Scarlett Borden rummaged through her dresser drawer searching for a pair of pink ballet tights for class. She was sure she’d seen them in there just yesterday. There were leg warmers, shorts, harem pants …
“Mom,” she called. “Did you take my pink mesh tights?”
Her mother poked her head into Scarlett’s room. She had a handful of student papers she was grading, and her reading glasses were perched on the tip of her nose.
“Honey, why would I take your tights?” she said and sighed. “Do I look like one of the Dance Divas to you?”
Scarlett had to chuckle. The image of her mom on a girls competitive dance team was pretty silly. She could just imagine her trying to do a grand jeté with bent knees across their kitchen!
“Um, guess not,” Scarlett answered. “No offense …”
“None taken,” her mother replied. “My feet hurt enough from standing in front of a classroom all day. I can’t imagine being en pointe!”
Scarlett continued searching in her dance bag. “I just can’t understand where they could have gone. I swear I had them when Gracie came in my room and asked me to help get her Monopoly game from the closet.”
Just then, a thought popped into Scarlett’s head: Where had Gracie been while she was climbing on a step stool to reach the top shelf of the hall closet?
“Excuse me, Mom,” Scarlett said. “I think I know who took my tights.”
She stormed into Gracie’s bedroom. Her little sister was sitting on the floor, surrounded by a pile of Barbie dolls. “Shhh!” Gracie held up a finger to her lips. “This is the final round of the Miss Beautiful Doll Pageant. It’s the interview.”
She waved a Barbie in the air and pretended to speak for her in a Southern twang. “Y’all should vote for me! If I’m crowned Miss Beautiful Doll, I will save all the trees and the oceans. Oh, and the pigs!” She held up her favorite plush pink pig, Petunia, the one she tucked into bed every night.
Scarlett shook her head. “I didn’t know pigs were endangered.”
“Hello? Do you know how many people eat pork chops and bacon?” Gracie replied. “I vow to save all the piggies of the world!”
Scarlett had just about enough of Gracie’s silly games. “I want my tights back,” she insisted and held out her palm. “Now.”
“I don’t have your tights, Scoot,” Gracie said. “What would I want with your dumb old tights anyway?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Scarlett caught a glimpse of one of Gracie’s dolls. She was wearing a makeshift pink strapless gown, dotted with red nail-polish polka dots. It looked vaguely familiar.
“Is that …?” she began, and reached for the doll.
“No!” Gracie scooped it up before she could get to it. She hid it behind her back.
“Gracie, let me see that doll’s dress,” Scarlett said, gritting her teeth.
“Nuh-uh!” Gracie insisted. “I worked really hard on that pageant gown. You can’t have it.”
Scarlett knew it was no use trying to wrestle it out of her hands. Gracie was quick—and slippery. She needed to be smart.
“Okay, whatever,” she said. “I don’t want your doll.”
“You don’t?” Gracie asked.
“Nope. I want Petunia!” She grabbed Gracie’s favorite stuffed animal and held it high in the air. “Hand over the Barbie or Petunia takes a swim in the toilet bowl.”
“You wouldn’t!” Gracie howled. “I’ll tell!”
“Tell all you want. She’ll be soaking wet and flushed by then.”
“Mommy!” Gracie yelled.
Scarlett walked toward the doorway. “I hope Petunia knows how to piggy paddle …”
“Okay! Okay!” Gracie finally gave in. “You can have the doll. Just give me back my pig.”
They swapped, and Scarlett took a close look at the doll’s dress. It was pink mesh—just like her tights. “Gracie, how could you?” Scarlett gasped. “You cut up my tights?”
Gracie nibbled her nails. “I needed something pretty for the evening-gown round,” she said. “You can have ’em back.” She handed Scarlett the tights she had hidden under her bed. One foot was missing.
“What am I supposed to do with those now? I can’t wear that to class with Miss Toni!”
Scarlett’s dance teacher freaked if she had a single snag in her tights. She couldn’t imagine what she’d think of a pair missing an entire foot.
“You are so buying me a new pair!” Scarlett shouted.
“I don’t have any money!”
“What about your piggy bank?” Scarlett asked. “Gram always fills it with spare change when she comes to visit.”
Gracie stamped her feet. “That’s my money. I’m saving up for a Barbie Beach Cruiser.”
This time it was Scarlett’s turn to tattle. “Mom!” she called downstairs. “Gracie ruined my ballet tights!”
“Work it out, girls,” their mother shouted from her home office. She was up to her ears in papers that needed to be graded.
“You’re too old to be playing with Barbies!” Scarlett shouted at her sister. “Dolls are for babies.”
“I’m not a baby!” Gracie yelled.
“You’re a baby … and a tights thief,” Scarlett fired back.
“Oh yeah? Well, you don’t even know what I did with your red leotard!”
Scarlett gasped. “My red leotard? The one I wore for the ‘Gotta Have Heart’ number at Rising Stars?” She remembered it well: it was a beautiful crimson velvet with gold studs around the neckline. She’d taken first place in the Junior Solo category when she wore it. “You’d better not have put my leotard on some stupid Barbie!”
Gracie smiled. “I didn’t put it on a Barbie.” She pointed to the corner of her room where she had staged a procession of dolls walking on a red carpet.
“You cut up my leotard to make a red carpet?” Scarlett fumed. “Gracie, this is the last straw!” She began chasing her little sister around the room. Gracie screamed.
“Okay, that’s enough!” Their mother appeared in the doorway to referee. “You girls have got to learn to stop fighting!”
She turned to Gracie. “You will pay your sister back for her tights and leotard out of your allowance,” she said sternly. “As long as it takes you to do so.”
“And you,” she said, facing Scarlett, “will stop picking on Gracie.”
Both girls pouted.
“Now if you don’t mind, I have papers to grade.” She looked at her watch. “And Scarlett, you have fifteen minutes to get to ballet class.”
“Without tights?” Scarlett sighed. “Miss Toni is going to kill me!”