On Pointe (4 page)

The choreographer smiled. “I have no doubt about that, young lady. Just bring that energy and confidence to your role and we'll be in great shape.”

“And you,” he turned to Addison. “I'm counting on you to be a breathtaking Sugar Plum. You come highly recommended.”

“I told you!” Rochelle elbowed Scarlett. “I knew Justine was behind this.”

“We don't know that for sure,” Bria reminded her. “Addison
is
a really good dancer.”

“I'm just as good,” Liberty said. “Better. I don't scrunch up my face when I'm concentrating.”

They watched as Addison glided across the floor in her toe shoes, as light as if she were
dancing on clouds. “I hate to admit it, but she's good,” Rochelle remarked. “
Really
good.”

Liberty put her hands over her ears. “I am not listening to this! It's bad enough we have to be in this silly show. Now I have to play second fiddle to one of the Stinky Feet?”

Bria nodded. “I'm used to it. My sister is amazing at everything she does. I'm always a step behind her.”

Scarlett glanced over at Gracie, who was twirling around the stage, holding a red-and-gold painted nutcracker in her hands as the rest of the children in the party scene reached for it. It felt strange for her to play “second fiddle” to her little sister. In the past, it had always been Scarlett who was in the lead. Now Gracie was getting all the attention.

“Like this?” she asked Marcus as she pretended to cradle the nutcracker in her arms like a baby.

“Exactly!” he replied. “You're worried about the Nutcracker being broken. You're sad that he's hurt.”

Gracie's eyes welled with tears. “It's okay, little Nutcracker,” she whispered. “I'm here.” Her face looked both tender and brave.

Mr. Minnelli dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief. “Lovely, just lovely,” he said. “You're a natural actress. The rest of you, please stand on the sidelines while we go over Clara and the prince's duet. You,” he said, pointing to Hayden, “you stand in for the prince.”

Scarlett shuffled off to a corner. This was not going to be easy. Rochelle read her mind. “How do you think I feel?” she whispered. “I wanted those roles so badly for me and Hayden.”

“Why do you think the Nutcracker Prince is MIA?” Bria asked them. “Mr. Minnelli hasn't said a word about who he might be.”

“I bet it's some big-time ballet star,” Anya said, speculating. “Like Chase Finlay or Jared Angle.”

Rochelle shrugged. “I don't know who either of those dudes are, but who do you think that little pip-squeak is?” She pointed to the studio
entrance, where a tiny boy in a fedora hat was standing with his mother. His nose was pressed up against the glass door.

Mr. Minnelli noticed him at the same time. “Ah, yes! Here at last! Please come in!” He motioned for the boy to enter the studio.

“Everyone,” Mr. Minnelli announced, “I would like you to meet Olivier Mason from Central Delaware Youth Ballet. He is going to be our Nutcracker Prince!”

Rochelle's jaw dropped to the floor. “Seriously? This little munchkin is the prince? Is he even out of diapers yet?” She gazed over at Hayden, who looked just as shocked. Mr. Minnelli had practically shoved him to the side to make room for Olivier.

Bria elbowed her. “Check it out.”

Olivier was extending his hand for Gracie to shake it. “It's a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

Gracie scratched her head. “Um, hi, Oliver,” she replied.

The boy pulled his hand away. “No, not
Oliver.
Oh-liv-ee-ay
. Like the famous actor Laurence Olivier.”

Gracie's face lit up. “Oh, I get it! O-live-ee-YAY! Cool name!”

The boy seemed pleased and took his spot next to Gracie.

Scarlett chuckled. No wonder they chose her little sis to play Clara. They needed someone who was actually shorter than the prince!

Olivier took off his hat and began stretching out on the floor. “His feet are pretty sick,” Rochelle commented. “Look at that arch! And he's so flexible.” They watched as the little boy did an effortless split, then pressed his forehead to his knee.

Anya nodded. “He's like a human pretzel. Impressive, I gotta admit.”

Liberty had been silent the entire time. “This ballet is a joke,” she barked. “Clara and the prince look like they belong in kindergarten, and I'm playing a walking pastry!”

“A cookie, technically,” Bria corrected her. “Gingerbread men are cookies.”

Liberty practically snarled at her. “If it weren't for Toni's stupid rule that we had to do this show, I'd be out the door.”

As much as she hated to agree with her, Anya felt the same way. “Better a cookie than a rodent.”

The gingerbread scene was the most comical in the ballet. As lead gingerbread, Liberty had to duck under Mother Ginger's huge hoop skirt and leap out at the audience.

“Let me get this straight,” Liberty said, complaining to Marcus. “You want me to crawl on the floor under some granny's skirt and then pop out and make a complete fool out of myself ?”

Marcus rested his hands on his hips. “If you choose to make a complete fool out of yourself, then that's your decision. I expect you to burst onto the stage exuding joy and excitement. If you can't handle that, there's the door.”

“Ooh, I like him,” Rochelle whispered to Scarlett. “Anyone who disses Liberty gets my vote!”

“Fine,” Liberty said, taking her place. “I am a professional.”

“The lead gingerbread has to really ham it up,” Miss Noreen instructed her.

“That won't be a problem for Liberty.” Rochelle chuckled.

Miss Noreen showed her the choreography, a combination of
arabesques, pirouettes
, and something that resembled a waddling penguin.

“Elbows should be shoulder level, palms open wide,” she demonstrated.

The other gingerbread dancers looked cute and funny as they raced around the studio. Liberty looked mean and ornery and practically bit Mother Ginger's head off when she got too close.

“Gingerbread don't growl,” Marcus corrected Liberty. “You're supposed to be smiling.”

“I'm supposed to be Clara,” Liberty muttered under her breath. “This is totally humiliating.”

At the end of the scene, Liberty had to turn
her back to the audience so Mother Ginger could give her a playful kick.

“No way,” Liberty said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I am not getting my butt kicked in a ballet.”

“Oh, this is a dream come true!” Rochelle roared with laughter.

Scarlett was enjoying every minute of the dance as well—especially when Liberty had to do a somersault and land facedown on the stage with her arms and legs wide apart.

“Gingerbread go SPLAT!” Anya said, cracking up.

“This is a riot!” Bria added. “I'm gonna post it on Instagram!”

Liberty spotted her teammates laughing at her and stopped in her tracks.

“It's not funny!” she screamed at them.

“No, it
is
funny,” Marcus insisted. “It's brilliant. Liberty, you have great comic timing. I could see you playing Coppélia one day.”

Liberty's scowl softened. “Wait. Really?”

“Absolutely,” he answered. “It'll be even funnier when we get you in the big brown suit.”

Liberty rolled her eyes. Even if Marcus thought she had prima ballerina potential, this was the most embarrassing role she had ever danced.

“About the costume,” she said to Marcus. “Would you mind if I made a few tweaks? My mom just met Katy Perry at a party in Hollywood, and I know Katy would be totally cool with lending me some of her wardrobe …”

“Yes,” Marcus huffed.

“Yes, I can call Katy?”

“Yes, I would mind if you tweaked your costume. I am the director and I am the only person who tweaks anything around here. Now, get your butt back on the floor—literally.”

Gracie wasn't paying much attention to Liberty's tantrums. She and Olivier were getting along fabulously—thanks to an icebreaker that Miss Noreen insisted they play to get to know each other.
While the others rehearsed, they sat in a corner, asking each other crazy questions.

“What's the grossest pizza you ever tasted?” Olivier challenged Gracie.

“Oh, that's an easy one: barbecue chicken with marshmallows.”

“Eww!” Olivier cracked up. “Now you go.”

“Funnest day ever?” Gracie asked.

Olivier tapped his finger to his nose. “Give me a sec. I'm thinking …”

“Ten seconds,” Gracie warned him. “Miss Noreen said ten seconds to answer.”

“Catching a foul ball at the Wilmington Blue Rocks game and eating six hot dogs at Frawley Stadium. I could have gone for seven, but my mom worried I'd throw up.”

Gracie's eyes widened. “You like hot dogs?”

Olivier nodded. “With ketchup, relish, onions, mustard … the works.”

It was as if he had said the magic words. In Gracie's mind, no food on the planet could top hot dogs. Her dad always made them for her on
his backyard grill. She could eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and never get bored.

“I love hot dogs,” she gushed. “My record is nine—but the last one had no bun, so I don't think that really counts.”

“Nuh-uh.” Olivier shook his head. “For the official count, it has to be bunned. Maybe we can have a dog eat-off sometime?”

Gracie smiled and they pinky swore on it. Clearly, Mr. Minnelli had been right in casting them together. It was a match made in hot dog heaven.

That night at dinner, Scarlett could hardly get a word in as Gracie told her mom all about the first rehearsal.

“I get to do a dance with the dolls, Mommy,” she said. “And the Nutcracker eats hot dogs with ketchup!” She dipped a fish stick in a puddle of ketchup to illustrate.

Their mom looked confused. “Aren't nutcrackers supposed to eat nuts, honey? Isn't that the point?”

“She means Olivier, the boy who's playing the Nutcracker,” Scarlett explained. “They're two
of a kind. He's seven, short, and he's a hot dog freak like Gracie.”

“We are not freaks,” Gracie protested. “Plus, he said he'll be eight in two weeks and he's not short—he's taller than me.”

“By an inch maybe!” Scarlett chuckled. “It was absolutely hilarious, Mom! Marcus, the director, was shouting for them, and they were right there under his nose. He just had to look down to see them!”

Her mom tried not to laugh. “It sounds adorable, Gracie. Really.”

“You're just making fun of us because you're jealous,” Gracie fired back at her sister. “You wanted to be Clara, and I got the part because I'm better than you are!”

Scarlett was about to toss back an insult, when she considered what Gracie had said. Was it possible that she was right? That she was, in fact, a better dancer? In all these years, she'd always been the better one, but now Gracie was getting good—very good. Didn't landing this lead role in
The Nutcracker
prove it?