Bring It On (8 page)

“My sister taught me some moves. We're the kind of sisters who are friends, too. Not the kind that fight all the time,” Sammi told Maddy Caulder. Maddy was subbing for Randall, the regular teacher of the basic hip-hop class. Sammi hadn't even met Randall yet. Today was day one for her.

Maddy shook her head. “I still can't believe it's your first class. You're picking up everything so fast.”

“I guess cheerleading helps, too. We're always learning routines,” Sammi told her.

“Okay, guys, let's go through it once more. People on the left, watch me. People on the right, watch Sammi. Remember, we're all doing the same moves. We're just doing them in opposite directions.”

In the mirror Sammi saw the kids behind her nod and smile. “All right,” Maddy said. “And five, six, seven, eight. Step out. Shoulder up. Shoulder out. Head out. Knees in. Knees out—toes out.”

Maddy continued to shout out the moves, and Sammi followed along, snapping her arms and legs and shoulders and neck in the series of motions. It made her body feel juiced, like there was this electric current running through her veins. No wonder Sophie loved this stuff!

“Foot behind and turn,” Ms. Caulder concluded. She turned around and applauded the class. They applauded back. “Very nice. Randall will be back next week. He'll add on to the combo, and you'll start working it to music.”

Sammi grabbed her sweatshirt off the floor and used it to wipe down her neck and face. She pulled the rubber band out of her hair and let it fall loose in a black stream down her back. Did she have time to run to the locker room for a quick coat of lip gloss?

No, she decided. Sophie's Performance Group class was supposed to start up in the room down the hall in ten minutes. Sammi didn't know how early ill papi liked to get there, so she couldn't risk being in the locker room when it was the right moment to just
happen
to run into him.

“Thanks for helping me out with that last part, Sammi,” Maddy said as Sammi headed out the door. “It makes it easier if there's someone up in front demonstrating each direction.”

“It was fun,” Sammi told her. Then she took a deep breath and stepped out in the hall. A quick glance in both directions showed that ill papi wasn't around yet. She uncapped her sports bottle and drained the water that was left.

Sammi wasn't too worried about what to say. With boys, it didn't really matter. Just talking to them at all—looking at them, maybe a fast arm touch—showed you were interested. And that was pretty much that.

A flash of movement near the boys' locker room caught her attention. Uh-huh. There he was. Sammi headed down the hall, timing her walk so that she'd intercept him before he reached the door of his practice room.

“Hey, you're ill papi, right?” she asked when she was close enough. She gave her hair one quick flick. The hair flick was a really effective boy-attention grabber. But Sammi reminded herself not to use it again in this conversation. Too much flicking could make a girl look nervous. Or like she had a scalp condition. Eww.

Ill papi's eyes followed the hair flick. But he didn't move closer.
Hmmm.

“My sister's in the Performance Group with you. Sophie.”

Ill papi nodded. That was all.
Hmmm.

“And I just started taking classes today because the stuff you do in the group is so killer.”

He nodded again. And backed up a step.

Backed up. As in away from her. Sammi's brows came together.

No boy had ever stepped
away
from her before.

“Look at that.” Sophie took a step closer to the window. Emerson stopped her pre-class stretching and moved over next to Sophie. She looked through the practice room window and into the hallway. “What am I seeing?”

“You are seeing something that no one has ever seen before,” Sophie said, using her best TV infomercial announcer voice. Then she realized she was attracting a little attention from the other people waiting for class to start, so she continued more softly, a lot more softly. “You're seeing my sister crash and burn with a boy. Ill papi, to be exact about it.”

“Your sister's taking classes here?” Emerson asked.

Well, since she's standing there all sweaty in a tracksuit, that would be a yes,
Sophie felt like saying. But Emerson didn't deserve her snark.

“Yep. She's in our old class. Oh, he's looking at his watch,” Sophie said. After the watch check, ill papi took a step away from Sammi. Big I-don't-want-to-be-talkin'-to-you cues. Sammi said something else, then gave it up and retreated. Ill papi headed for the drinking fountain without as much as a backward glance at Sophie's sister.

Unsuccessful. Sammi hadn't even gotten a smile out of him. Unbelievable.

“At least she's brave enough to make the attempt,” Emerson said. “I'm one of those girls who's gone to, like, one school dance. And I stood by the bleachers, paralyzed. If a guy had tried to talk to me, I'd probably have said something like, ‘Um, me?' And actually approach one—nuh-uh.”

Sophie laughed. “I'm pretty much the same.”

Emerson wagged her finger at Sophie. “Liar. You talk to boys all the time. I've seen you. You've talked to every guy in this class. M.J. Fridge. Ky. The twins. And ill papi. They all love you.”

“I talk to them. But I don't
talk
to them.”

“You're gonna have to explain,” Emerson told her.

“I talk to them, but it's not guy-girl talking,” Sophie said. “Because of the fact that they don't even realize I'm a girl. They don't think I'm a male, exactly. They don't think about it either way. I'm just a buddy.”

“So, you talk to them all the time. I never talk to them. But we're both basically chickens around them,” Emerson summed up.

“I wouldn't say I'm a chicken,” Sophie protested.

“But if there was a guy who did see you as a girl . . .” Emerson said.

“Okay. Yeah, it would feel a lot different. It would be hard to talk to him. I don't think I'd be able to joke around the way I usually do,” Sophie agreed.

“Hey, we're having a conversation. Not about dance!” Emerson exclaimed.

“Yeah. So?”

“So, nothing.” Emerson bent down to tie her shoelace, even though it was already tied.

“So?” Sophie asked, bending down to tie her own lace, even though it was also already tied.

“So, I don't know, I was just thinking it was kind of like maybe we were becoming friends,” Emerson said in a rush, her face close to Sophie's. “How dorky is it that I said that out loud?”

Sophie grinned. “Very dorky, my friend, very dorky.”

She straightened up and saw ill papi stride into the room. She winked at Emerson and rushed over to him, then whipped the baseball cap off his head. She hugged it tight. Then held it out in front of her and stared at it, frowning.

“Sorry, I thought it was my teddy bear,” she told ill papi.

He laughed.
Sammi couldn't do that,
Sophie told herself.
She couldn't even make him smile.

Immediately Sophie felt bad for having such a mean little thought. She tossed the hat back to ill papi. “Better keep it on. You don't want people to see your bald spot.”

Ill papi laughed again, then his smile kind of slid off his face, and he took a step closer to her. “Can I ask you something, Soph?”

Her heart started doing a stutter move in her chest. Was he actually going to
talk to her
talk to her?

“I just wanted to know . . .” He hesitated. “Your sister, what grade is she in?”

“Ninth. She's three years older than me,” Sophie answered, on autopilot.

Ill papi nodded and walked off. Sophie stared after him.

Wha-huh? What was going on? Out in the hall, ill papi looked like couldn't wait to get away from Sammi.

But just now . . . just now he'd acted the same as every other boy who'd come up to Sophie to score info on Sammi.

That would mean—hold on. Stop right there. Red light.

Did ill papi like her sister?

“I like my little spot all the way in the back, in the corner,” Devane told herself as she headed into the practice room. It wasn't true. But she told it to herself anyway, because she wanted to be a gold-star student today. Getting known as a troublemaker was not part of the plan.

“Hey, everybody,” Gina called. “I want to get started. But I have an announcement first. We have a new performance scheduled over at Gulliver Academy next Friday. That's one of the magnet schools for the performing arts. The show will be a month before the Disney World show, so it will be a great chance for us to make sure we have all the kinks out.”

“Yay!” Max started leaping around like a cheerleader. The girl had as much energy as Tamal after a family-size box of Froot Loops.

“I know you love the idea of being onstage, Max,” Gina told her, “but get it under control. Or you and I will have to step outside for a chat.”

Max got herself under control. Why did Gina have to go all drill sergeant? Max was just a little excited.

Devane actually was, too. So a high school wasn't the place to get discovered. So she'd be dancing in the back row. She'd still be performing, with all those lights on her. She couldn't wait.

“We've got a lot of work to do. Today we'll finish up learning our new number. I want to assign some solos for a couple of places. Our new members also need to start learning our old routines,” Gina said.

Devane's brain froze on “solos.” A plan B had just opened up in front of her. No, she was down to plan C already. A sizzlin' plan C. Scoring a solo would be just as good as getting herself into the front row. Better. She focused on Gina, listening for what she had to do to be picked.

“Ill papi and M.J., I want you to kick it off,” Gina continued. “You'll come out from opposite sides of the stage. I have a little piece worked out for you. Then everybody will enter.”

So it was a done deal. Plan C was a dud before it had even started up. Gina had already made her choices. “Chloe and Sophie, I want you each to turn around and break out on your own for a couple of moves after that section where everyone is facing toward the back—where we ended up last time. We'll go over the steps later.”

New kids were getting solo time. Maybe Devane would, too.

“Then right before the end, we're going to do an add-on. Emerson's going to start us off. Then Devane will come in. Then Max. Then Becca. Then we'll reverse it. Becca will go out. Then Max. Then Devane. And Emerson will finish us off. We'll work on that at the end of next class.” Gina looked around. “Any questions?”

Yeah,
Devane wanted to say.
How'd you decide Blondie gets to be the one owning the spotlight at the start and finish?

How it killed Devane not to say it.

Emerson sat in front of one of the mirrors at the long table in the Gulliver Academy dressing room. This school obviously went all out for its theater department.

As she carefully put on her eyeliner, she reviewed the finish of the add-on, the part where she was alone again. Gina had heard from Maddy about the way she'd seen Emerson incorporating ballet into her moves, and Gina had decided to have Emerson do some of those moves solo at the end of the sequence.

“You ready to get it done, ballerina?” Devane asked, dropping into the empty chair next to Emerson.
Why'd Sophie need to go to the bathroom right now?
Emerson thought. That chair should have been occupied. She so didn't need to deal with the Divine One right now.

“Sure, I'm ready. A little nervous. But I always am before a show, and I think it keeps my focus sharp,” Emerson answered. “What about you?”