Three months of rehearsals flew by, and the day of the Reach for the Stars competition completely sneaked up on Scarlett.
“I can’t believe it’s tomorrow,” she told Rochelle. “I’m not sure we’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” Liberty said. “Wait till you see my costume! The designer for Katy Perry made it.”
“And wait till you see mine.” Rochelle imitated Liberty, tossing her hair and sashaying around the dressing room. “The designer for Rochelle Hayes made it . . . my mom!”
Scarlett tried not to laugh. “Come on, guys. I’m sure all the costumes are great. I just wish Toni would make up her mind which soloists she’s choosing.”
“I hope it’s not me.” Bria sighed. “My social studies teacher announced a test for Monday. I have to memorize all the constitutional amendments, and I don’t know any of them!”
“How many are there?” Gracie asked.
Bria frantically flipped through her textbook. “I don’t even know! Ten? Thirteen? Twenty-five? It might as well be a million! I’m going to fail anyway.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll help you study, Bria,” Scarlett said, putting an arm around her friend.
“When? Between rehearsals? Before costume fittings? At the competition? There’s just no time!” Bria looked more panicked than Scarlett had ever seen her.
“You know, studying is a lot like learning a dance combination,” Scarlett told her. “You have to just go over it and over it till you nail it.”
Bria shook her head. “No, it’s different. When I dance, I have the music to remind me what comes next.”
“Then put some beats to it!” Rochelle said, taking the textbook from her. “This is my specialty!”
She began to rap: “The First Amendment says you’re free, to say anything you like to me—”
“Really?” Liberty smirked. “Anything? Can I say that your beatboxing is sad and amateurish?”
Scarlett scowled. “Liberty, let’s not distract Bria. The point Rock was trying to make was that studying can be fun and easy.”
“Maybe for you,” Bria said, pouting. “Not for me.”
“Could you at least give it a shot?” Rochelle asked. “Here.” She handed Bria back her book and her notes.
Bria looked them over, closed her eyes, and rapped: “Amendment Four—that’s no bore. It says you better stay out of my door!”
“That’s right!” Scarlett cheered. “It’s ‘no search or seizure without a warrant’! Bria, you nailed it!”
“Two down, twenty-five more to go!” Bria said, then moaned.
“But you know you can do this,” Scarlett insisted. “Just put it to a beat and start moving your feet.”
Suddenly Toni burst into the dressing room. “I’d like you all to start moving your feet—into the studio this minute. I have decided the final lineup for Nationals.” She handed them each a sheet of paper listing the numbers and who would be dancing them.
“Yes! I have a solo!” Liberty pumped her fist in the air.
Scarlett scanned the list for her name and saw it under a trio with Rochelle and Bria. The only other solo was Gracie in the Petite category.
“I don’t get it,” she said. “I always solo at Nationals.”
“You mean you always used to solo,” Liberty corrected her. “Miss Toni obviously has a new favorite dancer in the house.”
“Cut it out, Liberty,” Rochelle warned her. “This isn’t a contest to win the teacher’s-pet title.”
“It isn’t?” Liberty asked innocently. “Gee, maybe that’s because none of you are winning? Just saying . . .”
Scarlett hated to admit it, but Liberty had a point. Miss Toni had never quite forgiven her for the slipup at Feet on Fire, and Toni’s word was final. Liberty and Gracie were the soloists.
She was glad to be dancing with Bria and Rock, though. Their trio was a spicy contemporary dance called “House of Cards.” Each of them was dressed like a suit in the deck: Bria was clubs, Rochelle was hearts, and she was diamonds.
The group number was equally exciting. Miss Toni called it “The Untouchables,” and the girls played old-time gangsters robbing a bank. The music sounded like a tense staccato piano from a silent movie, and their costumes were all black, white, and silver. In the end, Gracie—the long arm of the law—arrested the bad guys (her little sis loved that part!) and rescued the loot.
“TTFN—that means ta-ta for now!” Liberty said. “I’m off to a private session with Miss Toni to run my solo.”
“TTFW—that means too tacky for words,” Rochelle called after her, “which is how I’m sure you’ll dance tomorrow onstage!”
The Convention Center in Atlantic City was one of the biggest venues at which the Divas had ever performed.
“It says the competition is in Exhibit Hall D, and our rehearsal room is off Hall C,” Bria said as she read the floor plans.
“It’s so big!” Gracie looked at the giant windows and sky-high ceilings.
“Let’s get a look at the space,” Miss Toni said, ushering them into the main exhibit hall. None of the girls had ever seen anything like it: there was bleacher-style seating—enough for thousands of people—and a stage the size of a small football field.
“This is crazy!” Scarlett exclaimed.
“Totally!” Liberty added. “I’m going to look like a flea to the people sitting in the back row.”
“I told you all this was a huge venue,” Toni said. “Bigger than any of the other Nationals we’ve competed in. I hope it’s sinking in now.”
Rochelle nodded. “I feel like a rock star.”
“Good,” Toni replied. “Just perform like one today.”
The girls spent the morning running through their complicated choreography. Thankfully, Miss Toni didn’t switch things up. “I want to spend the last hour working on the solos,” she told Liberty and Gracie. “The rest of you, take five.”
They decided to stroll around the lobby, scouting out the competition as it rolled in on buses from around the country. Bria spotted some of their old rivals, but it was Scarlett who saw Mandy and Anya first.
“They’re baaaack,” she said.
“Anya is registered for a Senior Solo,” Bria said as she checked the program. “So at least City Feet isn’t lying today.”
“Not that we know of,” Rochelle pointed out.
Scarlett checked the program to see what else City Feet was dancing. It was no surprise that Mandy had an acro routine and that Anya was performing ballet. Then she read the name of their group number: “Frenemies Forever.”
“What do you think this means?” she asked the girls.
“Ick! You don’t think Justine is trying to embarrass Toni in front of everyone, do you?” Rochelle asked.
Just then, another person caught Scarlett’s eye: Justine. She was standing in the lobby, checking her watch and sipping a cup of coffee.
“She looks like she might be waiting for someone,” Rochelle said.
Scarlett remembered the e-mail they had sent. “This is terrible. She and Toni cannot have a showdown right before Nationals!”
“All we have to do is keep Toni away from her,” Rochelle explained. “If Toni doesn’t show up in the lobby, Justine will just assume she changed her mind.”
Bria tugged on Scarlett’s elbow: “Don’t look now . . .”
There, walking down the hall and just steps away from colliding with Justine, was Miss Toni.
“Quick!” Scarlett said, grabbing her friends. “Hide!”
They ducked under a table covered in leotards and tutus. They could hear everything but hoped neither of the coaches would catch them eavesdropping.
“Toni. You wanted to talk. So I’m here,” Justine said.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Toni grumped. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Then why did you send me an e-mail?”
Scarlett gulped and braced herself for Toni’s reaction.
“E-mail? I didn’t e-mail you. I told you twenty years ago I never wanted to speak to you again. And I meant it.”
Scarlett held her breath, waiting for Justine to fire back.
“Are you really going to hold a grudge forever?” Justine asked. “I said I was sorry. It’s ancient history. Can’t we just be friends?”
Scarlett peeked out from under the table to see Toni’s reaction. She didn’t look angry. In fact, she looked a little sad.
“When we both were asked to audition for the lead in Swan Lake, you told me it was rescheduled. You made sure I couldn’t show up for the tryout,” Toni said.
“I was scared you were going to beat me. I knew you would; you were better than I was,” Justine said softly. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
Toni shook her head. “You ruined my chances of becoming a principal dancer at ABC, and you ruined our friendship. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find three girls from my team for rehearsal.”
“Poor Toni.” Scarlett sighed.
“Poor us!” Rochelle said. “She’s going to kill us if we don’t get back into rehearsal!”
As they crawled out from under the table, Miss Toni was standing right there, hovering over them.
“You girls have some explaining to do,” she said sternly. “But we don’t have time now. Get inside—we have only forty-five minutes before the start of the competition. And I am not letting Justine beat us again.”
The Divas rehearsed the group routine a dozen times in the dressing room until Scarlett’s calves were burning.
“I want it clean and sharp!” Toni commanded. “Liberty, your arms need to come over your head straight. And Bria, you need to run farther downstage, over there. A six and a seven and an eight . . .”
Finally, it was time to get changed into their costumes.
“I don’t need to tell you how important this competition is for us,” Miss Toni told them. “There are going to be some very important people watching in the audience: talent scouts, agents, Broadway producers. Give it a hundred and ten percent tonight.”
Scarlett was sure that Justine was giving her dancers a similar speech. She felt like all the girls were caught in a tug-of-war between the two dance coaches. Back in the dressing room, there was even more drama brewing.
“Scarlett, you have to help me!” Rochelle dragged her over to a corner where an argument was taking place between Rochelle’s and Liberty’s mothers.
“Honestly, you cannot tell me that you think Zumba is an art form!” Jane Montgomery was saying. “It’s a complete waste of time. I would never call it dance!”
“I didn’t ask you!” Rochelle’s mom protested. “I simply said I was going to teach a Zumba class at Rock’s school.”
“Well, if you don’t want a professional opinion . . . ,” Jane said. She stormed off to unzip Liberty’s costume from its garment bag.
“See what I mean?” Rochelle said. “It’s getting ugly in here, too!”
“Relax.” Scarlett patted her on the back. “Everyone is just a little tense because of the competition.”
“Oh my gooshness!” she heard Gracie exclaim. Gracie was hovering around Liberty’s costume rack, hoping to see her solo costume unveiled.
“Is that for real?” Rochelle gasped when she saw Liberty dressed in a gold lamé leotard covered in dangling strands of nickels, dimes, and quarters.
“The money on it? Yes. It’s real,” Liberty replied. Her solo was called “Jackpot,” and Liberty looked like a human slot machine.
Scarlett cracked up. The costume was truly over the top.
“It’s kind of heavy,” Liberty complained as her mom secured the straps.
“Well, it’s made of coins . . . What did you expect?”
“I can’t really move very well in it.” She tried to lift one of her arms, but the entire sleeve was dripping in coins. “Mom, this is crazy! It weighs a ton!”
Her mother hurried her out the door. “Deal with it,” she said. “You think Katy Perry complains when they dress her in cupcakes? We all must suffer for our art.”
Liberty was the last dancer up for Junior Solo. A girl from Move Manhattan went before her—and she had already set the bar high with a nearly flawless lyrical routine.
“Next up, Liberty from Dance Divas, performing a contemporary dance, ‘Jackpot.’”
Liberty walked out onstage, the coins on her costume clinking and clanking with every turned-out step.
As the music began, she darted back and forth, then spun out into an arabesque turn. A quarter went flying off, landing in a judge’s lap.
“Oh my gooshness!” Gracie squealed from the wings. “She’s losing her money!”
Another coin landed with a plunk on the stage as she did her grand jeté; two more as she chaînéd across the floor.
By the time the dance was over, Liberty’s costume was certainly lighter. The audience was digging under their seats trying to gather up all the spare change.
“Was that supposed to happen?” Bria asked.
“Let’s hope the judges think so,” said Liberty’s mom, mopping her brow with a pink silk scarf.
Liberty stormed offstage. “I am humiliated!” she wailed. “My entire costume fell apart!”
“Wow,” said Mandy, making her way toward the stage for the Petite Solos. “Thanks for the change for the candy machine!” She waved a handful of coins under Liberty’s nose. She was dressed in a green velvet jumpsuit for her acro solo, “Leapfrog.”
Liberty gritted her teeth. Scarlett was afraid Liberty would do something they’d all regret, so she held Liberty’s arm and said cheerfully, “That was so cool! How’d you time the coins to come off at just the right moments like that?”
“You mean, it was on purpose?” Mandy asked.
Liberty picked up where Scarlett left off. “Of course. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to rehearse that routine?”
“It was coin choreography,” Scarlett added. “Which is pretty cool, don’t you think?”
Mandy nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess . . .” Then she hopped off to perform her dance.
Liberty looked down at her tattered costume. “Thanks for not making me look any more stupid than I already do,” she told Scarlett.
“On the bright side, your turns were amazing,” Scarlett said.
“And the judges probably appreciated the tips!” Rochelle chuckled.