by Sheryl Berk
“It’s easy-peasy.” Gracie smiled. Mr. Minnelli couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Do you want to try something that’s not so easy-peasy?” he asked her.
“Sure!” Gracie beamed. “Bring it on!”
He nodded at Miss Noreen, who asked the rest of the group to take a seat while she taught Gracie a combination.
“Now take it slow,” she instructed her. “It’s very complicated.” She did the step alongside her as she called out, “En face ballonné devant, step left, coupé derrière sauté, step right, coupé derrière sauté!”
The other kids scratched their heads, but Gracie mimicked her perfectly. At the end, she gave a graceful curtsy. “How was that?” she asked Mr. Minnelli.
“Fine. Fine indeed!” he said, impressed. “Where do you study?”
“In my bedroom mostly—sometimes on the couch but my mom says I shouldn’t do my homework while watching TV ’cause then I don’t pay attention and I get the answers wrong.”
Miss Andrea and Miss Noreen both giggled. Mr. Minnelli cleared his throat. “No, dear, I mean where do you study dance?”
“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?” Gracie replied. “At Dance Divas. My teacher is Miss Toni and she’s fantabulously talented and really pretty and she let me join the team with my sister, Scoot.”
Mr. Minnelli raised an eyebrow. “You have a sister named Scoot?”
“Well, I call her Scoot, but it’s really Scarlett. Scoot’s funner, don’t you think?”
“I do.” Mr. Minnelli nodded. “And I think you may just be the funnest audition I have seen so far today.”
Gracie smiled wide. “Can I have some candy now?”
Meanwhile, in studio one, Liberty and Anya were waiting for their turn to dance.
“Look at her posture.” Liberty pointed out a girl who scrunched her shoulders up as she did sixteen changements in a row. “Hideous!”
A tall man with wavy dark hair and steel-blue eyes came in and sat on a stool in front of the room.
“Do you think that’s …,” Anya asked.
“Miss Toni’s old boyfriend?” Liberty finished her sentence. “Only one way to find out!”
Liberty raised her hand. “Excuse me,” she said sweetly. “We’re from the Dance Divas Studio in Scotch Plains, New Jersey, and Miss Antoinette Moore told us to tell you hi.”
The man looked up from his notebook. “You study with Toni?” he asked, surprised.
Liberty smirked and elbowed Anya. “Mission accomplished. That is definitely Marcus Sanzobar.”
Marcus rose from his stool. “Well, I would expect Toni’s dancers to be the very best …,” he began.
Liberty smiled. “Of course we are. At least I am.”
Marcus’s face got suddenly stern. “And I’d also expect them to be a little more respectful and modest.”
He turned to face the rest of the dancers. “And now if there are no more interruptions, I’d like to get on with the auditions.”
Anya gulped. “Nice job, Liberty. He hates us already.”
In studio two, things weren’t going much better for Scarlett, Rochelle, and Hayden. Miss Andrea walked in and immediately began putting them through their paces.
“Relax those hands. Keep that head tall,” Miss Andrea reminded Rochelle. “You!” she pointed at Scarlett. “You were wobbly on that piqué en dedans! Strong legs!”
Hayden’s tour chaînés looked great—until another dancer accidentally spun into him and knocked him over. “Watch where you’re going!” the boy yelled at him.
“Me? I’m not the klutz! Why don’t you look where you’re going—and stay off my feet!” Hayden replied.
Miss Andrea sighed. “I have to say I was hoping for more from the elite Dance Divas competitive team,” she said.
Scarlett shot Rochelle a worried look. Miss Toni expected all of them to get leads in The Nutcracker. Scarlett wondered if any of them would even make it into the cast!
Bria was doing her best in studio three to follow the intricate tendu and pirouette combination that Miss Becky, another one of the Dances Minnelli ballet mistresses, had demonstrated for them. But she couldn’t remember if the count started on six or on five, and if she should start with her right or left. She chose wrong.
“Why are you going left when everyone else is going right?” Miss Becky asked her. “You’re a beat behind.”
“I’m sorry. Could you just go over it one more time?”
Bria wished that at least one of her Diva teammates could be in the studio with her. She could always look over to Scarlett or Rock and they’d help her get back in sync with the routine. Here, she felt like the odd dancer out. None of the other girls were going to offer her any hints or help—not when there were principal roles at stake.
“One more time from the top,” Miss Becky said. “And anyone who doesn’t get it this time, please take a seat. We can’t waste time on people who can’t keep up.”
Bria’s eyes grew wide.
She knew Miss Becky meant her.
Chapter 4
Tiny Dancer
Miss Andrea had explained that it would be at least a week before Dances Minnelli made any decisions on the casting.
“Did you check your e-mail again?” Anya asked Bria. They were all gathered around her laptop in the dressing room at Dance Divas. “It’s Saturday. It’s been exactly a week. We should have the cast list by now!”
Bria hit Refresh on her mailbox for the third time. “Nope. Nothing.”
“This is so stressful!” Anya groaned. “What’s taking so long?”
“They’re probably trying to decide if I’d make a better Clara or Sugar Plum,” Liberty said, pulling on a pair of leg warmers. “It’s a tough call.”
Bria hit the button one more time. “Still nothing.”
“My mom always says ‘a watched pot never boils,’ ” Scarlett pointed out.
“She says that when she’s cooking spaghetti,” Gracie chimed in.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rochelle asked.
Scarlett grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her off the bench. “It means stop waiting for the e-mail and get to dance class. We can check it later.”
Just then, a chime sounded on Bria’s computer.
“You’ve got mail! You’ve got mail!” Anya said excitedly. “What is it?”
Bria checked her inbox. There was an e-mail from Miss Andrea with the subject: “Congratulations!”
“What are you waiting for? Click on it!” Liberty screamed.
“Oh, I thought you weren’t worried,” Rochelle taunted her. “Maybe we should just hold off until after technique class …”
Liberty grabbed the laptop away from Bria and opened the e-mail. Her jaw dropped.
“What? What is it?” Anya begged. “Read it! The suspense is killing me!”
Liberty was utterly speechless. She turned the laptop toward Scarlett. “You read it.”
Scarlett looked at the screen. It was a long letter from Miss Andrea congratulating everyone who had been cast in this year’s A New Jersey Nutcracker. Then there was the official cast list with a familiar name right at the top of it.
“Gracie?” Scarlett gasped.
“Yeah?” Gracie asked. “What is it, Scoot?”
“You’re Clara. You—you actually got the role of Clara.”
Gracie screamed and ran around the dressing room, doing cartwheels. “I did it! I’m Clara! I’m Clara!”
Scarlett read the rest of the list. “Bria and I are snowflakes; Anya is a mouse; Rochelle and Hayden are soldiers. And Liberty …”
“Is a gingerbread man? Ridiculous!” Liberty said. “Mr. Minnelli needs a new pair of glasses. I’m going to have my mother call and demand he make some changes this instant! How can I be a gingerbread man while Gracie gets to be Clara?”
Though she wasn’t thrilled with her part, Scarlett did have to defend her little sister. “Gracie earned it, fair and square,” she told Liberty. “She had what they were
looking for, and you have to accept it.”
“I’m gonna go find Miss Toni and tell her!” Gracie said, racing out of the dressing room. “I’m Clara! I’m Clara!”
“You are never going to hear the end of this,” Rochelle said. “If there’s anything Gracie does super well, it’s gloating.”
“I can just hear my mom now: ‘be happy for your little sister,’ ” Scarlett replied. “I am happy for her. I’m just sad for me. I always dreamed of playing Clara. Gracie didn’t even know what The Nutcracker was until last week!”
“Look on the bright side,” Bria said. “We all got cast. That will make Miss Toni happy. Even if they’re not all leads.”
When they came into the studio for class, Toni was already congratulating Gracie. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, hugging her. “As for the rest of you …”
She turned to face the group. “Did you see who got the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy?”
“It wasn’t listed yet. It said it was still to be determined,” Anya replied.
“Well, it was just determined. I got an e-mail from Justine Chase, rubbing it in my face. Her student Addison is playing Sugar Plum.”
“Addison wasn’t even at the auditions,” Liberty insisted. “Something stinks like Smelly Feet!”
“And she’s not even from New Jersey—she’s from New York!” Gracie protested. “She shouldn’t get to play a fairy in the NEW JERSEY Nutcracker.”
“Maybe Justine called her old pas de deux partner Marcus and asked him for a favor,” Rochelle suggested. “It would be so like her to try and outdo the Divas.”
“What’s done is done,” Toni said and sniffed. “At least Gracie did what she was supposed to do.”
“We did try,” Anya insisted. “We did our best.”
“Who cares about the stupid Nutcracker? I’m not doing some lame role,” Liberty said.
“Oh, yes, you are.” Miss Toni stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “Every one of you is doing that show, and you are going to make the best of it. Divas don’t quit. I won’t allow it.”
“That’s not fair,” Liberty sulked. “I hate my part.”
“You get what you get and don’t get upset,” Rochelle teased her. “I bet you’ll make a cute gingerbread dude.” She waddled around with stiff arms and legs.
“That’s enough,” Toni said, cutting her off. “There are no small parts, just small dancers.”
“I’m a small dancer.” Gracie giggled. “But I’m Clara!”
Toni smiled. “You are indeed. Looks like Gracie won this round, hands down. Only one question remains: who will be your prince?”
“That’s right! They didn’t list the name of the Nutcracker Prince!” Scarlett exclaimed.
Gracie gulped. “You don’t suppose they’ll make me dance the whole time by myself, do you?” she asked Miss Toni. Gracie was always full of confidence in any group number, duo, or trio. But when she had to take the spotlight by herself, stage fright set in.
“Rest assured, there will be a Nutcracker in The Nutcracker,” Miss Toni told her. “I just wonder what—or who—Marcus has up his sleeve.”
Rehearsals started immediately the next day at Dances Minnelli Studio—there was no time to waste. They all had to learn the choreography, get fitted for their costumes, and have everything ready for the holiday audiences in seven short weeks.
“I know it’s a lot for you to learn,” Mr. Minnelli told Gracie. “But I’m confident you can do it.”
“Of course I can!” Gracie answered. “One time, Miss Toni had me learn a duet in two hours for a major competition in Atlanta and I did it, no sweat. Don’t worry, Mr. Minnelli. I’ve got your back.”
The choreographer smiled. “I have no doubt about that, young lady. Just bring that energy and confidence to your role and we’ll be in great shape.”
“And you,” he turned to Addison. “I’m counting on you to be a breathtaking Sugar Plum. You come highly recommended.”
“I told you!” Rochelle elbowed Scarlett. “I knew Justine was behind this.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Bria reminded her. “Addison is a really good dancer.”
“I’m just as good,” Liberty said. “Better. I don’t scrunch up my face when I’m concentrating.”
They watched as Addison glided across the floor in her toe shoes, as light as if she were dancing on clouds. “I hate to admit it, but she’s good,” Rochelle remarked. “Really good.”
Liberty put her hands over her ears. “I am not listening to this! It’s bad enough we have to be in this silly show. Now I have to play second fiddle to one of the Stinky Feet?”
Bria nodded. “I’m used to it. My sister is amazing at everything she does. I’m always a step behind her.”
Scarlett glanced over at Gracie, who was twirling around the stage, holding a red-and-gold painted nutcracker in her hands as the rest of the children in the party scene reached for it. It felt strange for her to play “second fiddle” to her little sister. In the past, it had always been Scarlett who was in the lead. Now Gracie was getting all the attention.
“Like this?” she asked Marcus as she pretended to cradle the nutcracker in her arms like a baby.
“Exactly!” he replied. “You’re worried about the Nutcracker being broken. You’re sad that he’s hurt.”
Gracie’s eyes welled with tears. “It’s okay, little Nutcracker,” she whispered. “I’m here.” Her face looked both tender and brave.
Mr. Minnelli dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief. “Lovely, just lovely,” he said. “You’re a natural actress. The rest of you, please stand on the sidelines while we go over Clara and the prince’s duet. You,” he said, pointing to Hayden, “you stand in for the prince.”
Scarlett shuffled off to a corner. This was not going to be easy. Rochelle read her mind. “How do you think I feel?” she whispered. “I wanted those roles so badly for me and Hayden.”
“Why do you think the Nutcracker Prince is MIA?” Bria asked them. “Mr. Minnelli hasn’t said a word about who he might be.”
“I bet it’s some big-time ballet star,” Anya said, speculating. “Like Chase Finlay or Jared Angle.”
Rochelle shrugged. “I don’t know who either of those dudes are, but who do you think that little pip-squeak is?” She pointed to the studio entrance, where a tiny boy in a fedora hat was standing with his mother. His nose was pressed up against the glass door.
Mr. Minnelli noticed him at the same time. “Ah, yes! Here at last! Please come in!” He motioned for the boy to enter the studio.
“Everyone,” Mr. Minnelli announced, “I would like you to meet Olivier Mason from Central Delaware Youth Ballet. He is going to be our Nutcracker Prince!”
Rochelle’s jaw dropped to the floor. “Seriously? This little munchkin is the prince? Is he even out of diapers yet?” She gazed over at Hayden, who looked just as shocked. Mr. Minnelli had practically shoved him to the side to make room for Olivier.
Bria elbowed her. “Check it out.”
Olivier was extending his hand for Gracie to shake it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.
Gracie scratched her head. “Um, hi, Oliver,” she replied.
The boy pulled his hand away. “No, not Oliver. Oh-liv-ee-ay. Like the famous actor Laurence Olivier.”
Gracie’s face lit up. “Oh, I get it! O-live-ee-YAY! Cool name!”
The boy seemed pleased and took his spot next to Gracie.
Scarlett chuckled. No wonder they chose her little sis to play Clara. They needed someone who was actually shorter than the prince!
Olivier took off his hat and began stretching out on the floor. “His feet are pretty sick,” Rochelle commented. “Look at that arch! And he’s so flexible.” They watched as the little boy did an effortless split, then pressed his forehead to his knee.
Anya nodded. “He’s like a human pretzel. Impressive, I gotta admit.”
Liberty had been silent the entire time. “This ballet is a joke,”
she barked. “Clara and the prince look like they belong in kindergarten, and I’m playing a walking pastry!”
“A cookie, technically,” Bria corrected her. “Gingerbread men are cookies.”
Liberty practically snarled at her. “If it weren’t for Toni’s stupid rule that we had to do this show, I’d be out the door.”
As much as she hated to agree with her, Anya felt the same way. “Better a cookie than a rodent.”
Chapter 5
That’s the Way the Cookie Crumbles
The gingerbread scene was the most comical in the ballet. As lead gingerbread, Liberty had to duck under Mother Ginger’s huge hoop skirt and leap out at the audience.
“Let me get this straight,” Liberty said, complaining to Marcus. “You want me to crawl on the floor under some granny’s skirt and then pop out and make a complete fool out of myself ?”
Marcus rested his hands on his hips. “If you choose to make a complete fool out of yourself, then that’s your decision. I expect you to burst onto the stage exuding joy and excitement. If you can’t handle that, there’s the door.”
“Ooh, I like him,” Rochelle whispered to Scarlett. “Anyone who disses Liberty gets my vote!”
“Fine,” Liberty said, taking her place. “I am a professional.”
“The lead gingerbread has to really ham it up,” Miss Noreen instructed her.
“That won’t be a problem for Liberty.” Rochelle chuckled.
Miss Noreen showed her the choreography, a combination of arabesques, pirouettes, and something that resembled a waddling penguin.
“Elbows should be shoulder level, palms open wide,” she demonstrated.
The other gingerbread dancers looked cute and funny as they raced around the studio. Liberty looked mean and ornery and practically bit Mother Ginger’s head off when she got too close.
“Gingerbread don’t growl,” Marcus corrected Liberty. “You’re supposed to be smiling.”
“I’m supposed to be Clara,” Liberty muttered under her breath. “This is totally humiliating.”
At the end of the scene, Liberty had to turn her back to the audience so Mother Ginger could give her a playful kick.
