by Sheryl Berk
Bria shoved her phone in Liberty’s face. “So is the Tiny Terror.”
“There’s no use talking about it now,” Scarlett reminded them. “We’re up next.”
“Why bother?” Bria sighed. “They are so much better than we are.”
“Do not let Toni hear you say that,” Scarlett said. “We have to do this for her. We can’t let City Feet win.” They all agreed and placed their hands one on top of the other in the center of a huddle.
“One-two-three-four,” chanted Scarlett.
“Dance Divas on the floor!” the other girls joined in.
“Five-six-seven-eight! Who’s the team that’s really great? DIVAS! DIVAS! Go, DANCE DIVAS!”
Chapter 9
And the Winner Is . . .
Scarlett knew the “Cyberbully” routine wasn’t a typical dance-competition number. Her costume was a red beaded leotard and sheer tights splattered in red paint. The other girls wore black leotards with “thorny” branches wrapped around their bare arms. It was risky to say the least; “artsy” is what her mom had called it. But Scarlett could never have predicted the audience’s reaction as the girls finished the routine. They carried her across the stage as the message “SIGNING OUT” flashed across the video screen behind them.
There was silence. Complete and utter silence. When they returned for their bows, the judges were still staring at the stage, dumbstruck.
“This is either really good or really bad,” Scarlett whispered to her teammates.
“That was so cool! Go, Scoot!” came a voice from the front row. Thank goodness for Gracie! Scarlett thought. The audience erupted in laughter, and the tension was broken. The crowd applauded enthusiastically, but Scarlett wasn’t sure if it was for their dance or for Gracie’s review.
Miss Toni waited in the wings, and as usual, her face was impossible to read. Had they messed up? Had they disappointed her? The girls braced themselves for her critique.
“I saw bent legs, girls, and Bria, you were a beat behind everyone else after the tour jeté.” She paused. “But overall, good job.” Then she walked back to the audience to wait for the award announcements.
“That’s it?” asked Liberty.
“That’s it,” Scarlett replied. “It wasn’t our best dance, but it wasn’t our worst, either.”
“I’d hate to see your worst,” said a small voice from the wings.
“Oh no!” Bria whispered, ducking behind Scarlett. “It’s the Tiny Terror!”
“Excuse me?” asked Scarlett. No seven-year-old was going to speak to her team that way.
“Nothing. I’m just saying I thought you guys would be serious competition. Our coach said so, but I guess she was wrong. I thought you were kind of lame.”
“Listen up, pip-squeak,” Liberty began. It was the first time Scarlett was actually glad to have Liberty on their side. “What’s lame is the circus act you call a dance routine. I hear Ringling Brothers might have a few openings in the clown department.”
Rochelle laughed out loud. “Good one, Lib!”
Mandy pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Oh yeah?” she said.
The Divas stared her down. It was clear she had no comeback, so she stomped away.
“Wow, you sure put her in her place, Liberty,” Scarlett said. “I didn’t think you cared about the team.”
“Of course, I do!” Liberty answered. “I mean . . . I guess.”
Rochelle draped her arm around Liberty’s shoulder. “I’m deeply touched,” she teased. “Seriously, thanks for putting that little brat in her place. She has a bigger mouth than you.”
“Oh no, she doesn’t.” Liberty smirked. “And you’re welcome.”
Scarlett’s mom found the girls backstage. “Ladies,” she said, “I hate to break up the fun, but they’re about to announce the winners of the Junior Solos.”
“Oh my gosh! That’s me!” Liberty raced back onstage.
“And you,” Rochelle said, and elbowed Scarlett.
“What’s the use? I’m not going to win any medals, unless it’s for best belly flop,” Scarlett said, trying to make a joke, but her hip and her pride still hurt.
The announcer took the envelopes from the judges and cleared his throat. “Third place in the Junior Solo category . . . Scarlett Borden, ‘In the Clouds,’ from Dance Divas Studio!”
“You did it!” Rochelle hugged her.
“It’s third place,” Scarlett said with a sigh, “not first. Miss Toni always says ‘It’s first or nothing,’ which makes me nothing.” But she stood up, shook the announcer’s hand, thanked the judges, and accepted her trophy.
“In second place, Phoebe Malone, ‘Get on Your Feet,’ City Feet Dance Studio!”
Scarlett grimaced. Miss Toni would not be happy that a City Feet girl had beaten her.
“And in first place in the Junior Solo category, Liberty Montgomery, ‘Wings,’ Dance Divas Studio!”
Liberty jumped to her feet and grabbed the trophy and tiara from the announcer.
“Way to go!” her mother shouted from the audience. Miss Toni was beaming as well.
“Next up . . . the winners for Junior Small Group,” the announcer continued.
Bria grabbed Scarlett’s and Rochelle’s hands and squeezed them tight. “This is it!”
Scarlett hated the suspense. At least let us place, she thought.
“In third place, ‘Sunny Side of the Street,’ by Puttin’ On the Ritz Dance Studio.”
Scarlett’s heart was beating so hard she could barely breathe. She didn’t need to look out in the audience to know that Miss Toni was on the edge of her seat, too.
“Second place, Junior Small Group, goes to ‘The Power of Love,’ by Dance Elite!”
“That leaves just first place!” Bria exclaimed.
“We’re toast.” Rochelle sighed.
Scarlett noticed that Mandy was watching them. The entire City Feet team looked as cool as cucumbers. One girl was reapplying her lip gloss; another was texting on her phone.
“Finally, the top prize for Junior Small Group performance. First place goes to . . .”
A hush fell over the room. You could hear a bobby pin drop. Scarlett felt as if the world was standing completely still, waiting for their names to be plucked out of the envelope.
“City Feet Dance Studio for ‘Hyperactive’ !” the announcer’s voice boomed through the ballroom.
The girls jumped to their feet and lifted Mandy high on their shoulders.
“Woo-hoo!” Mandy cheered. “We did it! We won!”
Scarlett applauded to show good sportsmanship, but inside she felt cold and empty. She actually shivered.
“We were robbed.” Liberty fumed. “Our dance was way better than theirs. At least my part of it was.”
“We lost. We have to face it,” Scarlett said sadly. “And worse, we have to face Miss Toni.”
Chapter 10
Sweet Revenge
Miss Toni sat in silence the entire bus ride back to New Jersey.
“She’s scaring me,” Rochelle remarked. “Why doesn’t she say anything?”
“Maybe she’s mad at us?” Bria suggested. “Maybe she’s going to kick us all off the team?”
Scarlett shook her head. “No, I don’t think she’d do that. I think she’s just as devastated as we are.”
Liberty was lying across the seat behind them, snuggling her poodle pillow. “Nope. I think she’s planning her revenge against that rotten team. Which is what we should be doing instead of sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Rochelle piped up. “You won first place in solos. You beat City Feet. Miss Toni is loving you.”
Liberty smiled. “Everybody loves me.”
“Not everybody,” Rochelle muttered under her breath.
“Maybe Liberty is right,” Scarlett said, considering the possibility. “I mean, what good is it feeling sorry for ourselves? We lost. What are we going to do about it?”
Libe
rty yawned. “Personally, I’m going to get some sleep.”
Bria placed her head on Scarlett’s shoulder. “Me, too.”
Rochelle stretched out across a seat in front of them. “Me, three.”
But Scarlett couldn’t sleep a wink. Her mind was too busy going over the group number: every step, every turn, every detail. She thought that if she could just understand where they had gone wrong, it would make her feel better. She could close this chapter in the book and move forward. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the girls carrying her on their shoulders and feeling the sensation of floating weightlessly in the air.
“We’re home, girls,” her mom said, gently waking her as the bus pulled in front of the Dance Divas studio.
“What a day!” Mrs. Montgomery said. “Wait till I tell Madonna that Liberty won! She’ll be so thrilled!”
Scarlett’s and Bria’s moms were less enthusiastic.
“I feel drained,” Scarlett’s mom said. “I’m glad it’s over.”
Scarlett looked into her dark-brown eyes. “Sorry, Mommy,” she said. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me? You didn’t disappoint me, honey!” she insisted. “You gave it your all. You know you can’t win every competition.” She swept a red curl out of Scarlett’s eyes and tucked it behind her ear. “You have to let the other teams win a few trophies, right?”
“Not City Feet!” Rochelle said, gathering her bags. “That is one team I NEVER want to see win again.”
“That is one team I never want to see again . . . period,” Liberty said. “I’ve had enough of Mean Justine and her Tiny Terror.”
Scarlett suspected Miss Toni felt the same. As they piled off the bus, Toni didn’t say a word to the Divas or their moms. Not even good night.
Scarlett wasn’t sure what to expect Monday afternoon in dance class. The last thing she saw coming was a giant candy bar!
“What in the world is that?” Liberty gasped as Miss Toni strolled into the studio carrying an enormous wooden chocolate-bar prop. She leaned it against the wall, dusted off her hands, and placed them on her hips.
“Does anyone know what this is?” she asked.
“Um, about a dozen cavities?” Rochelle joked.
“A huge bellyache?” Bria suggested.
“King Kong’s snack?” Liberty threw out.
Toni shook her head. “No, no, and no. It’s sweet revenge. Which is what we’re going to get this weekend when we face City Feet again.”
The girls looked at each other, confused, then at their dance teacher.
“We don’t get it,” Scarlett said, speaking for the team. “What’s this weekend?”
“This weekend is the Feet on Fire dance competition in Hershey Park. I was able to get us in last minute, which means we’re going head-to-head with your favorites again.”
“Oh no!” Bria cried. “So soon?”
Miss Toni ignored the protests. “That gives us just five days to learn a new group routine, perfect it, and make the costumes. Warm up and be ready to go in five.”
Scarlett wasn’t sure what to think of the news. Part of her was terrified to lose again, but part of her really wanted the opportunity for Dance Divas to prove they were the best.
“I can’t believe I have to see that pip-squeak Mandy standing on her head again!” Liberty said.
“Oh yeah.” Rochelle remembered. “Mandy! We can’t compete with those crazy acro moves. Who are we kidding?”
“Wait a sec,” Scarlett said, racing out the studio door. Gracie was standing on a bench with her nose pressed against the studio window.
“Gracie, come here!” she called.
“Me? You want me to go in there?” her little sister asked. It was the first time Scarlett had ever invited her into a rehearsal space. Most of the time she had to sit outside, waiting for Scarlett’s dance class to end so they could go home. “Won’t Miss Toni be mad?”
“I think she’s going to be really, really happy. Hurry up!”
She ushered Gracie inside the studio and instructed her to take off her shoes. Then she dragged over a padded mat and set it in front of the room.
“Scarlett,” Miss Toni snapped. “You know I have rules about siblings staying outside . . .”
“Wait! Please! Just let her show you something!” Scarlett pleaded.
Miss Toni put down her clipboard. “Fine. You have one minute.”
Scarlett turned to Gracie, who was staring wide-eyed at the dance coach. “I told you she’d be mad at me!” she said, and gulped. “Can I go now?”
“No!” Scarlett said. “We need your help! Please! Just show everyone your awesome cartwheels and side aerial.”
Gracie shook her head. “But Miss Toni—”
Scarlett grabbed her sister by the shoulders. “Gracie, I am begging you! This is your chance to be a Dance Diva!”
Gracie nodded at her sister. Then she walked to one corner of the mat, took a deep breath, and dove into an impressive gymnastics floor routine. It was kind of wild but also kind of wonderful. Scarlett smiled—it was very Gracie.
“OMG!” Bria exclaimed. “She’s good.”
“She’s great!” Scarlett said. “And with the right training—”
Miss Toni finished her thought: “We could have our own Tiny Terror.” Then she turned to Gracie. “How would you like to be a Dance Diva?”
Gracie nodded her head and smiled. “Awesome!”
“You’ll have to work hard . . . harder than you’ve ever worked before . . . and do absolutely everything I tell you. Clear?” Toni added.
The little girl clapped her hands and jumped up and down. “Yes! Yes! Oh my gooshness, I’m gonna be a Diva!”
“Then welcome to the team,” Miss Toni said. “Take your place on the floor next to your sister, and let’s get down to business.”
Over the next few days, the Divas spent hours in the studio, learning the intricate choreography Miss Toni had created to crush their competition. She rolled in a TV on a table with a DVD player.
“Cool! Are we gonna watch a movie?” Gracie chirped.
“Is there popcorn?” Liberty asked.
Miss Toni clapped her hands. “Enough,” she said. “This isn’t movie night. We’re going to study the competition. I want to show you why City Feet won last week—and why they’re going to continue to win unless we do something about it.”
She hit Play, and last week’s dance routine popped onto the screen. “See how perfectly in sync they all are?” Toni pointed to the screen. “Phoebe has flawless technique—look at that intensity and confidence.”
“I have intensity and confidence,” Liberty piped up.
“You can say that again,” Rochelle muttered.
“But you don’t have that natural turnout,” Toni pointed out. “Or that effortless grand jeté.”
Scarlett had to admit: they were pretty amazing. Next to City Feet, Dance Divas looked like a big hot mess.
“Mandy is a powerhouse,” Miss Toni continued. “She’s young, but she goes for it, a hundred and ten percent.” She looked over at Rochelle. “I don’t see that from all of you.”
After an hour of analyzing City Feet’s performance, Miss Toni was pretty fired up.
“Everyone, on your feet!” she said.
Rochelle groaned. “It’s going to be a long night. I can feel it.”
They ran their routine over and over, trying to get the moves smooth and in sync. But that wasn’t all. Thanks to the DVD, Miss Toni now wanted to see “projection.”
“How do I project being a candy bar?” Rochelle complained.
“That should be easy for you . . . You’re nuts!” Liberty smirked. “Get it? A candy bar with nuts?”
“Then clearly you should be a sour candy,” Rochelle tossed back. “That’s not a stretch.”
“Guys, cool it. Miss Toni . . . ,” Scarlett whispered.
But Miss Toni was way too busy picking apart the team’s technique to pay attention to any squabble
s between the girls. “I want to see razor-sharp kicks—no bent knees!” she screamed over the music. “Push! Push! Push!”
The number, “Sweet Revenge,” was an acro dance filled with tricks and splits, set to a rapid-tempo disco tune. In the center of the stage would be Gracie, catapulting herself into a succession of flips. “Let me see that cartwheel,” Miss Toni instructed her. “Now back handspring!”
“I can do a lot of them!” Gracie obliged, cartwheeling across the entire studio floor.
“Not bad, not bad,” her coach replied. “But, Gracie, you have to control your energy and your movements. You have to focus them so they’re precise and contained. Got it?”
Scarlett chuckled. If Toni thought she could control Gracie’s energy, good luck! Her mom always said that trying to make Gracie sit still was like trying to hold a wet bar of soap in your hands. It always slipped out from between your fingers.
“Do you think we’ll win this weekend?” Gracie asked Scarlett.
Honestly, Scarlett didn’t know. City Feet was a force to be reckoned with, and she wasn’t quite sure the Divas were ready to take them on again.
“We’ll try our hardest,” she told Gracie. She was relieved that Gracie was acting like a team player who wanted to help Dance Divas—not just skip off and play with her Barbies.
“Good.” Gracie smiled. “ ’Cause I really want to win a big trophy. Or a crown. A crown would be so cool! I’d wear it all the time!”
Okay, maybe Gracie had some ulterior motives. But Scarlett suspected Miss Toni did as well. She knew that this weekend’s competition wasn’t just about beating City Feet. It was about beating Justine.
Chapter 11
Candy Couture
Beating City Feet wasn’t the only thing the Divas had to worry about. Miss Toni instructed each of them to decorate a costume with real candy: Kisses, gummy bears, licorice, anything that could be stitched or hot-glued on to give their outfits “sweet appeal.”
Gracie was excited. She loved a craft project. “Yum!” she said, pouring bags of treats on the floor of their living room. Her mom had found Halloween candy on sale at the supermarket. “What about gummy worms? Or these?” She held up a black licorice spider.
