Two to Tango (8 page)

“Yes, you can do ‘Love's First Kiss' with Hayden, and he gets the solo—per your dance-off rules,” Toni replied. “But I am putting in two more solos that will knock the judges' socks off. Anya will
do one, and Gracie, you'll do the other. Your cooking routine was hot stuff.”

Before Gracie could even hesitate, Hayden patted her on the back. “Go, Gracie!” He winked. “You and me soloing!” Gracie smiled.

So that was it,
Rochelle thought.
Everyone was getting what they wanted—except for her.

Toni must have read her mind. “And since Rochelle was such a great Divas director in my absence, I am going to make her my official assistant for Leaps and Bounds—if she thinks she can handle it.”

Rochelle smiled. No Diva had ever “assisted” Toni. Usually one of the dance instructors or choreographers tagged along to direct the activity from the wings. It felt awesome that Toni trusted her so much—especially when she saw Liberty squirm. “Yes! I can do it!”

“It means making sure all your teammates are set backstage at the competition; that all the music, scenery, and props are ready; that everything down to the last tiny detail is accounted
for. I'll be in the audience watching, and I won't tolerate any mistakes.”

Rochelle looked over at Scarlett, who was giving her two thumbs-up. “I can handle it,” she said firmly.

Toni strolled over to the calendar on the wall and pointed to the red circle on Saturday. “We only have two days to fix these dances,” she said sternly. “I want to see sweat, and I want to see perfection.” Every head in the studio nodded. “Next stop: Leaps and Bounds.”

As the Dance Divas' bus pulled up to the entrance of a small school, Toni stuck her head out the window. There was a banner out front that read, “GO, BULLDOGS!”

“This is it?” she asked. “This is Leaps and Bounds. Are you sure?”

The bus driver nodded. “This is the place.”

Rochelle hoped the GPS knew what it was doing. They'd competed in huge hotels, mammoth convention centers, even theme parks. But never before in a school.

“This should be interesting.” Their dance
coach sighed. “Remember, girls . . . and boy . . . no fraternizing with the enemy.”

“What does that mean?” Gracie asked, tugging on Miss Toni's coat.

“It means if you see Justine, or Mandy or any of the other City Feet dancers, don't talk to them.”

Toni strode up the steps of the high school to the entrance and pushed through the big red doors. The Divas followed, heads held high, while Rochelle hobbled behind. Inside, there were already numerous dance troupes checking in at registration.

“Where's the stage?” Toni asked. “And the dressing rooms?”

A boy behind the desk motioned to the right. “There is no stage. The dance competition is in the gymnasium. And the locker rooms are that-away.”

“Seriously? Is this a dance competition or gym class?” Liberty complained.

“We'll make the best of it,” Toni said, grabbing their credentials and checking the lineup.

“Sorry . . . if we knew you were coming, we would have rolled out the red carpet,” said a voice behind them.

Toni didn't even have to turn around. “Justine,” she said, smiling through gritted teeth. “Did you just arrive here on your broomstick?”

“Wow,” Hayden whispered to Rochelle. “You weren't kidding about things getting ugly between Divas and City Feet.”

“It hasn't even started.” Scarlett sighed, watching Mandy and the rest of her team stroll through the doors of the high school. “Here comes trouble.”

“If she opens her mouth, I swear I'm gonna trip her with my crutches,” Rochelle said bristly.

Mandy, the seven-year-old “Tiny Terror” of City Feet, made a beeline right for Gracie. It was much easier to pick on someone her own size. “Miss Justine says you're a scaredy-cat—and that my aerials are way higher than yours.”

Scarlett was about to defend her sister, but Liberty stopped her.

“I got this,” she said, ignoring Miss Toni's order not to talk to City Feet. “If it isn't Mandy Mouse.” Liberty grinned. “So nice to see you and your Stinky Feet again. Would you like to congratulate us now or later for beating you today? Your choice.”

“Ouch!” Hayden commented. “That's gotta hurt.”

“Sometimes I really love Liberty,” Scarlett remarked. “She always knows just what to say.”

“I'm glad she's on our team . . . and not theirs,” Bria added.

“Our coach told us not to listen to you,” Mandy said with a sniff. “You're just little mosquitoes, buzzing in our ears.
BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ.
”

“And you know what happens to mosquitoes,” said Regan, another girl on the City Feet team. She was eleven, the same age as Scarlett, Rochelle, Liberty, and Bria, and she wore her dark hair in a short pixie cut. Rumor had it that Justine was grooming her for stardom. She clapped her hands together. “SWAT!”

Anya suddenly stepped forward. “I wouldn't be too sure about that,” she said.

Regan froze; she and Anya had been friends on City Feet. “You're on their team? I thought you went back home to L.A.”

“Well, of course she is,” Liberty quipped. “She wants to be on the winning team . . . not with the losers.”

“Well, we don't need Anya,” Mandy shot back. “We have Addison.” A tall, blond teenage girl stepped forward. She was wearing the City Feet black-and-white satin jacket.

“Hey,” she said simply.

“Hay is for horses, Baddison—didn't Miss Justine teach you that?” Liberty chuckled.

“No, but she did teach me to do fifty
fouettés
in a row—which is more than you can do,” Addison replied, grinning. “Unless you'd like to prove me wrong.”

“Anytime,” Liberty growled back.

“Ladies, ladies,” Hayden said, pulling Liberty away from their rivals. “Can't we all just be friends?”

“Who's this? Your bodyguard?” Addison taunted them.

“Ha-ha! The Divas are scared of us! They need a bodyguard to protect them!” Mandy said, laughing.

“You just bring it!” Rochelle exclaimed. “I am so gonna kick your butt, you mean little munchkin!” Then she remembered she was in a cast and on crutches. The entire City Feet team erupted in laughter.

“OMG, that is too funny!” Regan laughed. “Look, Rochelle has a boo-boo! I wonder how many
pirouettes
you can do in that thing!” She snapped a photo of the ugly black boot on Rochelle's foot. “I'm so posting this on Instagram!”

Justine grabbed the iPhone out of her hand. “You'll do nothing of the kind,” she commanded. “We do our fighting on the dance floor.” With that, she ushered her team down the hall.

Hayden shook his head. “I take back everything I ever said about Divas not being tough.”

“Are you proud of yourselves?” Toni asked. She
had seen the whole argument go down. “Didn't I tell you to steer clear of City Feet?”

“Mandy started it,” Gracie tattled. “She called me a scaredy-cat.”

“I don't care what she said or what any of them said. We don't stoop to their level.”

Gracie raised her hand. “Miss Toni, does Justine really have a broomstick like you said? Is it like the one in
Harry Potter?
”

Rochelle giggled. Leave it to Gracie to call Toni out!

“No, I was making a joke. But you're right—it wasn't funny and it wasn't nice. So let's all just forget about City Feet and focus on our own team.”

In the gymnasium, Scarlett felt the floor with her jazz shoe. It was rock hard and slippery with wax.

“We're not used to dancing on a floor like this,” she told Toni.

“A dancer can dance anywhere,” Toni replied. “Fred Astaire danced on the ceiling.” She climbed
up on a ladder to check that the PVC pipe Liberty's mom had sent them was properly hung from the gym ceiling and rigged to a water hose.

“Is that our hurricane?” Anya asked.

“Hopefully,” Toni said. “The holes should let the water from the hose trickle through behind you. And the trough on the floor should catch it and keep the floor dry. It'll look like a curtain of rain behind you.”

Toni continued talking—more to herself than to any of the Divas. “We need to make sure the thunder and lightning goes off on time . . . and the wind machine is blowing hard enough so the judges can feel it in their faces. Rochelle? Are you paying attention?”

Rochelle was sitting on the bleachers, watching Liberty and Hayden run their routine in the corner of the gym. She knew it was just acting, but they did look like a couple in love, especially when Hayden lifted her high overhead, then gently cradled her in his arms. Watching them only made her feel worse, but she couldn't look away.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Toni asked.

Rochelle jumped to attention. “Sorry. What?”

Toni sighed and sat down next to her.

“Marcus Sanzobar,” her teacher said quietly.

“Huh?”

“Marcus Sanzobar was the boy my teacher Miss Olga paired me with in
pas de deux
class at ABC.”

Rochelle sensed a tale about Toni's teen years at American Ballet Company coming on. Her teacher was very tight-lipped about her past, and only shared details when she had an important point to make—a moral to her story. So Rochelle listened carefully.

“Marcus was an amazing dancer,” Toni said. “I loved to watch him. He was so dynamic as Franz in
Coppélia
.”

“Was he cute?” Rochelle asked.

“The cutest,” Toni replied. “He had blond hair and green eyes that twinkled in the spotlight. We hung out together after ballet class every day. We'd eat pizza, play video games. Then one day, he called me Swanilda.”

“Ugh!” Rochelle made a face. “That's an awful thing to call anyone!”

“No! No!” Toni corrected her. “It's a lovely thing to call your girlfriend. Swanilda is the girl who wins Franz's heart in
Coppélia
.”

“So, he was your BF?”

Toni smiled. “My first BF ever. Justine got to dance with him quite a bit at ABC as she made her way up the ranks there.”

“Oh, no! Justine stole your boyfriend?” Rochelle cried. “That's terrible!”

“No, that's the point. She didn't. She tried her hardest, but Marcus was never interested in her, only her dancing. You see what I'm saying?”

Rochelle slowly nodded her head. “That I shouldn't worry about Liberty doing a duet with Hayden?”

“Exactly!” Toni said, patting her on the arm. “What you should worry about is the wind machine, Swanilda.”

Rochelle checked and double-checked that all the Divas' music was ready, and all their props were in place and working. “Don't forget, Anya,”
she reminded her new teammate. “You enter down the ramp.”

She pointed to a white wooden wedge Toni had stowed in the wings. Anya was dancing the role of Nikiya, a royal temple dancer, from the ballet
La Bayadère
. It was Toni's idea to dress her in a flowing white handkerchief skirt, a silver beaded halter top, and a white chiffon veil draped over her face. The dance called for incredible grace and beautiful long lines—both were Anya's specialty. But Anya wasn't too sure about the veil.

“It's kind of hard to see through,” she told Rochelle. “I'm afraid I'm going to fall down the ramp. Or worse, into the judges' laps! Then there's this . . .”

She held up a porcelain water jug Miss Toni had brought along on the bus. “She wants me to balance it on my head. Seriously! It weighs a ton!”

Rochelle laughed. “Okay, that's pretty funny. Toni does have a talent for throwing things into the routines at the very last minute.”

Anya placed the jug on her head and tried to
steady it. Every time she took her hands away, it wobbled, threatening to crash to the floor. “This is hopeless!” she cried.