Brie wrinkles her nose. “That sound is so gross,” she says.
“This sound?” I ask, snorting as I eat lo mein.
Sophie laughs. A noodle flies out of her mouth and onto the table. She blushes. “I’m so sorry!”
I put my arm around her. “You fit right in.”
Everything is going better than I expected.
“What was your old dance school like, Sophie?” Brie asks, cutting up her noodles into neat pieces and eating them quietly.
Sophie shrugs. “It was a lot smaller than Ms. Marianne’s.”
“I think you’ll really like the classes here,” says Jada. “Most of the teachers danced professionally in New York City.”
“Sophie told me that Mr. Viktor danced on Broadway!” I gush.
“Cool,” says Grace.
Sophie clears her throat. “I like that Ms. Marianne’s has so many options. Even the ballet is more advanced!”
At the mention of ballet, Jada perks up. “What were your old ballet classes like?”
Sophie takes a bite of her lo mein. “There were only a few of us with ballet experience. Most of the classes were beginner.”
I don’t want Sophie to feel like her skills don’t match ours. “Sophie is so amazing at contemp! You guys are going to be blown away by our sampling.”
I look at my friends, but they don’t seem interested in the conversation anymore. I try to think of something else that can involve Sophie. “Mr. Viktor has so much energy!”
“So does my hip-hop teacher,” says Brie quietly.
I slump in my seat. It’s not a contest, I think to myself.
“I’m so full,” says Brie, pushing away her half-eaten food. “Do you guys want to hit Dance Till You Drop next?”
“Great plan!” I say, cheering up. “Sophie and I have to shop for our sampling.”
I turn to smile at Sophie, but I catch Grace and Jada rolling their eyes. Even Brie lets out a deep sigh. This time I know I didn’t imagine their reaction.
Why do they get so annoyed every time I talk about what Sophie and I have in common? I wonder. Why can’t my friends just be happy for me?
CHAPTER 5
Too Much Contemp
“How great is this store?” asks Sophie when we enter Dance Till You Drop. “I’ve never been here.”
“We come here all the time,” Jada says.
“Thanks for inviting me today,” says Sophie.
“It was really Gabby,” Grace says, avoiding Sophie’s eyes.
I shoot Grace a look. Why are they being so rude? “Sophie and I are going to look at leotards,” I say.
Sophie looks from me to my friends. “Do you guys want to come with?” she asks hopefully.
“I want to look at tap shoes,” Grace says.
“Besides, aren’t you two shopping for your sampling?” Jada asks.
Brie shoves her hands in her pockets. “We don’t want to intrude,” she adds softly.
“You wouldn’t—” Sophie begins.
“Forget it,” I interrupt. I turn away from my friends, saying, “Find us when you’re done.”
As my friends walk off, I’m speechless. Sophie was trying to be nice, and they blew her off.
“I don’t want to come between you and your friends,” says Sophie anxiously.
I want to say something reassuring, but it’s all so weird. “I’m really sorry. I’ve never seen them act like this.” I hook my arm through Sophie’s. “Leotards, here we come!”
I drag her to the leotard section, and Sophie finally smiles. “Oh my gosh,” she whispers, holding up a sparkly, rainbow-colored leotard, “is this way too much or is it just me?”
“Be the rainbow,” I joke.
Sophie giggles and hangs it back on the rack.
I hold up a leopard-spotted leotard with a fur trim around the neck. “Purrfect for teaching dance in a safari,” I say.
“Shhh!” Sophie giggles as the clerk glares at us.
We sift through the sale rack, taking turns mocking outrageous designs.
“Wait!” squeals Sophie, holding up a bright blue leotard. “I actually found a good one!”
“Ooooh great color!” I say. “Find one for me.”
“On it!” Sophie replies. Suddenly she spots something over my shoulder, and her face falls.
I turn and see Brie, Jada, and Grace coming our way. My heart sinks. The only time I’ve ever felt this way around my friends was when Brie and I had an argument over a solo. But even then I still had my other friends.
I shift from one foot to the other as my friends approach. “Did you buy new tap shoes?” I ask Grace without thinking.
As soon as the words are out, I regret them. Grace likes to browse the shoe selection here to get ideas, but she can’t afford new ones. She and her mom always buy them secondhand.
Grace tenses. “Nothing I like,” she says tightly.
“Grace, I didn’t mean—” I start to say.
“It’s fine,” Grace interrupts. Her tone clearly tells me it’s not.
I know her irritation isn’t about the tap shoes. Grace knows I’d never bring up her money stuff on purpose. It’s about Sophie. As usual.
“What did you all find?” Brie asks softly, trying to change the subject.
Sophie holds up a leotard. “Cool, right?”
“Definitely!” says Jada.
“Thanks!” I say happily. “That’s what’s so great about contemp. We can wear funky things.”
Jada bristles. “Unlike boring ballet leotards?”
“You know that’s not what I meant!” I protest.
“Let’s go outside and work this out,” Sophie mutters as the clerk starts walking toward us.
Back out in the mall, Brie says, “I should go. My dads wanted me to be home by three.”
“I promised my mom I’d help her around our house,” adds Grace.
I’m so mad at all of them. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help being a little snarky.
“Fine,” I say. “Sophie and I need to practice our contemp moves anyway. Right, Sophie?”
Sophie looks like she wants to disappear, and I regret dragging her into this.
Jada throws up her hands. “There’s a shock.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
“It means,” says Jada, “that contemp is all you talk about. It’s contemp this, and contemp that, and everything you and Sophie do together. You even interrupted my jalapeño pepper story to talk about you and Sophie!”
“You’re mad about a pepper?” I yell. I turn to Brie, who looks like she’s going to cry. “Do you agree with Jada?”
Brie nods slowly. “You do talk about contemp a lot.” She glances at Sophie. “And it’s nothing against you, Sophie. It’s just that you two only seem to want to hang out together—”
“We all came here together!” I interrupt furiously. “You three are the ones who decided to split from us in the store.”
Sophie touches my shoulder, looking upset. “I’m going to go.”
“But—” I begin.
“I’m going to go too,” Grace says.
“Later,” Jada says curtly. She and Brie walk away without a backward glance.
In an instant, I’m alone. All I can do is watch my old friends and my new friend walk away and wonder where everything went wrong.
CHAPTER 6
Just Dance
My friends and I don’t text for the rest of the weekend. It’s just as well. I don’t know what to say to any of them. I feel especially awful for putting Sophie in the middle.
On Monday afternoon, I walk into my contemp class, nervous about seeing Sophie. I haven’t talked to her since the disastrous mall outing.
As I’m warming up at the barre there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn
and see Sophie standing there.
“Hey,” she says. “How are you?”
I’m relieved she doesn’t look mad. I shrug. “OK … I guess.”
“That was some weekend, huh?” she says.
I cringe. “I don’t know what happened.”
Sophie bites the inside of her cheek. “I think I do. Let’s talk after class.”
Just then Mr. Viktor walks in. “Places!” he calls.
Sophie bumps my hip and grins. “Be the wind,” she whispers.
I grin back. It can’t be too bad if Sophie is still cracking jokes.
“We have four more classes before our sampling,” Mr. Viktor reminds us. “I hope you’ve all been practicing. Let’s review our steps from last week, then add on. Remember—be free!”
I glance at Sophie, and she mouths free. I hold in a laugh and try to take the advice to heart.
Free your mind, I tell myself. Be Jell-O.
I move my arms in front of me like I’m holding a huge beach ball and loosen my shoulders as I mix the soup. My leg rises to the side for the tilt, then whips back and forward for the fouetté.
“The song we’ll be using for our sampling is called ‘All Together,’” Mr. Viktor explains. “To emphasize the togetherness, I want you to connect to each other on the needle.”
I’m not sure what he means by connecting, but I like the idea of expressing emotions in the song.
“For the needle, line up with a partner, and lace your fingers together as you lift your opposite legs in the air,” he instructs.
Sophie and I partner up to practice the move. Our hands fall to the floor, and we lace our fingers together before lifting our legs into the twelve o’clock position. Lacing our fingers actually helps me balance too.
“Bravo!” says Mr. Viktor. “Now with music.”
I close my eyes and focus on the beat as I lift my leg for the tilt. I don’t pause as I complete the fouetté turn. Then Sophie and I run to each other and lace our fingers together for the needle.
Seeing all the dancers’ fingers connected as we raise our legs helps the song come alive, and I understand what Mr. Viktor meant about the moves coming together.
“Beautiful!” shouts Mr. Viktor. “Next we’re going to add a layout. This is a dramatic move. As the music gets louder, that’s your cue to do the layout. Watch me.”
Mr. Viktor replays the song. As the music swells, he brings his left foot forward. His right foot brushes across the floor and off the ground as he arches his back and throws his arms behind him.
When it’s our turn to try, I listen for the musical cue. I lift my left leg high off the floor as I arch my back and fling my arms behind me. I melt and imagine the moves flowing into one another. As the music gets louder, and the singer croons about friendship, my body goes limp as it arches backward.
I almost choke up, hearing the lyrics. I hope Sophie really does know what’s been bugging my friends.
* * *
“That was a hard practice,” I say to Sophie as we gather our things in the locker room.
Sophie nods. “I think our sampling is going to look great, though,” she says.
“Definitely!” I think about the song, my friends, and how we love watching each other dance. I wish I could share this with them.
“What’s wrong?” asks Sophie.
“I was just thinking about my friends,” I admit. “You really know what’s bugging them?”
Sophie nods. “I think they feel left out,” she says.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “Just because we didn’t join them for pizza?”
“That’s part of it,” says Sophie, “but—”
I throw up my hands. “You and I needed to practice! And besides, the four of us hang out all the time.”
“You might be right,” Sophie says cautiously. She reminds me a bit of Brie when she’s about to bring up something she knows I won’t like. “But maybe that’s part of why they’re hurt. They’re used to hanging out with you. And you and I have been talking about contemp a lot… .”
“They talk about their dances too,” I insist. “They’re the ones who were rude at the mall.”
Sophie doesn’t say anything else. Instead she focuses on packing her gym bag.
“Are you mad at me too?” I ask. I can’t bear another friend not wanting to talk to me.
“Not at all!” Sophie says, looking up from her bag. “I just don’t want to come between you all. I’d like all of us to be friends.”
“Me too,” I say eagerly. “They should apologize.”
Sophie wrinkles her nose. “Just think about what I said, OK?”
I want to argue about how silly that is, but the look on Sophie’s face stops me. Even though I think it’s ridiculous, I nod in agreement. Then I change the subject. “Want to come over and practice our moves after ballet class?”
“Great plan!” she says. “I want to be as close to perfect as possible for our next class.”
“Same,” I agree. What I don’t say is that the more time I spend practicing, the less time I’ll have to worry about whether or not the fight with my friends is really my fault.
CHAPTER 7
My Fault?
“Let’s take turns so we can see what the other looks like,” Sophie suggests. It’s Wednesday afternoon, after ballet class, and we’re getting ready to rehearse in my basement. “Then we’ll do it together like in class.”
“You first,” I say.
Sophie moves easily from the tilt to the fouetté, her leg swinging behind her knee and then to the front. Without pausing, her palms go to the floor and her leg rises to twelve o’clock for the needle. I imagine the song getting louder as Sophie stands up for the layout. She kicks her leg out in front, arches her back, and raises her arms behind her.
I applaud when she finishes. “That was so buttery!” I tell her, laughing.
“You’re up next,” says Sophie.
I wiggle my body to loosen up, and Sophie giggles. I tilt my hip and complete my side leg lift, then curve my arms in front of me and whip my leg around for the fouetté.
Be the wind, I think as I twirl.
My hands go to the floor for the needle like they have a mind of their own, and then I’m back up, body arching, hands flying behind me for the layout.
Sophie whistles through her fingers. “Wind, rain, we can be anything!”
Just then, the doorbell rings. I rush up the stairs, expecting it to be the pizza my mom ordered, and peek through the window. Brie, Grace, and Jada stand on the other side, looking nervous. My palms sweat as I open the door.
Brie shifts from one foot to the other. “Can we please come in?”
I nod and motion them in. I feel sad at how formal Brie’s question sounds.
“We wanted to talk about what happened at the mall,” Brie says. “I feel awful.”
“Me too,” Grace adds quickly.
“Me three,” Jada chimes in. “We shouldn’t have gotten so annoyed.”
I sigh with relief. “I’m so glad you guys feel that way. I don’t know what happened. You ditched Sophie and me and were being all snooty and—”
Brie’s mouth drops open. “Wait, we were being snooty?”
Grace puts her hands on her hips. “It was all us?” she says in disbelief.
I give them a confused look. I can’t believe they’re acting like this is my fault. I thought they were here to apologize.
“Um, yeah?” I say. “You made it clear you didn’t want to hang out with us. And any time we even mentioned contemp class you all made faces.”
“C’mon, Gabby!” says Jada, exasperated. “It feels like you never want to spend time with us anymore. It’s all about Sophie. And all you ever want to talk about is contemp—no matter what we’re talking about.”
What she’s
saying is similar to what Sophie suggested, but I’m too mad to think straight. “If that’s how you feel then go,” I lash out. “Sophie is downstairs, and we’re practicing our contemp moves. I wouldn’t want to bore you guys.”
Brie’s eyes fill with tears, and I feel horrible.
Grace puts her arm around Brie. “Let’s go,” she says.
Jada looks at me sadly. “Why did we even come over if you can’t talk about this?”
I don’t have anything to say to that. My friends leave, and I slump down on the floor and put my head in my hands. I hear Sophie coming up the stairs, but I don’t move.
“That was a mess,” I whisper as she puts her hand on my shoulder.
“You’ll work it out,” says Sophie.
“Maybe you were right,” I say. “Maybe I did make them feel left out.”
Sophie sits down next to me and gives me a gentle hug. “Think about what I said, but don’t beat yourself up,” she tells me. “No one is perfect.”
* * *
When Sophie leaves, I think about how I’ve been acting over the the past week. I remember interrupting Jada when she was laughing about what happened at the pizza place. I remember cutting off my friends’ stories at the mall with contemp talk.
I didn’t mean to be rude—I was just excited to share what was going on with my new friend and my new class. And I wanted them to be friends with Sophie too. But I think about how my friends must have felt when I kept interrupting all their stories with contemp moments Sophie and I shared—moments they were left out of.
They hurt my feelings too. But is it possible they were trying to own up to how they acted before I placed all the blame on them?
I take a deep breath and whip out my phone to text Grace, Brie, and Jada. Then I grab my jacket. After telling my parents where I’m going, I head out the door.
Sophie’s right. No one is perfect. I just hope we can work out all our imperfections together.
CHAPTER 8
Apologies
My mouth is dry, and my heart is racing as I stand in front of our favorite pizza place. I don’t know where to start, but when Grace, Jada, and Brie walk toward me, two words immediately spring to mind.
New Moves Page 2
