Lola Levine and the Ballet Scheme

by Monica Brown

  “Oh no!” I say, and start to get up, reaching out to get the bottle. Bella grabs it first. I take a look at her and watch as she points the bottle straight at my purple tennis shoes.

  “Don’t even think about it!” I say, and I grab the bottle, too. For a second, nothing happens, but I guess we’re squeezing the bottle tight, because all of a sudden the top pops off and there is a big EXPLOSION of black dye.

  Everyone starts yelling, because even though Bella and I are the ones who are dripping with black dye, splatters of it have gone everywhere.

  “You ruined our shirts!” says Makayla.

  “What’s wrong with you?” says Alyssa.

  Even Ms. Garcia, the best teacher in the whole wide world, looks upset.

  “Lola! Bella! WHAT have you done?” she asks.

  “It was her fault,” Bella and I say at the very same time, pointing drippy black fingers at each other.

  I can tell Ms. Garcia is not happy with our answer. Uh-oh, I think. This can mean only one thing… Principal Blot.

  Chapter Four

  The Moms Meet

  Principal Blot takes one look at us and then sends us to the bathroom to clean up as best we can. We stand in front of the sinks and try to wash the dye off our hands and arms, and the sinks fill with black water. I watch Bella try to clean her skirt with water and a paper towel, but it just makes the color spread. I feel pretty bad.

  When we finally get back to the main office, I see my mom and a person who must be Ms. Benitez talking to Principal Blot in her office. The door is open, but I can’t hear what they are saying.

  “Oh no!” Bella says. “She called our moms?”

  “Yep,” I say. “But don’t worry. Principal Blot calls my parents all the time.” I don’t think that makes Bella feel better, though, because she looks like she’s about to cry. I give her back a little pat, like my mom does to me when I’m sad, and she doesn’t seem to mind.

  After what feels like a long time, Principal Blot comes out and says, “Lola, Bella, come on in.”

  We walk into the office and take a seat.

  “Ms. Garcia explained what happened in class today,” Principal Blot says. “Do either of you have something to say?”

  I look at Bella.

  “I’m sorry about your skirt,” I say, “but it was an accident. I tripped.”

  “It’s my favorite,” Bella says. “My abuelita gave it to me.”

  “I’m extra sorry, then,” I say, and I am.

  “I know,” Bella says with a sigh. “I’m sorry I squeezed the ink bottle so hard it exploded—I’m very strong because I do ballet.”

  “Actually, the ink bottle exploded because I squeezed it too hard. I play soccer, so I’m even stronger than you,” I say.

  “Actually,” Bella says in a not very quiet voice, “you’re wrong. I think—”

  “That’s enough, Bella,” Principal Blot interrupts, looking at each of us, and then our moms. “I think I see the problem.” Of course she sees the problem, I think. We are both covered in black dye!

  “But since you’ve both apologized and it was mostly an accident, you won’t be punished. But you do need to get home and change your clothes before coming back to school—that’s why I called your moms. We can’t have you soaking wet.”

  We all walk out together, and Ms. Benitez and my mom start talking in Spanish. Bella and I go get our stuff, and when we come back, they’re laughing and smiling and exchanging phone numbers. Bella and I look at each other with surprise. Our moms look like they are… scheming. “Scheming” is a fancy word for making a secret plan.

  On the way home, Mom surprises me.

  “Maria Benitez and I think you and Bella should get to know each other better,” she says. “You might find out you have more in common than you think.”

  “I already know Bella,” I say. “She likes pink and thinks dancers are better than soccer players!”

  “Well, we decided that it would be a good experience for each of you to try something new, so you, my darling, are going to attend one of Bella’s dance classes, and Bella is coming to one of your soccer practices. You might learn something.”

  “Are you joking with me?” I ask Mom.

  “No, not at all,” she says, smiling. I sure don’t see what there is to smile about, but I don’t tell Mom that.

  Dear Diario,

  So far, this is turning out to be a double-darn cow barn kind of week. Mom doesn’t like it when I say “darn,” so I usually just say “cow barn,” but today I asked her if I could write “darn” if it’s just in my diario, and she said yes. First, I’m supposed to co-captain the Orange Smoothies with Alyssa, the meanest girl in my school. Second, I don’t have anyone to dress like a twin with on Twin Day. I thought Josh was my super best friend, but I think maybe he’s not anymore. I tried ignoring Josh to let him know that my feelings are hurt, but he didn’t notice. He just picked me for his soccer team during recess like always. Finally, I got into trouble with a bottle of dye during art. Well, sort of. I had to go to Principal Blot’s office again, and now, thanks to my mom and her new best friend, Ms. Benitez, I have to go to a ballet class! Double-darn cow barn.

  Shalom,

  Lola Levine

  Chapter Five

  Sharks and Potatoes

  Today Bella is going to soccer practice with me. She comes home with me after school so that we can find her some soccer cleats that fit and lend her a pair of my shin guards. She also brings me a bag with a pink leotard and tights in it for her dance class on Saturday. I’m feeling pretty bad about ruining her skirt, so I say sorry one more time.

  “That’s okay,” say Bella, but I’m not sure she means it. We go up to my room.

  At first, Bella just stands there, looking at all the things I painted on my wall and ceiling. My room is purple with orange polka dots, and I’ve got flowers on my closet and stars on my ceiling. Then, she surprises me.

  “I like your room, Lola,” Bella says, and I see her smile for the very first time.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “It must be fun to have a dad who’s an artist,” she says.

  “It is,” I say. “He’s also my soccer coach.” I tell her about soccer and how we have a big game coming up against the Gray Sharks. Bella gets excited.

  “Did you know the word ‘shark’ comes from Mexico, which is where my family is from? It comes from the Mayan word xok, which you spell x-o-k, but sounds like the word ‘shock,’ like an electric shock!” says Bella. “My dad’s a professor, and he’s always teaching me about Mexican history.”

  “That’s so cool,” I say. “I want to shock the Gray Sharks next week,” I say, and we both laugh. Bella doesn’t even seem nervous when we get to practice, and I’m impressed. She’s really good at warm-ups, especially the flamingo—she can lift her heel to her bottom and stand on one leg, no problem.

  “Lola,” she asks while balancing, “do you like flamingos?”

  “Yes!” I say. “They’re so cool—they sleep standing up.”

  “Lola,” she says again with a grin, “what COLOR are flamingos?”

  “Pink,” I say, smiling.

  “Maybe you need to change your opinion about pink,” Bella says.

  “Maybe,” I say.

  Soccer drills are a lot harder for Bella, and she actually trips a couple of times. I feel bad, but she just gets back up and keeps going. We play a short game, and I tell her to play defense back near me, because then I can give her directions. I think she enjoys that more, especially because our side is winning by one. All of a sudden, Alyssa breaks through the midfield and is heading straight toward me. The only person between Alyssa and the goal is Bella.

  “Go get her!” I yell at Bella. “You can do it!”

  “What do I do?” she asks, running toward Alyssa.

  “Kick the ball away!” I say, and watch as Bella manages to kick the ball, but then tumbles forward and falls flat on her face in the grass. Coach Berg blows his whistle
. The scrimmage is over.

  I run out of the goal to check on Bella.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, helping her up.

  “I think I’ll stick to ballet,” she says, rubbing the mud stains from her knees and trying to fix her hair. She’s covered in grass. I’ve never seen Bella wear so much… green, but I decide not to say anything about it.

  “Did we win?” she asks.

  “Yes!” I say, smiling. “Thanks to you. People always say that it isn’t about winning or losing, but what they don’t say is that winning is a lot more fun.”

  “I agree,” says Bella.

  “I’ve got an idea,” I say. “Let’s see if I can get Dad to take us out for some after-practice french fries. Potatoes come from Peru, you know!”

  At school the next day, I write a note to Ms. Garcia.

  Dear Ms. Garcia,

  I am so sorry about messing up the tie-dye project.

  Sorry

  Oops

  Reckless

  Really wish I didn’t do that

  You are the best teacher in the whole wide world!

  Shalom,

  Lola Levine

  Ms. Garcia hands me a note at the end of the day.

  Dear Lola,

  Apology accepted. I’m very glad you and Bella are spending time together.

  Sincerely,

  Ms. Garcia

  The night before I’m supposed to go to Bella’s ballet class, I have a terrible nightmare. I dream that I’m trying to put on ballet shoes but don’t know how to tie up the ribbons and accidently tie my shoes together. When I stand up to dance, I fall flat on my face and all the pink ballerinas laugh at me. It’s not just that they are wearing pink costumes, but their hair and faces are pink, too! It’s soooo scary! I must be making a lot of noise in my sleep, because the next thing I know, I’m awake and Mom, Dad, and Ben are all in my room. I explain my dream, and they hug me tight. Mom makes me a little chamomile tea with honey, and Ben gives me Chewie to sleep with for the rest of the night. I do sleep a lot better.

  Sometimes my little brother, Ben, doesn’t bother me at all, not one bit.

  Chapter Six

  Bravo Ballet

  I look into the mirror, and I don’t recognize myself. I’m so… pink. I can see why tights are called tights. I feel like I’m wrapped in plastic. My leotard is itchy. Ben pops his head into my room, takes one look at me, and laughs.

  “You look funny, Lola!” he says. “Where are the rest of your clothes?”

  “Mom!” I yell. “Help!” A couple of seconds later, Mom runs into the room. She’s fast.

  “Lola, what is it? Is everything okay?” she asks.

  “No!” I say. “Look at me! I can’t wear these weird clothes.”

  “Lola, you scared me,” she says. “I thought something was really wrong.”

  “Something IS really wrong,” I tell her. “I can’t go out of the house like this. I’m practically naked. And I’ll be cold. And itchy. This looks like an ugly pink bathing suit.”

  “Lola,” Mom says, “you look lovely. Ballerinas wear clothes that are easy to move in and that highlight their arms and legs.”

  “Why can’t I highlight my arms and legs in my soccer shorts and a T-shirt?” I ask.

  “Well, the teacher needs to see the exact line of your body as you dance,” she says. “You aren’t going to let something as small as clothes stop you from going to Bella’s dance class, are you? After all, she went to your soccer practice.”

  “Okay, Mom,” I say, “but can I at least wear soccer shorts over my leotard on the way to the studio?”

  “Sure,” says Mom. “But you’ll have to let me put your hair in a bun. I think I can manage it.”

  “Fine,” I say, and I picture myself with a big cinnamon bun on my head.

  Mom drives me to Bella’s dance studio, and Ben tags along. He keeps teasing me.

  “Lola is going to dance… in her underpants!” he says.

  “Ben,” I say, “it’s a LEOTARD, not underwear!” I’m pretty grumpy when I get out of the car. Mom and I walk in through the glass doors that say BRAVO BALLET ACADEMY in great big pink letters—Ben stays outside with his soccer ball.

  I look around the studio. There are lots of girls in leotards, and each one looks the same to me. Bella runs up and surprises me by giving me a big hug.

  “I’m so glad you came, Lola! I thought you wouldn’t, you know. I like your hair that way!” she says. I reach up to the tiny bun my mom managed to make and look at the big bun on Bella’s head. It looks like a giant doughnut.

  “Did you know this studio is named after a famous Mexican ballet dancer?” she asks. I shake my head.

  “Well, it is! Her name was Guillermina Bravo, and she was amazing.”

  I smile, but the truth is it feels like monkeys are doing cartwheels in my stomach.

  “I’m a little nervous,” I tell Bella.

  “Don’t be!” says Bella, and she introduces me to a bunch of other girls dressed in leotards. One of them is Mira Goldstein.

  “Hi, Mira!” I say. I like Mira a lot, even though she’s Alyssa’s little sister. “Did you see Ben? He’s outside.”

  Mira runs to the front door, opens it, and yells, “Ben, come in! You can watch through the windows!”

  “Lola, may we stay and watch?” Mom asks.

  “Sure,” I say.

  Luckily, Ben’s on good behavior because Mira is here. Mira and Ben are best friends. Being best friends with Ben can be a little dangerous because he’s pretty wild. Mira is the only girl without a bun. That’s because her hair is still growing back from when Ben accidentally cut half of it off after a bubble-gum blowing contest (the gum got stuck in her hair). Her hair is slicked all the way back, though, with some sort of gel or hair spray. Just as I’m about to ask her if I can touch it, Bella grabs my arm.

  “Let’s go, Lola! Take off your shorts. It’s time for class,” she says. I do and give Ben a look that says he’d better not tease me, not even once!

  We all line up against a wooden bar. I’m right behind Bella.

  A teacher walks in and says, “Good afternoon, girls.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Duval,” all the ballerinas reply. Then they put one foot in front of the other and bend their knees.

  “That’s our ballet master, Mr. Duval,” says Bella. “You should curtsy.”

  “Is a curtsy the knee bend you just did?” I ask.

  “Yep,” Bella replies, and I try it. It isn’t too hard.

  Mr. Duval opens his mouth and starts giving directions. In French. I don’t speak French.

  “Two demi-pliés and one grand plié in first position and full port de bras into a forward bend. Tendu to second position. Port de bras,” he says, and the ballerinas in front of me and behind me start moving.

  What do these words mean? What are first position and second position? I can’t figure it out. Everyone is moving and doing things on the bar but me. I try to copy Bella, though, and Mr. Duval doesn’t seem to mind, because he just smiles at me and nods his head. I do figure out the forward, backward, and side bends, and those stretches feel really good.

  Later in class, we do something called a grand jeté, which is a sort of leap in the air. As a goalie, I’m used to jumping to catch balls, so I’m not horrible at it.

  “Bend your knees in a plié and take a deep breath just before you leap,” Mr. Duval explains. “Pretend that you are doing the splits on a magic flying carpet!”

  I finally get it, and I do a pretty good leap, in my opinion. Mr. Duval agrees.

  “Very good!” he says, and I’m so happy that I feel like I can plié and grand jeté all day. I’m also dripping with sweat. When class is finally over, I tell Bella, “You know, that was a lot harder than I ever thought. I can see why you are so strong.”

  We walk to the door being held open by Mr. Duval.

  “Thank you for letting me come to your class, Mr. Duval,” I say, but Mr. Duval isn’t looking at me. He’s
looking out into the lobby.

  “Who is that?” Mr. Duval says.

  Bella and I take a look, and that’s when I see Ben. He’s leaping, spinning, and dancing around the lobby. He must have been watching the ballet class very closely through the window, because he seems almost good at it.

  “That’s my brother, Ben,” I tell Mr. Duval. “He’s a soccer player.”

  “No…,” says Mr. Duval, “he’s a dancer!”

  The next thing I know, Mr. Duval is talking to my mom and Ben, asking if Ben might be interested in taking ballet classes or being a guest dancer in one of the performances.

  “But a boy can’t be a ballerina,” says Ben.

  “Sure, you can,” I say, “you can be a ballerino.”

  “Actually, you would just be a ballet dancer,” says Mr. Duval. “We need more boys, and I can see you have natural talent.”

  “What do you think, Ben?” asks Mom. “Shall we talk about it at home when you’ve had time to think about it?”

  Ben nods, and Mr. Duval gives Mom a schedule of classes.

  “Ben!” says Mira. “You should dance with us! It would be so fun.”

  Ben looks at Mira.

  “Okay,” he says, and does a spin.

  Chapter Seven

  The Big Game

  Dear Diario,

  Tomorrow is our big game against the Gray Sharks. I’m so excited! I have my soccer uniform folded up next to my bed, with my shoes, shin guards, and lucky headband all ready to go. My mom told me that she invited Bella and her mom to the soccer game. Afterward, we are all going out to lunch.

  I think it is nice that Mom has a new friend. It turns out she and Ms. Benitez have a lot in common. They both came to the United States from Latin America when they were teenagers, only Ms. Benitez and her family came from Mexico. Ms. Benitez doesn’t write for a newspaper, but she does write poems.