Step Up and Dance (15 page)

Instead, I wobbled.

It wasn't a cute little baby wobble either, it was the titanic wobble of the century. As my stomach relaxed in a chuckle, my back let out, dipping my leg and tipping me face first into the floor.

As my hands shot out to catch myself on the court, I heard a gasp from the crowd.

Get up, Saph. Just get up.

A gulp. Off the floor. Now listening again for the next cue in the song.

My cheeks were hot, my neck burning beetroot red. I gulped down the rising panic in my chest, moving forwards into the new formation. Megan was at the point, then Bec and me. Next came a row of three girls, with the two guys in their own row at the back.

That stupid stupid whistle
. . .

I kept up with the troupe, staying tight in my place – hip roll, head flick, sexy, sassy Saph.

I made it through okay. But it wasn't easy. Sassy smiles are pretty hard when you just want to throw up.

At half-time Megan rested a sleek arm around my shoulders as we walked up the corridor. ‘We did it, Saph. I can't believe we did it!'

‘Yeah.' I managed a small smile. Megan mustn't have seen my death wobble. Was there a chance, perhaps, that Lesley had missed it too?

‘And I saw the red light on the camera halfway through the opener.'

Behind us, I heard Bec laugh and felt her arm on top of Megan's around my neck. ‘About fifteen seconds, girls,' she said, breathless with glee. ‘Man that was good!'

Abe was already in the changeroom, dressed in the new costume and ready for the second half. At least it fitted now. As I walked past she lifted one hand. ‘That whistle, Saph. What was that?'

But I kept going, past the plate of sandwiches, ready to hide in my miserable corner.
If it wasn't for that stupid whistle. Stupid, stupid Jay
. . .

I didn't get to hide for long.

Bang went the changeroom door. There was a second of rustling movement, then Lesley was there, eyes flashing. She seemed to fill all the available space in the room. Her chest rose and fell as she panted in front of me.

I could see Abe to one side, watching closely. The others were peering at the sandwiches on the snack tray.

‘Saph . . .' Lesley said, her voice quiet. She shook her head at me, still panting.

I bit my lips together, feeling the heat of tears in my eyes, strangling my throat.

Lesley's lips opened. ‘You . . . have . . . no . . .' She spoke slowly, her voice muffled. ‘No . . .' She heaved a sigh, and gestured crazily at me as if words escaped her.

Then she turned, threw her arms up, and left the room.

The tears started falling then, streaking through my make-up and landing on my bags as I tried to find a drink. What had Lesley started to say?

You have no
. . .
idea?

No sense of professionalism?

No place in the troupe?

Whatever it was, I knew it couldn't be good.
You have nothing to worry about, Saph. Everyone makes mistakes!

Yeah. As if.

Magic lost the game that night. Maybe I jinxed them. In the second half they were out-scored, out-played, pretty much out-everythinged.

And boy was I glad. They were out of the finals. Season finished.
All over, Rover.
And the same went for us too. At least I wouldn't have to stay at home on Saturday nights, watching for glimpses of the Charms on TV after Lesley kicked me off the troupe.

After the game, I grabbed my stuff and sneaked out fast. I didn't even answer when Megan called out, asking if I needed a lift.

A lift? No. I needed a new life.

I was so busy escaping Lesley that I didn't have time to think about what I'd say to Jay about his stupid whistle.

The carpark was hectic, busy with fans and cars, bright headlights and cold empty dark. Jay was leaning against his door of the four-wheel drive, long arms crossed, eyes cast down. I could see the shapes of his family waiting inside.

As I walked between the other parked cars, he moved to the back of the four-wheel drive, opening the door and stepping back while I put my bags inside.

‘That was a bad night,' Jay said, as if he was talking about one battle in a long hard war.

I pretended to care about my things – laying the costumes gently on top. Not that I'd ever be using them again. I bided my time, trying to calm the rolling ball of anger in my chest.

Everything I care about, everything I've worked for – he destroyed it all with one stupid whistle.

‘The whole season …' Jay was saying. Then he sighed, long and slow. ‘All over.'

All over
. . .
a lifelong dream.

‘Hey . . .' Jay tapped me lightly on the shoulder. ‘But that um . . . dance at the start. It was really cool.' His voice soft but close, reaching out to me. ‘I'm sorry about your ah . . . kick.'

Sorry? I clenched my jaw tight, staring hard at the plastic of my pompom bag like it was the most amazing thing in the world. I was so angry I could hardly breathe.

He was trying to say
sorry
!

But that wasn't enough for me right now. Dancing was my life. My dream. And he'd messed around with that as if dancing meant nothing. As if dancing were just some
bimbo
thing. Sorry wasn't ever going to cut through this.

‘Anyway, I suppose the season's over for you too.' He still had the same soft tone in his voice.

All over, Jay? If only you knew.
I spun around to face him then, fists clenched tight, shoulders ready for a fight. But when I looked up into his eyes, all I wanted to do was cry.

He was frowning, mouth soft – sad about Magic's loss. But Jay had no idea what I was feeling. Not really.

And that made it all so much worse.

Biting my bottom lip, I tilted my head down and pushed past Jay to my side of the back seat.

The whole way home, I stayed quiet, looking out the window and nodding sometimes about various parts of that horrid game, letting the ball of anger roll and grumble inside. All I could think of was getting home and calling Summer. She had been right about Jay all along.

When Jay's family dropped me home, I opened the front door quiet and slow, hoping to sneak into my room. Alone with my mobile at last.

I almost made it. But Dad caught up with me in the hall, moving faster than I'd seen him do for years.

‘Saph, we need to talk.' Somehow he managed to look tired and alert at the same time.

Great, stupendous, magnificent! That was all I needed. Could tonight get any better? I dumped all my bags and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

‘That new dance . . .' Dad's accent was thick. Was he blushing? Or was that the flush of fury on his cheeks? ‘I saw it on the television. You're too young to dance like that, Saph.'

I snorted and shook my head. He spent so much time trying to keep me little, he had no idea what was really going on in my life.

‘Yeah, maybe you're right.' Seeing as I was going to be chucked out of the troupe, it wasn't really worth the fight. Dad thought I was playing games.

‘I mean it, Saph, we have to talk about this.'

Again, I shook my head, feeling numb. A whole series of ‘nots' was running though my mind: not old enough, not genuine enough, not sexy enough. Not . . . never enough.

Dad was peering at me closely, his dark eyes flashing.

‘You know what, Dad? I'll quit. How do you like that?'

He leaned back slightly, eyes darting across my face as if I'd suddenly morphed into an alien. ‘Sapho . . .'

‘So there's nothing to talk about, okay?' I was already crying deep in my chest, holding it down there with effort. The words came out choked and whiney. ‘I'll never dance again; will that make you happy?'

Dad shook his head, confused.

I left him alone in the hall, a mess of bags at his feet. Then I shut my bedroom door quietly and let my tears start to fall.

CHAPTER
10

The next morning I woke up late, a brown smudge of foundation on my pillow, my mobile resting beside it because I'd been texting Summer late into the night.

We have to stop this
, Summer had sent some time around 2 am.
Get him back 4 good
.

I rolled onto my side and rubbed a crusty bit of mascara from the corner of my eye. Damien looked down at me from the back of my door – bushy hair, rounded shoulders, broad cheeks. I'd been to the moon and back since I'd first fallen for him. The man of my dreams? Not anymore.

Anyway, I was finished with dreams for good.

I pulled down the poster, not worrying when a corner tore, and crumpled it into my bin. It seemed so flimsy now.

Then I showered quickly. I didn't bother to put on fresh make-up after I'd washed off last night's. Grabbing a bag and a coat, I headed for the front door.

‘I'm going out!' I called at the kitchen.

Mum and Dad both appeared in the hall.

‘Saph …' Dad's voice was rough, worried.

I almost felt sorry for him. ‘I'm okay. Just going out with Summer.' I smiled, trying to show everything was fine. ‘I'll be back this afternoon.'

Mum jerked a nod, almost dropping the mug in her hands. Good. With a wave, I headed out the door.

I seemed to be escaping a lot these days – out of the changerooms last night, and now out of the house.

The funny things was, making Lesley happy with the new opener was a sure-fire way to make Dad mad. And being a good girl for Dad? That would mean an unhappy Lesley. But here was the pure genius of it all – in one spectacular night, I'd managed to upset both of them.

Well done, Saph. What a legend.

‘You won't have to do a thing,' said Summer. She lifted the lid off her take-away latte and sipped gently. ‘I'll do all the talking.'

We were sitting on the wooden railing next to the Sports Centre, watching cars pull up for the start of the Bats game. Deep in enemy territory.

I broke the top off my blueberry muffin (a present from Summer, my one true love!) and sank my teeth into the blueberry heaven.