Those last three hours of rehearsal before a competition were the only time the girls had to iron out any wrinkles in a routine. It was also when Miss Toni liked to throw them a curve ball.
“I’m thinking we need to switch this up a little,” she said, tapping her foot on the floor as she watched the group number. “Scarlett, I want you to start with a rond de jambe attitude. The rest of you follow. And a one and a two . . .”
Scarlett glanced over at Bria, who looked totally lost.
“It’s too fast!” Bria whispered when they took a water break. “I can’t learn it this quick! And I hate when she talks in French! Why can’t ballet be in English?”
As they tried the number again, Bria did her best to keep up—to turn when Toni said pirouette; to jump when she said sauté. She kept her back foot on the ground and her shoulders down. But her head was spinning as Toni called out: “Sharper! Sharper! Knees straight! Bria, you can do better than this! Focus!”
Bria spun out of control, right into Scarlett, who lost her balance and toppled out of a split handstand.
“I’m so sorry,” Bria said, her eyes welling up. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You can do it,” Scarlett whispered. “We have to get through this.”
“I guess it’s not a competition until someone cries,” Rochelle said.
Toni stopped the music and took Bria aside. “The judges are expecting flawless technique and precision,” she said calmly. “I need to know that you are willing to work for that. No mishaps. No thoughts about anything except winning. Clear?”
Bria nodded and took her place once again behind Scarlett. This time, when Toni counted—“five-six-seven-eight”—she did a perfect arabesque.
At the end of the routine, Miss Toni applauded. “You girls nailed it. That was crisp, that was clean—that was a first-place win if I ever saw one!”
Backstage at the City Lights dance competition, the halls were packed with girls running their dances.
“Did you see some of those costumes?” Liberty asked her mom.
“I know.” Her mother chuckled. “So tacky!”
Scarlett looked down at her blue chiffon dress. Her mother had sewn silver sequins all along the neckline. Was it tacky, too?
Rochelle read her thoughts. “It’s beautiful, and your solo is amazing,” she said, squeezing her friend’s hand. “Go out there and win another title. For both of us, okay?”
“I’m sorry you don’t get to perform your solo,” Scarlett told her. “I know how hard you worked on it.”
Rochelle shrugged. If there was one thing she had learned to do well from Toni, it was to “Toughen up.” There would be other competitions, other chances to prove herself. The only thing that burned her was that Liberty got a solo this time.
“Just look at her. So full of herself!” Rochelle said.
“But that costume is gorgeous!” Bria sighed.
Liberty’s mom had asked a friend—who just happened to be a designer for Lady Gaga—to create a one-of-a-kind blue-and-green-sequin leotard with real peacock feathers for a skirt.
“Stand still, Liberty!” her mom mumbled. Her mouth was filled with bobby pins to secure the headpiece, an emerald and sapphire tiara. “Stop fidgeting!”
Liberty’s number was a contemporary jazz routine called “Wings.” Scarlett had watched her do it over and over in rehearsals. There were tricks; there were splits; there were thirty fouetté pirouettes with perfectly pointed toes (Liberty’s specialty). It was what Toni called an “eyepopper showstopper,” meaning the judges would be wowed.
By comparison, Scarlett’s solo was mellower. The music was slow and gentle, like a soothing lullaby. Miss Toni told her it was about someone going to heaven, and she should dig deep and feel the emotion of it: the loss and the sadness as well as the beauty and the peace. So every time she danced it, she thought of the saddest day she could remember in her family: the day her grandpa Papa Eli—her dad’s father—died on her eighth birthday. She missed him all the time—he was always in the front row at all of her dance recitals, and now she thought of him as her guardian angel. So standing backstage, waiting in the wings for her turn to dance, Scarlett said a little prayer: “Please, oh, please, let this be a great performance!”
Liberty’s mom was fluffing one last feather when a voice boomed over the microphone: “And now, dancing a contemporary jazz routine entitled ‘Wings,’ please welcome from Dance Divas Studio . . . Liberty!”
Scarlett watched as her teammate strutted like a peacock out onto the stage. She nodded to the judges, then began her routine. If there was one thing Scarlett had to give her credit for, it was showmanship. She waved, she winked, she shook her hips, and shimmied her shoulders. By the end of the number, she had the entire audience on their feet for a standing ovation.
“That’s my girl!” her mother squealed, hugging her as she came offstage. “You rocked it, baby!”
Scarlett gulped. Beating Liberty was not going to be easy.
“Okay, sugar muffin,” her mom said. “Two more girls and then it’s your turn. Time to get ready.”
Scarlett made sure the straps of her dress were secure and that the delicate white lace bow in her hair was pinned in place.
“Do you have my lucky ballet shoes, Mom?” she asked, straightening the seams on her tights.
“I thought you had them, honey,” her mom replied. “They’re not with me. You must have left them in the dressing room.”
But when they searched her bags, they were nowhere to be found.
“Rock, Bria—help me find them!” Scarlett began to panic. They looked in every bag, in every corner, under every pile of costumes.
“I don’t get what the big deal is. Just wear another pair. You have at least six in your dance bag,” Liberty said.
“No, it has to be this pair!” Scarlett answered. “You don’t understand! I need my Lucky Stars shoes to win!”
Bria nodded. “Seriously, she does. She wore them last year when she won the National Junior Solo title.”
“We put a little gold star sticker inside each of them—so we’d always know which ones were the Lucky Stars,” Rochelle added.
“That’s ridiculous,” Liberty insisted. “You’re going to miss your cue for a stupid pair of ballet shoes?”
“Here, honey.” Scarlett’s mom handed her another pair. “Just put these on. You’ll be fine.”
Scarlett raced to the wings just as the girl before her was taking her bows. It just didn’t feel right without her lucky shoes! But she didn’t have a choice. It was these or nothing. She flexed and pointed her toes, trying to will this pair to obey. She couldn’t understand why her Lucky Stars had disappeared. She was sure she had tucked them into her dance bag after rehearsal. Maybe they’d fallen out?
“Next, we have a lyrical routine entitled ‘In the Clouds,’” the announcer began.
“Wait! Wait!” Rochelle called. “Scarlett, I found them! They were under a bench in the hallway!”
She tossed the shoes to her friend, and Scarlett slipped them on just as her name was called: “Please welcome Scarlett from Dance Divas!”
Scarlett’s heart was pounding as she stepped onto the stage. She felt the spotlight’s warm glow as she took her position on the floor. She heard Miss Toni’s words echo in her head as she danced : “Straight legs . . . arms wide . . . head high, and shoulders down!” She felt like a wave on the beach, ebbing and flowing with the swelling music, until suddenly, something went very wrong.
As Scarlett leaped and landed on the ball of her foot, she felt herself sliding across the stage.
There was a gasp from the audience as she came crashing down on the wood floor. She was facedown on the stage for what seemed like an eternity.
“Get up! Get up!” she heard Rock and Bria calling from the wings. So that’s what she did. She pulled herself up and continued dancing from where she left off, struggling to keep with the music. The crowd cheered, but Scarlett could feel her cheeks burning. She was mortified. How could this have happened? She was so humiliated she could barely look the judges in the eye.
After the routine ended, she took a quick bow and raced offstage into her mom’s arms. She burst into tears.
“It’s okay, honey,” her mom said, trying to comfort her. “Are you hurt?”
Scarlett touched her hip gingerly. It throbbed, and she was sure it was already turning black and blue. But her ego was bruised worse.
“I don’t understand.” She sobbed, looking at Rochelle and Bria. “It was going so well, then I just—”
“Wiped out.” Miss Toni finished her sentence. “Let me see your ballet shoes.”
On the bottom of the left slipper was a strange blue stain.
“What is that?” Scarlett sniffled.
Miss Toni rubbed her fingers across the sole. It felt slick and slippery. “If I had to guess, I’d say hair gel.”
“How did hair gel get on your ballet shoe?” Bria asked.
“Maybe someone put it there,” Liberty suddenly said. “Let’s see . . . Who was it that found your lucky shoes?” All eyes turned to Rochelle. Liberty pointed a finger in her face. “So much for best friends. Just sayin’ . . .”
Rochelle suddenly remembered she had been using gel to do her bun moments before finding the shoes. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, Scarlett! I might have had gel on my fingers! I didn’t think—I just saw your shoes and tossed them out to you as fast as I could.”
“It was an accident, Rock,” Scarlett assured her. “You didn’t mean to. It’s okay.”
Miss Toni clapped her hands. “Right now, we have a group number to do, and there’d better be no more mishaps. Clear?” Toni barked. “If there are, someone’s head is going to be on the chopping block.”