Friday Night Stage Lights

by Rachele Alpine

  Chapter 35

  I showered and changed in record time and met Logan in the kitchen. He was drinking a glass of orange juice and talking about football with Stephen.

  “Do you have a bike?” Logan asked when we stepped outside.

  “Of course I do,” I replied.

  Logan shrugged. “You never know. You may dance everywhere.”

  I didn’t even give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I headed toward my garage, where the black-and-gray bike I’ve had since I was a kid sat, having collected dust since we’d moved. I strapped on my helmet and rode a circle around him.

  “So where are we going?” I asked, curious about our next adventure.

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “We just need to get moving. We have a very important group of people waiting on us.”

  When Logan and I entered the park a few blocks from my house, I spotted some boys from both the middle school and high school football teams. But while they stood together talking in a group near a picnic table, it was a group of tiny little humans that came running toward us. It turned out that the people counting on us were way shorter and way younger than what I’d expected.

  “Logan! Logan!” the group of young boys yelled, as they surrounded us. Logan greeted each of them by name. The boys jumped up and down and were so happy to see him.

  “Brooklyn, this is the Mighty Mites kindergarten team. They’re some of the best football players in Leighton,” he said as the kids grinned at him. “And, boys, this is my friend Brooklyn. Do you know who she is?”

  My good mood instantly shifted. I bet he would introduce me as Tanner’s sister. You could tell these kids were in love with football, and I was sure they were all fans of my stepbrother.

  “Brooklyn is a ballerina. She dances on her toes,” Logan said.

  The boys’ eyes got wide and so did mine. Logan didn’t stop surprising me.

  “But today we’re lucky. Instead of dancing, she’s going to play with us.”

  “Play?” I asked and raised an eyebrow at Logan.

  Watching football, I could do. But playing? That was a whole different story.

  “I’ve never played football in my life,” I told him.

  “But you now know how, after I taught you. And that’s the next step to get you to respect the sport. If you play the game, you’ll understand how much really goes into it. It’s the same with ballet. I didn’t appreciate how much work it was until I was actually dancing.”

  He did have me there. I may have understood the game, but participating was a whole different story.

  Logan turned toward the boys. “What do you all think? Do you want Brooklyn to play with us?”

  The boys cheered.

  “What?” Logan asked. “I can’t hear you.”

  The boys cheered even louder.

  Logan turned to me. “Sorry, Brooklyn, the crowd has spoken. It looks like you’re going to have to get your game face on.”

  I held my hands up to get them to quiet down.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll give it a shot,” I said, which made them cheer louder. “But listen, I’m not promising that I’m going to be any good.”

  “You’ve got this,” Logan said and pulled me over to the older boys and a few men who must have been dads. There were boxes of red and blue flags, and Logan handed a blue one to me. “You can be on my team. I’ll talk you through everything. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “What exactly is all of this?” I asked as the rest of the group divided up.

  “It’s our weekly pickup game of football for the rec center. I played when I was their age and remember how awesome it was when the older football players joined us. So now I volunteer and play with them every Saturday morning.”

  My heart turned all warm and squishy inside as Logan talked about why he played with these boys. And they did look awfully cute, crowding around all the older players, all pumped up to play. Mia was right: Logan really was a nice person, and as crazy as it sounded, I was glad that he’d ended up being my partner. I would’ve never gotten to know him otherwise.

  “I’m pretty sure they all love football,” I said. “And it looks as if you’re inspiring a whole group of mini-Logans.”

  Logan laughed. “That’s my master plan. And then we’ll take over the world,” he joked. “So you’re ready to show them what you’ve got?”

  “I doubt I’ll be any good. . . .”

  “It’s not about being good. It’s about having fun, which is another reason why I love these games so much. The pressure is off to do anything but have a good time.”

  “Kind of like when Mary Rose lets us dance it out,” I told Logan. When he gave me a puzzled look, I explained. “A lot of times after a really long dance class where we’ve worked so hard we want to drop, she’ll put on a popular song, turn it up, and we’ll have one big fun dance party. It’s not about positions or technique. It’s about letting loose, being silly, and not caring what you look like.”

  “I love that idea,” he said.

  “Maybe we can dance it out after rehearsal one day,” I teased. “I bet you have some hidden moves I haven’t seen.”

  “Hey, I said I liked the idea. Not that I wanted to participate,” Logan said, but he smiled. It would be funny to see what he’d look like. Just like it was going to be funny to see how I played football. Scratch that. Not funny, hilarious.

  I followed Logan and a high school player named Colton to the huddle of little kids with blue flags. He got in the middle and began to give instructions to all of the boys. They gave their undivided attention to him, and I tried to follow what he was saying. My instructions were pretty simple. He assigned me to one of the kindergarteners on the other team and told me not to let him get past me if he had the ball.

  “If he tries, grab one of his flags.”

  “Should I go easy on him?” I asked as the two of us headed toward the field.

  “You won’t need to,” Logan said.

  “Right,” I said. “Like a group of kindergarteners are going to cream me.”

  “Just you wait,” Logan warned with a grin that made me a tiny bit uneasy.

  “Okay, sure,” I told him and headed to the field. Marquis, one of Tanner’s friends on the high school team, tossed the ball to another player, and the game started. It wasn’t long before I realized Logan was right. These boys might be little, but they had a lot of heart and gave it their all.

  I tried to guard the redheaded boy named Charlie who Logan had assigned to me, but it was impossible to stop him. He was fast, turning right, then left, then pivoting and running away from me. This happened after every single play.

  Every single one. Ugh!

  I couldn’t stop the kid. I’d thought I was fast from ballet, but my skills were nothing compared to this boy’s. One time he even turned around and stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry at me as he ran away.

  After chasing him around for twenty minutes, I was tired, exhausted, and having a blast. Each time a team scored, the kids on that team would break into these goofy chants that had everyone laughing. We took the game just seriously enough for a little friendly competition, but beyond that, it was a whole bunch of silliness.

  “Why don’t more of the boys on the team do this?” I asked Logan. “These kids are awesome!”

  “They’re missing out. I like to think of these Saturday mornings as my little secret.”

  “This is the best-kept secret,” I told him. “And one of the best workouts I’ve had in a long time.”

  Logan nodded. “They may be little, but they’re quick.”

  “I think I underestimated the skill of these kids. But this is where it ends. What Charlie experienced until this point was my warm-up. Now it’s time to bring the thunder,” I told him.

  “The thunder?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m done playing Miss Nice Girl. Charlie isn’t getting past me.”

  I made my way back out to the field and stood in front of Charlie
. I gave him the toughest face I could, which must not have been that good, because he busted out laughing.

  “This means war,” I said under my breath. I couldn’t believe I was trying to play tough with a kindergartener, and if it weren’t happening right in front of me, I wouldn’t even believe it. But this kid wasn’t getting past me again, so I slanted my eyes, curled my lips, and gave a snarl, in hopes that might make me more intimidating.

  When the ball got passed to Charlie, I chased him down the field, running as fast as I could. I reached my arm out and tried to close that extra space I needed to grab one of the flags that were flapping off of him. I was so close. So very close. I stretched my arm more and as I felt the plastic of the flag in my hand, my foot slipped on a wet spot of grass and everything slid out from under me. I lost my balance and skidded across the grass. The side of my foot banged against the ground, and oh my gosh, did it hurt.

  I curled up into a ball and grabbed my foot. My ankle was throbbing, and it was impossible to keep the tears from coming out. The pain took my breath away. And that’s from someone who knows what pain is. I dance on my toes, and my feet are covered in blisters and calluses, so when I say it hurts, you better believe I’m telling the truth.

  I took my shoe off to relieve some of the pressure, and one of the little boys pointed at my ankle.

  “Gross! Look at how big her ankle is!”

  I glanced down, and he was right. It was huge and swelling by the second. It was almost double its size and was in fact pretty darn gross.

  Most of the boys gathered around me and inspected my ankle with looks of disgust and fascination. Great, I’ve become a science project. I tried to slow my breath; my body was still on overdrive from my attempt to get the flag.

  “Back up, please, and give me some room,” a voice said. One of the fathers kneeled down next to me. “Hi, Brooklyn. I’m Dr. Traina. Let’s check you out and make sure everything is okay.”

  “Thanks,” I said in a quiet voice.

  “I’m going to take a look at your ankle. I’ll be gentle, but let me know if I’m hurting you in any way.”

  “I’m tough,” I told him, but right now, I didn’t feel tough, especially when he picked my foot up to examine it. I clenched down on my teeth and told myself the pain would be over soon. The same as when I have to dance on a blister. It hurt for a moment, but once you pushed through it, the pain was forgotten.

  “That’s one banged-up ankle,” Dr. Traina said. “You were moving fast when you fell, so you had a lot of momentum.”

  “Are you doing okay?” Logan asked. He bent down next to me, and I could see worry in his eyes.

  “It hurts pretty bad,” I admitted and swiped at a few tears that were on my cheeks, because why bother looking tough? Especially when I didn’t feel like I was.

  “Do you think you can stand?” Logan asked. He offered his hand to me, and I slowly stood up. It hurt to take a step, but I could do it, as long as I was careful.

  “You probably want to have someone look at it,” Dr. Traina said. “Just to make sure it’s okay.”

  “I’m so sorry, Brooklyn,” Logan said. “I thought this would be fun. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I hope this doesn’t mess up your dancing.”

  “My dancing,” I slowly said. I was so focused on getting Charlie and then falling, that I hadn’t even thought about my dancing. My mind instantly went back to the recital, my sprained ankle, and how long I’d been out of dance.

  What the heck was I thinking playing football today?

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought about how this might affect the Showcase.

  I tuned out everyone around me. I couldn’t think about anything except my ankle and the question that I didn’t want to ask because the answer could be way too scary.

  Tears rolled out of my eyes, and I didn’t even bother to wipe them away. This wasn’t the time to be tough. I couldn’t, because what if I had done something? What if football really might ruin everything?

  Chapter 36

  Dr. Traina suggested I have someone come and pick me up, since I wasn’t exactly in the best shape to ride my bike home. That would have been a great idea, except when I went to call Mom, she didn’t answer, which was a bit ironic since the reason she’d let me have a phone was specifically so I could get ahold of her when I had an emergency. Her phone went to voice mail, and the same happened with Stephen. I could call Tanner, but with everything that had happened with Mia and the video, I didn’t really want to bug him to do me a favor. Sure, he said he was okay with everything, but I still felt bad bothering him on the weekend. But what other option did I have? I dialed his number on my phone and thankfully he picked up.

  “Brooklyn?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was playing football with Logan and—”

  “Wait, you were what?” he interrupted. “Did you say you were playing football?”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of a long story. I was with the Mighty Mites, and I fell and messed up my ankle pretty bad. Mom and Stephen aren’t answering their phone, so—”

  “I’ll come get you,” Tanner interrupted, putting me out of my rambling misery. “Where are you?”

  I told him the name of the park and not ten minutes later, I spotted his truck pulling into the parking lot. Logan waved him over and I tried to act tough, but that was next to impossible because it hurt so bad.

  “Are you okay?” Tanner asked, and I shook my head.

  “It really hurts. What if I’ve ruined everything? What if I can’t dance?”

  “We’ll have Damien look at it, and then we’ll deal with whatever comes next. I always find that’s the best way to approach an injury, even though that can be easier said than done.”

  “Damien?”

  “He’s the team’s trainer and my go-to guy when I get hurt. Even if it’s something minor, he’ll get you better right away. He’s in on Saturday mornings, so we’ll swing by and see if he can check out your ankle. I figured you might want to talk to him, since dancing is so important to you. I get how it is to be hurt and worried about how it’s going to affect you.”

  “Are you sure he won’t mind?” I asked, surprised that Tanner thought about me and ballet.

  “Positive. He works with athletes all day long. He’s the guy you want to see.”

  Athletes. I didn’t say anything to Tanner, but it was incredible to hear him group me into that category. There were so many people who didn’t look at dancers as athletes, especially in a town like this, where if you didn’t play football, then you didn’t need to bother playing a sport.

  We pulled into the parking lot at the high school, and I turned to Tanner, worried. “He’s really going to be okay with this?”

  “He won’t mind. We’ll tell him you have an important performance coming up, and we need to make sure you’re okay to dance.”

  There it was again. Tanner calling dance important. Of all the people I’d thought would respect ballet, he was one of the last ones. But people can sure surprise you sometimes.

  Tanner used a key card to get into the athletic center of the school.

  “Look at you with fancy VIP access,” I said and thought about how cool Mia would think this was. I could practically hear her begging me to “borrow” the key card so she could get some inside scoop about what the locker room looked like or something. But as suddenly as that thought came, it left me as I remembered what Mia had done, and I was left feeling deflated.

  “Some perks to being on the football team,” he said, and I wondered what other things he was able to do.

  Damien was the exact opposite of what I thought he’d look like. Instead of being big and full of muscles, he was skinny with long shaggy hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses. He had a bag of cheese curls open on his desk, where a computer sat with a video game paused on it.

  “Tanner, my man, is everything okay?”

  “Things are great with me, but not so much for my stepsister.” Tanner expl
ained to him what had happened, and Damien nodded as he talked. “So what do you think? Can you check her out?”

  “Definitely. We’ll see what we can do,” Damien said and got up. He stretched his hand out to shake mine, but pulled it back when he saw it was full of cheese dust. He wiped it on his pants and stuck it out again.

  “Sorry about that. Let’s try this again. I’m Damien, and I’m your go-to guy to fix you up. So you hurt your ankle?”

  I nodded and wonder how a skinny guy who ate cheese curls and played video games could work miracles on athletes, but if he could fix my ankle, I was willing to give it a shot. I was willing to give anything a shot if it meant I could dance.

  “I sprained it really bad about a year ago and couldn’t dance on it again for a long time. Then today, I was playing football and slipped on some wet grass.

  “Those football guys are tough, huh?” Damien asked as he inspected my ankle and rotated it.

  “Well, he was a kindergartener,” I answered, embarrassed.

  “That makes him even tougher!” Damien said. “Now, how does it feel when I move your ankle this way?”

  “It hurts, but not as bad as it did when I first fell.”

  “Good, what about if I bend it back?”

  He continued to ask me how different things felt, and when he was satisfied, he stepped back. “The good news is, everything is okay. You’re going to have a nasty bruise that might impress some of those kindergarteners, but as long as you keep your foot elevated and iced today and tomorrow, you should be able to dance on it within the next few days.”

  “Really?” I asked as hope flowed back through me.

  He held his hand out to help me off the table. “Brooklyn, you have specific orders from me to sit down on the couch and not get up unless you absolutely have to. Your prescription is nothing but rest, junk food, and movies. Do you think you can follow that?”

  “That doesn’t seem too hard,” I told him.

  Damien turned to Tanner. “You up for the job of making sure she does those things?”