The Clique (6 page)

             
Sure enough, when Mrs. Davis, the dance coach—a thin, perky woman with a huge smile and mousy brown hair—sits behind a table in front of the bleachers, only four other girls are standing beside Maddie.

              “Ladies, ladies, welcome! I assume you’re all here for tryouts?” Mrs. Davis leans forward expectantly.

              Maddie nods along with the rest.

              “Very good!” She launches into a speech about “what it means to be a Patriot”. Maddie tunes her out, for the most part, but manages to catch something about choreography and “only one open spot”.

              “I’m sorry,” Maddie says. “Could you repeat that last part?”

              “I said—“ the teacher drums her fingers on the table “—that our choreography this year is only appropriate for an even number of dancers. Which means either only one of you will make it, or three of you will. Or, if you’re all extraordinarily good, I suppose we might have room for all of you. But I’m not particularly keen on managing sixteen girls, so…“

              In other words, she doesn’t wanna come out and say that only one of them is going to make it, but—Maddie looks down the row, spotting at least two other girls who definitely aren’t in very good shape—that’s probably what’s going to happen.

              “Who would like to go first?” Mrs. Davis asks.

              Maddie keeps her hand down. She’d rather let somebody else go first. One of the girls she pegged as out-of-shape steps forward. “I’ll go.”

              Mrs. Davis nods. She pats an old stereo. “Did you bring your music?”

              “Yeah.” The girl pulls out her phone and frowns at the boom box. “It’s on here, though.”

              “That’s alright. I have a connecter cable, somewhere…“ Mrs. Davis leans under the desk. “Aha! Here you are.”

              Maddie and the three other girls sit on the lowest bleacher while the girl cues her music. She begins a routine set to an upbeat drum track. Other than a few spins and one attempt at a split, the routine is complete white-bread: about as bland as dancing can get. Maddie knows she can do better than that.

             
The next girl starts her tryout; an older-looking girl sitting next to Maddie sighs.

              “Well, unless all three of
us
make it—“ she gestures to Maddie and the other, freshman girl on the bleachers “—it looks like we’re competing for the same spot. This is just sad.” The older girl has skin that’s the same golden-tan color as Maddie’s and shiny brown hair. She has an athletic build: the strong legs of a dancer and broad shoulders of a gymnast.

              “Yeah. Well, I worked too hard not to make the team,” Maddie says with a bravado she doesn’t feel. “So let’s just do really well.”

              The older girl volunteers next, leaving Maddie and the freshman on the bench. She performs an interpretive routine packed with moves Maddie wouldn’t even try. Like a back handspring leading into a cartwheel. The whole thing looks dizzying; when the older girl finishes, she wobbles on her feet before taking a bow and walking for the door.

              “Wait, stay here,” Mrs. Davis instructs. “I want you to stay in the bleachers while we watch the other performances.”

              Maddie and the freshman lock eyes, each one mentally willing the other to go first.
Maddie sighs, knowing that she ought to go. After all, she’s older, and presumably braver.
I shouldn’t be such a wimp about it,
she thinks
. Worst that can happen is—I break an ankle or throw up or something. Yeah, that’s a comforting thought.
“I’ll go next,” Maddie says.

              “Great! Do you have music?”

              “Of course.” Maddie plugs the connection cable in and cues her song.

              Her interpretive dance is more emotional than athletic: instead of flips and spins, Maddie counts on the precision of her movements to secure a spot on the team. As she lowers herself into the final split, it looks like—
Mrs. Davis isn’t even watching!
She’s busily chatting with the older girl.

              “Well, that’s everything,” Maddie says, followed by an awkward bow.

              “You can stay too.” Mrs. Davis nods to a seat beside her. “Last one, here we go. Do you have music?”

              The little girl shakes her head. She looks about twelve, with her hair tied in ponytails and a short frame.
I bet she’s even shorter than Aude,
Maddie thinks
.
“I didn’t know we had to have a song,” the freshman squeaks out.

              “Oh. Well, that’s alright,” Mrs. Davis says. “You do have a routine, though?”

              “Yes.”

              “Go ahead, then.” The girl shows promise; although she trips once and her pointes aren’t exactly the cleanest, the routine is interesting. When she finishes, Mrs. Davis doesn’t bother asking her to stay.

              She turns to Maddie and the older girl. “I was afraid this was going to happen. I’m terribly sorry, but it just doesn’t look like we have enough talent to fill three spots. I’ll make my decision by Friday, and tell you personally.”

              “Thank you,” Maddie says. She and the older girl head out to the hall.

              “So, if that freshman hadn’t screwed everything up for us—“ the senior says.

              “Yeah, we could’ve all been on the squad.”

              “Yup. I’m Bella, by the way.”

              “Maddie.”

              “Nice to meet you.” Bella looks down at her shoes. “You were amazing back there. Like a professional.”

              “Thanks. You too! I couldn’t do half of what you did.”

              “Oh, that.” Bella shrugs. “I was a JV Pom my freshman and sophomore year, but I got bored of it. So I took a year off, and now I’m gonna be a Patriot. Well, hopefully. Not that—I mean, I don’t wanna take your spot.”

              The way she says it, like she already knows the spot’s hers, irks Maddie. “And I don’t wanna take yours,” she replies in the exact same tone.

              Bella grins. “Let’s just agree that whoever gets in, the other girl won’t be mad. Okay?”

              “Sure. Well, I gotta go.” Maddie heads for the glass doors out to the front courtyard, making her way to the parking lot. She finds her cobalt blue Camry in the upper lot and waves a goodbye to Bella before heading to Kate’s house.

              Aude and Kate are sitting on opposite ends of the living room couch.

              “Where’s Hannah?” Maddie asks as she closes the front door.

              “Out. With Devon.” Kate frowns. “She said not to wait for her.”

              “Oh. Okay.” Maddie hesitates before squeezing in between Aude and Kate. Something feels wrong
.
The other girls are both focusing intently on the television. “What are we watching?”

              “Something’s Gotta Give.” Aude shifts uncomfortably. “So, how were tryouts?”

              “Meh. I thought I did well, but apparently they’re only looking for one girl, and there was this senior, Bella, who was really good too.”

              Aude frowns. “Bella. I think I know her…“ She scrunches her nose. “Nope, I can’t remember. The name sounds familiar, though.”

              “Oh, well she’s this tall-ish girl, with brown hair and a really deep tan. And she said she was on JV Poms for two years.”

              “Oh!” Maddie can almost see the light bulb turning on in Audrey’s mind. “I do know her! Her older sister was a Patriot, with Jackie. We met at one of their competitions.”

              Maddie laughs. “You know everyone Aude.”

              “Well, not everyone. But—did Mrs. Davis tell you who made the squad?”

              “Not yet. She said she’d decide by Friday.”

              “Oh.” Aude glances down, focusing on a throw pillow in her hands.

              “What?”

              “Well, I’m not sure I should say. It’s just something Jackie told me…“

              Maddie sighs. “Tell me. Please.”

              Aude pulls at a loose string on the pillow. “She said that Mrs. Davis was—that getting on the Patriots was sort of political. Like it’s more about who you know than how good you are.”

              Maddie almost dismisses the notion without even considering it. It’s ridiculous. No coach would ever be so shallow. But the way Bella seemed so confident that she’d take the spot, the memory of Mrs. Davis chatting with the older girl instead of watching the end of her routine… Maybe Aude’s right.

              “Hey, I have an idea!” Aude smiles at Maddie. “I could talk to Mrs. Davis, just like casually mention that you and I are friends or something.”

              “What good would that do?”

              “Jackie was the captain for two years, and Mrs. Davis loves me. If it really is political, I mean, it can’t hurt. And—ooh ooh ooh! I could say Jackie saw you dance, and told me you reminded her of her, back in high school!”

              Maddie gulps. “No, I’d rather win or lose based on like my actual talent. I don’t wanna cheat.”

              “But it isn’t cheating!” Aude puts a hand on Maddie’s arm. “You’re just using your resources!”

              Maddie blinks. “Using their resources” is the girls’ euphemism for cheating. Get the answers for a test from a friend who had the class last year? Well, it’s okay to take a peek, you’re just using your resources! Find the teacher’s version of the textbook online? Just using your resources! “No thanks. Really, thanks for the offer, but I couldn’t.”

             
“Okay.” Aude lets the issue drop. “Well, I should get home. See you all tomorrow.”

              “Bye!” Maddie hugs her friend, but Kate only gives a curt nod, her eyes still on the television.

              “Love you,” Aude says, looking a little confused. “Take care.”

              “Yup. See you.” Kate’s lips twist in a small smile.

              The moment Audrey’s gone, Maddies turn to Kate expectantly. “Um, what was that?”

              “What was what?”

              “You hardly said a word to Aude, the whole time she was here. And you just like, almost ignored her. What’s going on?”

              Kate grabs the clicker and turns the TV off. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell Aude.”

              “I promise.”

              Kate relays what happened with Sean. “And it’s horrible, because I know I shouldn’t blame her for what he said, and that he was high and may not have even known what he was saying, but—“ she sighs “—I can’t help how I feel!”

              “Oh, Kate.” Maddie leans over to give her friend a hug. “That’s horrible. But you should be mad at Sean, not Aude. If he really meant what he said, he’s an idiot.”

              “He is?”

              “Of course. I love Aude to death, so don’t tell her I said this, but you’re so much better put together. Like, as a person.”

              Kate sniffles. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been sorta bitchy all week.”

              “Oh, it’s alright.” Aude frowns at Kate’s closet. “We all have our days. Do you still have that pink top? The one with the tears on the shoulders?”

              “Yeah, I think it’s in the back. But listen, I really am sorry.”

              Aude turns to look Kate in the eye. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

              Kate glances away. It was to her. “Okay, thanks.”

              Audrey finds the top and matches it with a pair of cropped shorts. “Are you excited for student council?”

              “Yeah, I guess. You know Amanda’s just gonna win again—“

              “And Maddie will be crushed, like she is every year. Yup. But it’ll be fun to hang out with everyone.”

              Kate laughs. “I already hang out with everyone from student council that I actually like.”

              “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But there are a few people I wouldn’t mind catching up with. Anyway, are you going to the soccer game after?”

              “Probably.”
Not like I have anything better to do,
Kate thinks with a sigh
.
The two girls finish getting ready and head to school.

              Hannah’s already at their before-school spot, her arms wrapped around a tall, blond boy who is definitely not Devon Rose.

              Kate fakes a cough. “Hey, Hannah.”

              “Oh, hey guys. What’s up?”

              Kate raises her eyebrows.
Okay, go on and pretend like nothing’s wrong, Hannah.
“Not much. How about you?”

              “I’m good. Great, actually.” Hannah puts a hand on her beau’s back. “Kate, Aude, this is Nate. My new boyfriend.”