Step Up and Dance (6 page)

‘Hey, Saph!' Two lockers up from me was Zoe. She was one of those bubbly, bouncy kind of girls. ‘Are you and Jay …' She glanced up the corridor, watching Jay's head above the crowd of kids.

‘Are we what?' I said gruffly. This Friday morning was turning out way worse than I had expected.

Zoe was beaming at me. ‘Are you, well . . . you know?'

‘Not on your life.' I looked past Zoe, trying to find Summer in the crowd.

‘Well, do you mind if I …'

‘Go for it. Knock yourself out.' I walked off, frowning.

‘Saph! Glad to have you on the team,' said Mr Sandown when I passed him in the yard at lunch. He pointed to his clipboard and nodded with satisfaction.

‘Um . . . sorry, sir?' I took a bite of apple, and a flick of juice landed on his arm. Oops. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘Hi, Mr Sandown!' screeched some of the Year 7 kids as they charged past.

Mr Sandown pointed at the clipboard again. ‘Didn't pick you as the basketball type. But the girls are always looking for more players.'

‘Basketball?' I shook my head, like the ‘dumb bimbo' that Jay took me for. ‘There must be …'

Suddenly I smelled a rat. A rat with long legs and a red cap. I stopped chewing and peered at the list of names.

Jay hadn't even spelt my surname right, but I could pick his handwriting a mile away.
So the jokes just keep on coming, do they, Jay? Har de har har
. . .

‘When's training?' I asked.

‘Next Wednesday lunchtime. On the basketball courts,' Mr Sandown said.

‘Cool! See you there, sir.' I gave him a brilliant smile, even though he was too serious to enjoy it.

Mr Sandown nodded like an army captain.

I walked off, feeling a surge of energy through my limbs.
So, Jay thought that I couldn't play basketball, did he? Thought I knew nothing about the game? Well, I'd show him a thing or two. I'd sat through enough games to know how it all worked. Grab the ball
. . .
bounce bounce bounce
. . .
throw it to another player. Or better yet, throw it through the basket. Didn't look too hard.

On the way past a rubbish bin, I threw in my apple core and smiled at the satisfying
tunk
as it landed.
Yeah, I was fit, I was athletic. Jay didn't have any idea how tough a dancer's body really is. Basketball, eh? Okay, bring it on.

This was getting interesting.

CHAPTER
4

‘Magic! Magic! Magic!'

On Saturday night a chant sprung up as soon as the Charms ran onto the court. It was awesome. There was a kind of electricity in the air, pulling the crowd forward in their seats and lifting their hopes to the ceiling.

Lesley's pep talk before the game had tipped us off that this was a big one. ‘If Magic wins, then we get an extra game in the quarterfinals. So cheer your butts off, people!'

The new opening number was weeks away from being ready, so tonight we were scheduled to do the old one. We'd been doing it for so long that it was as automatic as breathing. But I still loved it. Dancing it was like pulling on an old pair of jeans and not having to check how your bum looks in the mirror.

Doof, doof, doof, doof

… As soon as the music started, the chanting fell away and we sprang to life. Well, our pompoms did, really. Bam, bam, bam, shake. Over, over, up and shake . . . while the guys did punches in the air.

Out we fanned into two circles, one within the other. Then, just like hundreds of times before, the two circles moved in opposite directions as we leapt around.

Aaaaah, aaaaah
. . .
doof, doof, doof
. . .

The electricity in the air reached inside me and gave my limbs a new kind of strength. Each leap felt higher than ever, each split felt harder.

The girls peeled off into formation, with me and Megan in the front. Now we started into the sequence again, for about the six hundred and seventy-first time. Bam, bam, bam, shake. Over, over, up and shake . . .

Except this time, something was different.

As I circled my pompoms over, smiling up at the crowd, it suddenly dawned on me that Jay was among them. That annoying, smug practical joker was out there. Watching.

Normally, when I'm on court it's like I'm dancing in a glass cocoon. The trick is to smile in the general direction of the crowd, but not actually
look
at any of them. But tonight, all because of Jay, the glass was gone. What was he thinking right now?

Aaaaah, aaaaah
. . .
doof, doof, doof
. . .

Shake went my pompoms, as I smiled up at the crowd, scanning for that red cap above that familiar tanned face. It didn't seem fair that he could see me when I couldn't see him.

As I danced and scanned, I started to notice other things too. A lady breastfeeding her baby in the second row. Two men gesturing and arguing on the steps. And the uni guys in the first row.

As I watched the uni guys, one leaned in and said something to his friend, all the while looking at me. The friend looked my way, and nodded.

Around went my pompoms again, but I wasn't thinking about the dance. What had that guy said to his friend? Did he like how I danced? Did he like how I looked? Maybe he had noticed that my eyebrows were crooked . . .

I flicked my hair, shook my pompoms and smiled at the front row. The uni guy was sitting low in his seat with his arms crossed, watching me.

Our eyes met. It was just a subtle thing, the difference between looking and actually seeing I suppose, but he must have noticed it too because, just slightly, his mouth opened. For that split second we held each other's gaze. His eyes were a light kind of blue.

Aaaaaah, aaaaaah
. . .

If I had been at school or down the street I would have flashed him a brilliant smile, or giggled, or done something even more embarrassing because of what had just happened.

But as it was, I had a job to do. A very public job.

I broke his gaze and moved to my place in the inside circle for the final set of leaps. Run run, leap . . . run run, leap . . .

Around I leapt, wondering if my hair still looked okay, and pondering the fact that I seemed to be developing a fetish for older men.

But I didn't get a chance to think about it any more, because suddenly everything felt wrong – no one beside me was where they should be, the music was going
aaaaaaah
, when I was expecting
doof doof
, and Abe was in front of me instead of to my side – all dead giveaways that I was in a dancer's worst nightmare.

I was out of formation.

Oh no
. . . An awkward stumble, a glance around to pick up the timing, then I was leaping again. As Abe passed me in her leap, her eyes went wide and angry. I heard her too – the swear words weren't as bad as the way she spat out my name at the end.

Cheeks tight, eyebrows high . . . smile smile SMILE.

When the number ended, I ran for our place behind the Magic basket and sat in position, feeling like a beetroot in a sequin skirt.
Not now, Saph. Not in front of the uni guys
. . .

The rest of the troupe sat in their places.

‘What happened?' whispered Megan, front and centre.

I shook my head at the tangled strands in my pompoms, sucking in air.

The first ball went up and the game started, giving me a chance to calm my pounding panic.

Oooh yeah!

Magic scored the first basket, and we shook our pompoms in the air.

‘What the hell was that, Saph?' Abe whispered.

We're not meant to talk during play, but Lesley has developed a way for us to communicate without making it obvious – to make sure that we know the next time-out, or whether to cheer from sitting or jump up and go wild. What Lesley doesn't know, though, is that we use the same technique to chat during the game.

‘Lay off, Abe …' Megan kept her head facing forward, watching the game, speaking just loud enough for the others to hear. ‘She's only sixteen, remember?'

But Abe wasn't ready to forgive. ‘Sweet sixteen? Makes us all look bad.'

For the rest of the game I held my head high and danced like a pro, smiling as though nothing had gone wrong. I stopped looking for people too. Not Jay, not the uni guys, and definitely not Lesley. What was she going to say?

‘Guess who I've been talking to, ladies!'

After the game, Lesley burst into our changing room on a high. Magic had won in a landslide. But I knew that wasn't going to save me. I stayed in my corner, trying to blend into the brick wall. Not easy when I was covered in fake tan and glittering sequins.

‘
Oooo
nly the marketing manager for Sportscraft.' Lesley enclosed a half-naked Megan in both arms and squeezed. ‘She's interested in sponsorship!'

The room erupted into squealing – talk of corporate gigs and free costumes. But I stayed out of it all, cramming my costume into any old bag and rehearsing in my mind a sneaky escape from the dressing room – somehow
without
Lesley seeing me go.

But when I stood up, there was Lesley, fanning her red cheeks and frowning. ‘Now, Saph. Do we have a problem?'

A tense hush fell over the room. All I could hear was Bec blowing her nose in the shower.

‘Sorry, Lesley.' I stood tall, like the victim of a firing squad, looking her straight in the collarbone. ‘No problem. I won't do it again.'

‘Good.' Lesley cupped my face in her hand. ‘We've got people watching us now, Saph.
Important
people. I don't want them to see any problems.'

I nodded, finding it hard to breathe and apologise at the same time. ‘I know. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I'm really sorry …'

Lesley smiled. ‘Let's see that it doesn't.' Then she kissed me on the forehead and disappeared out the door.

I did a half-groan, half-sigh and let my shoulders drop, resisting the urge to crumple to the floor. The tense bodies around me slowly started moving again.

‘Do we get better pay for corporate gigs?' asked Abe from in front of the mirrors.

‘Hope so!' said someone else.

At least I was able to breathe now. At the mirrors I unzipped my make-up bag and slowly started taking off the goop. Cold cream first, then careful soothing strokes as I wiped away the grime. It felt good to remove that stuff and find my own skin underneath it all. Here I am again. Still me.

I could feel Abe watching my reflection. ‘You okay?' she asked in a grumpy way.

I shrugged. ‘Kind of deserved it, didn't I?' Then I threw some tissues in the bin and turned to look at Abe – the real Abe, not her reflection. ‘I know I made you look bad, Abe,' I said. ‘I'm really sorry.'

She glanced at me with a nod and a small smile. Then she leaned in to her reflection – touching up rather than taking off her make-up. ‘Well, Saph, the way you dance sometimes makes me look better than I deserve. So I reckon we're even.'

A snort from me. Without make-up it was easy to see my cheeks flush red. But I was glad that everything was okay again with Abe and me.