Scarlett, Rochelle, and Bria bounded into studio 2 just as Toni was taking her place in the front of the room. Liberty, of course, was already at the barre, warming up. The girl was a human pretzel; she could bend and twist in every direction! Her shiny blond hair was pulled back in a braid. Ugh, Scarlett thought, tucking a stray strand behind her ear again, I wish I had straight silky hair like that! She also noticed Liberty’s custom dance outfit: a hot-pink cropped mesh top and matching shorts with the word “STAR” bedazzled on the butt. Scarlett looked down at her black leotard and pink leg warmers and wrapped her arms over her chest. She felt positively plain and boring standing next to Liberty.
“Nice of you to join us, ladies,” Toni snapped.
Then she gave them “the look.” Scarlett knew it well—she actually had nightmares about it sometimes. It said, “You have disappointed me; you are dead meat!” all in a single icy-cold stare.
The strange thing was that Toni was beautiful. She had porcelain-white skin, wavy dark hair that fell softly around her shoulders, and pale-blue eyes. Scarlett’s little sister, Gracie, thought she looked like Snow White.
“More like the Evil Queen,” Rochelle had said, chuckling. “There is nothing princess-like about her.”
But Scarlett could see it: Toni had once been a kinder, gentler person. She’d even watched some of Toni’s old performances on YouTube, when she was just Antoinette Moore, a young teen dancer at American Ballet Company, floating across the stage in The Nutcracker to the “Waltz of the Flowers.” This was not the same woman who stood before them, day after day, stamping her foot on the wood floor and barking orders. Even with Toni’s hair pulled into a severe bun and her signature bright-red lipstick, Scarlett could see there was something soft about her.
“I want to see perfect pirouettes piqué.” Toni’s voice brought Scarlett back to attention. “Shoulders down! How many times do I have to correct you? We have three days, and this number is a big hot mess! Scarlett, front and center!”
Scarlett obeyed, taking her place in front of the other girls.
“Miss Toni! I can’t see with Scarlett’s big butt blocking my view,” Liberty complained.
“Well, there’s nothing to see,” Toni replied. “You should know this number cold by now without having to follow me. Five-six-seven-eight . . .”
They rehearsed for two hours without a break. The number was a strange contemporary piece set to the tap-tap-tap sounds of a computer keyboard. No music; just strange computer blips and bells. Onstage, there would be a giant video screen behind them, projecting fake e-mails and text messages. The routine was called, “Cyberbully,” and in it, Scarlett played the victim of mean girls bugging her online.
“I want to see the pain in your face,” Toni instructed her, “as if these words are like knives cutting into you.”
Scarlett winced. That wasn’t hard to imagine. All she had to do was recall some of Liberty’s nastiest insults.
Scarlett flitted from girl to girl, trying to escape their clawing arms. It was dramatic and unsettling.
Toni seemed satisfied. “If this doesn’t win Saturday, I give up,” she said under her breath.
At the end of rehearsal, she gathered the girls around her in a huddle, like a football coach handing out plays to his team. “I want you to know that Saturday’s competition is going to be tough,” she began. “Some of the best studios are coming to compete, and we cannot afford to make any mistakes. Is that clear?”
Scarlett was used to the speech. It always began with something like “Don’t mess up!” and ended with “Do I make myself clear?” To Toni, every competition was a matter of life and death, because her reputation was riding on it. But what she forgot was that none of the girls liked to lose either. It felt awful to spend dozens of hours on group routines, solos, and combinations, only to be handed a second- or third-place trophy. Every one of them wanted to win first place—in every category.
“I said, is that clear?” Toni boomed. Four heads nodded. “We leave for the city at eight a.m.”
Liberty raised her hand. “Miss Toni, Saturday is my eleventh birthday, and my mom was planning on having a party for some family and VIP friends later in the day. I think maybe a countess and . . .”
Toni placed a hand dramatically over her eyes, as if to block out Liberty from her vision altogether. “I don’t care if Queen Elizabeth herself is coming to tea at your house. You’ll be there!” She said each word with the razor-sharpness of a battement at the barre. “Is. That. Clear?”
Liberty gulped. It was the first time Scarlett had ever seen her know-it-all teammate at a loss for words.
Toni turned and faced the rest of the group. “That goes for all of you. Anyone who is not interested in following my rules . . . there’s the door.” She pointed to the studio exit. “I don’t care if you like me, and I don’t care if you like one another. But we are a team, and we act like one. We let nothing stand in our way of winning.”
On that note, Toni walked out the door, leaving the girls to think about what she’d said.
“My mom is not going to be happy.” Liberty sighed. “She called the caterer and everything.”
“Give me a break.” Rochelle groaned.
“Nothing like team spirit,” Scarlett said. “Can we all just try to get along?”
“Oh, and who appointed you cheer captain?” Liberty shot back. “After I win the crown for Junior Solo this weekend, I’ll be Toni’s favorite—not you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Rochelle said, defending her BFF. “Unless they give out prizes for the biggest mouth. In that case, you’ll win for sure.”
Liberty bristled. “At least I have a solo. Toni cut yours this week. I wonder why? Maybe because you stink?”
“Not as bad as your feet stink!” Rochelle shot back, holding her nose.
“Aw, someone’s a sore loser! What’s the matter? Miss Toni thought you weren’t good enough to compete?”
“Liberty, cut it out!” Scarlett cried. “It’s none of your business. Stop or I’ll—”
“You’ll what? You’ll run to Miss Toni and rat me out? Aw, I’m really scared.” She picked up her ballet shoes and waved them in Scarlett’s face, taunting her. “See ya Saturday, girls,” she said, and smirked. “I can’t wait.”
Scarlett had a sinking feeling in her stomach that this weekend wasn’t going to go as smoothly as planned.