” Liberty spoke up. “My mother will never agree to anything that's dangerous … or icky.”

“Actually, since your mother is still in Hollywood, I sent her an e-mail,” Toni replied. “And she was one hundred percent in favor of my idea. She thinks it will be good for you to get your hands dirty.”

Liberty looked panic-stricken. “But I just got a manicure!”

“Get our hands dirty? What's she gonna make us do?” Rochelle whispered to her teammates. “Plant rosebushes behind the studio? Haul garbage to the dump? Wash her car?”

“I bet she'll have us clean out that dusty old prop closet at the studio,” Bria said. “Who knows what's living in there …”

“No more talking,” Toni hushed them. “If you want to remain a Diva, you will be at the studio tomorrow morning. And leave your dance bags at home.”

Back at home that night, Scarlett told her mom exactly what Toni had said.

“I can't say I blame her,” her mom replied. “It drives me crazy when you two fight over silly things.”

Scarlett glanced over at Gracie, who was trying to tie a small silver bell around their kitten's neck while he wiggled out of it.

“I'm going to start dinner. Play nice,” their mom warned them.

Scarlett rolled her eyes. She was too old to play any of her little sister's crazy games. And the one she was working on at the moment looked particularly bizarre. Gracie was arranging a bunch of boxes, cans, and assorted toys all around the living room.

“What are you doing?” she asked, then instantly regretted it. Gracie took it as an invitation to join in.

“Oh! It's the Kitten Olympics. See, this is Mr. Mustard's obstacle course. And if he completes it, he wins a solid-gold medal,” Gracie explained.

“Really? Where are you going to get a solid-gold medal?” Scarlett asked.

Gracie scratched her head. She hadn't thought about that. “Can I borrow one of your dance ones?” she asked.

Scarlett's face turned brick red. “No way! You do not touch any of my dance medals, do you hear me? They're special, and they're mine!”

But Gracie was already on her feet, racing up the stairs to Scarlett's bedroom.

“Did you hear me, Gracie?” Scarlett shouted after her. “I said NO!”

“Just one? I'll borrow it and give it back. Promise!” Gracie called down.

Scarlett bounded up the stairs after her. “This is the last straw, Gracie. I mean it! If you take one more of my things, I am going to put a lock on my room to keep you out. Or better yet: I'll put a lock on your room to keep you in!”

She found her little sister standing on her bed, examining a dozen or so of Scarlett's medals hanging off of a hook in the wall over her headboard.

“Come down now,” Scarlett fumed. “Touch one thing and that's it …”

Gracie smiled. “You mean like this, Scoot?” She unhooked a medal and slipped it over her head. “I think it looks really good on me.”

Scarlett gritted her teeth. “Give. It. Back.” As she lunged for her, Gracie bounced off the bed
like it was a trampoline. She dangled the medal in front of her. “Catch me! Catch me! You can't catch me!”

This time, Scarlett aimed low—she grabbed Gracie around the ankles and wouldn't let go. “Hand it over!”

Gracie tried to wiggle away. She looked like a penguin. “Cut it out!” she screamed. “Mommy! Scarlett won't let me have one of her stupid gold medals for Mr. Mustard!”

Suddenly, they both froze in their tracks. Where was Mr. Mustard?

“You left the kitty downstairs by himself?” Gracie asked. “He's a baby! He'll get hurt!”

Scarlett immediately released her grip. “I'm sure he's fine.” But she was just as worried.

They raced down the steps and looked in the living room. There was no cat in sight. “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Mustard,” Gracie called. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Scarlett peered under the couch, behind the window curtains, and even inside their mom's
favorite vase on the coffee table. No Mr. Mustard.

“Where could he be?” Gracie asked anxiously.

Then they heard a tinkling-bell sound coming from down the hallway.

“Mr. Mustard!” they both cried. They ran into the foyer to find the tiny kitten on the very tiptop of their mom's china cabinet.

“Oh my gooshness!” Gracie exclaimed. “How did he get all the way up there? I can't even reach up there!”

“He must be a good climber,” Scarlett said. “We have to get him down.”

She pulled out a step stool from the closet. “Here, kitty, kitty,” she sang. “Come on down, kitty, kitty.”

Their mom heard all the commotion and came out to investigate. “What are you two doing?”

“Mr. Mustard is in trouble, Mommy,” Gracie said, flinging her arms around her mother's waist. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “We have to save him!”

“I think I can almost reach him,” Scarlett said, stretching on her tiptoes. But when she touched his tail, the kitten backed farther away.

“Ugh,” Scarlett said, sighing. “It's no use.”

“But we have to rescue him!”

“It's times like this I wish your dad was still here,” their mother said. “He's six feet tall.”

“Call Daddy! Call the fire department! Call anyone!” Gracie pleaded. “What if he jumps!”

Scarlett got down off the stool and put her arm around Gracie. “Look, I know you're scared, but we can't panic. We have to think.” She noticed Mr. Mustard's favorite toy—a purple pom-pom ball—in the corner of the stairs. “I think I have an idea—but I need your help, Gracie. Go get one of your dolls and some yarn.”

Gracie returned and Scarlett took the Barbie from her, posing it so the arms were stretched high over her head. She tied a piece of yarn to one of the doll's hands and the other to the ball. “You hold this and climb up on my shoulders—just like you did in the “Leaning Tower of Pisa”
dance we did for Dance Starz America,” she instructed her sister. Gracie obeyed, and Scarlett held tight to the backs of her legs and ankles.

“Careful girls,” their mother said nervously. “I can't look!”

Together, Scarlett and Gracie were tall enough to reach the top of the cabinet. “Now wiggle the doll at Mr. Mustard,” Scarlett said. “Make it a game.”

“Hello, little kitty,” Gracie said in a high-pitched voice. “Look what I got for you!”

The kitten was curious and came closer. “Gotcha!” Gracie shouted, grabbing the kitten in her other hand. Scarlett gently lowered them both down to the floor.

“Oh, Mr. Mustard, you scared us!” Gracie said, cuddling him. “Don't you ever do that again!”

“How did he get all the way up there?” her mother asked. “It must be seven feet high!”

“Obviously, he takes after Gracie,” Scarlett said. “He has amazing acro moves!” She suddenly remembered what their fight had been about. It
seemed so silly now—especially when their kitten had almost been hurt because of it.

She ran upstairs and got one of her gold dance medals and brought it down to Gracie. “Here,” she said. “That was a gold-medal rescue if I ever saw one.”