Back at the studio that night, all the girls could think about was the experience at the homeless shelter.

“One lady told me that when her husband died, she lost their house and had nowhere to go,” Anya shared. “I felt so bad.”

“Me, too,” Bria added. “I want to go back there and see Reese. She was just like us. She even dances.”

Toni held up her hand. “Volunteering is wonderful, and I encourage you to do so. But there is a lot more we can do.”

She pulled Bria to the center of the room. “Since you seem to have the walk down, you are going to be the Little Tramp—and the rest of you are going to be society,” she explained.

“What’s society?” Gracie asked. “Is it like a club?”

“Sort of,” Toni continued. “It’s everyone else in the world. They don’t understand what it means to be lonely, cold, hungry, and homeless. So they’re going to turn their backs on Charlie. They’re going to push him away.” She demonstrated a graceful pirouette that landed her facing the back of the room. “You ignore him, shun him—no matter how hard he tries to make you laugh or get your attention.”

“That sounds really mean,” Anya said. “Why would we do that?”

“Because you are showing everyone in the audience how it feels to be homeless. When no one cares or hears you or understands what you are going through.”

“Charlie has no voice,” Bria said. “Like a silent movie.”

“Exactly!” Toni said, patting her on the back. “But we’re going to give him one. At the end of the routine, I want you all to make a circle and lift him in the air. You’re going to literally support him and accept him.”

Liberty looked bored. “So, Bria gets to go up in the air and do a solo and everything and we get to dance around her? That doesn’t sound fair.”

Toni scowled. “Didn’t you learn anything today at the shelter? Enough talking—all of you. I need to fix things.”

Liberty sniffed and took her place in the back line. “If I was going to fix things, I’d make me the star and Bria the background dancer.”

“Well, if I was going to fix things, I’d superglue your mouth shut,” Rochelle tossed back.

“Ladies, I hear whispering,” Miss Toni said, fumbling with the buttons on her MP3 player. “I want concentration. Not gabbing.”

They ran the routine over and over again. Bria started by walking out onstage with the famous Chaplin waddle. She leaped through the air, then froze in an attitude, balancing on her right leg while holding her left at a 90-degree angle in front of her.

“Hold it, hold it,” Toni coached her, “as if you’re frozen in time. Now the rest of you … come forward. Allongé! Liberty, stretch out that arabesque!”

The girls swirled around her. “Let me see balancé—together! As one! Up, down, up, down, relevé, fondu, relevé, fondu!”

Bria started to wobble. Her leg was killing her from standing like a statue for thirty-two counts. “Now, Bria. Crouch down, get tiny, as if you’re trying to hide from the world,” Toni called. Grateful to drop her leg, Bria sunk to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees.

Toni hit a button and the music came to an abrupt halt. Bria looked up, worried she’d done something wrong.

Toni pulled her up to her feet. “I’m not feelin’ it,” she said sternly.

Bria sighed. No matter how hard she tried, there was no pleasing her dance coach.

There was a knock at the studio. “May I make a suggestion?” J. J. said, poking his head inside.

Toni frowned. “Can you not eavesdrop?” She was pacing the floor, trying to come up with a way to make the routine work. Everyone was exhausted, physically and emotionally, from the entire day.

“Well, technically, it wasn’t eavesdropping. It was more like eaveswatching. Through that teeny tiny crack in the door frame,” J. J. said.

“The shades are drawn so no one can see in,” Toni explained. “No one meaning you, too.”

J. J. smiled and ignored her. “So I was thinking, why do we need any music?” he asked. “I mean, it’s called ‘Listen Up,’ and it’s about silent films. Wouldn’t you get more attention if there was no sound at all—just motion?”

The girls looked at Toni for her reaction. “I can’t tell what she’s thinking,” Scarlett whispered to Rochelle.

Toni cleared her voice. “I still hear whispering,” she said. “And I have something important to say.” She turned to face J. J. “I like his idea—but I think it needs tweaking.”

J. J. raised an eyebrow. “Tweaking? What sort of tweaking? ’Cause people don’t tweak Mr. J. J.”

“I like the idea of no sound … until a point. Let’s run it again,” Toni commanded.

The Divas got back into position, and did the entire routine over, this time with no piano music. This time, when Bria crouched to the floor, Toni told her to cover her ears.

“Shut out the pain, the fear,” she instructed her. “Give it eight counts, then open your arms wide! As if you’re letting the rest of the world into your world.”

“What do you hear?” J. J. asked.

Bria listened as hard as she could. “Um, Rochelle panting behind me? Liberty chewing her gum? Scarlett scratching her head?”

Toni gritted her teeth. “No. That’s not what I want. Dismissed for tonight!”

Toni and J. J. huddled in the corner while the girls gathered up their bags.

“I was telling the truth,” Bria said. “And I didn’t even mention Anya grinding her teeth or Gracie licking her lips.”

“I don’t grind my teeth … do I?” Anya asked her teammates. “Maybe just when Toni barks.”

Gracie licked her bottom lip. “I can’t help it. I love this strawberry lip balm!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Scarlett said. “The point is we have less than two weeks before Electric Dance—and no routine or sound track.” She glanced over at Miss Toni, who was deep in conversation with J. J. “I just hope they can figure something out by the time we get to Hollywood.”

“If they don’t, City Feet will trample all over us,” Rochelle added.

Bria gulped. She couldn’t think of anything worse.