Gracie insisted that the theme of Olivier’s eighth birthday party be something that he loved.
“He’s really into space and astronauts,” she informed Liberty. “He’s been to the planetarium in New York City a gazillion times. And he loves freeze-dried astronaut ice cream.”
Liberty rubbed her temples. “I am not serving freeze-dried food at my par—I mean Olivier’s party,” she said. “We’ll have to come up with a better menu. But I’m okay with the outer space thing. It’s kinda retro.”
“Can we make some invitations and put little gold star stickers on them?” Gracie suggested.
Again, Liberty shot her idea down. “Stickers? What are we, first graders?”
Gracie shook her head. “No, I’m in second grade!”
“What I mean is that we need to do something for Olivier that is more special. I’ll call my mom’s party planner and get back to you.”
The next day at Dance Divas Studio, Gracie was still not talking to any of her teammates except Liberty.
“I like your new leotard,” Anya said, complimenting Gracie. “What do you call that color? Robin’s egg blue?”
Gracie ignored her and continued putting on her jazz shoes.
“My mom made me a strawberry-mango-banana smoothie,” Bria said. “Want some, Gracie?”
Again, nothing.
It was as if they were talking to a brick wall.
Liberty skipped into the dressing room, red envelopes in hand. “Here ya go,” she said, distributing them. “RSVPs required.” She took Gracie’s hand as they strolled out of the dressing room together.
Anya opened the envelope. Inside was a formal invitation printed in gold type:
3-2-1-BLASTOFF for
OLIVIER’S 8th BIRTHDAY!
WHEN: Saturday, November 15, 3:00 p.m.
WHERE: Chez Liberty,
1 Rattlesnake Road, Alpine, New Jersey
ATTIRE: Space Chic!
Luncheon will be served
Rochelle read the invitation a second time. “Does anyone else find it fitting that Liberty lives on Rattlesnake Road? She’s such a snake!”
“What’s ‘space chic’?” Bria asked. “Do I have to dress like Chewbacca?”
Scarlett didn’t know what to say or think. On the one hand, it was very generous of Liberty to throw such an extravagant party for Olivier. On the other hand, she probably had other motives.
“I think we should go as the Divanauts,” she said.
“You mean matching astronaut costumes?” Bria asked.
“We are a team aren’t we?” Anya asked. “I like that idea a lot, and I volunteer to help make them.”
“Maybe we can even put together a dance to perform for Olivier at the party,” Rochelle suggested.
Scarlett checked the calendar on her phone. “We have no Nutcracker rehearsal tomorrow night. So everybody come over to my place and we’ll get sewing and dancing.”
Scarlett put a bag of popcorn into the microwave. “The girls are gonna be here any minute, Mom!” she called into the living room. “Are we ready?”
Her mother was busy fishing her sewing machine out of the closet. “I think so.”
Gracie was watching her favorite TV show, Extreme Fast Food, on the Travel Channel when Scarlett came in carrying a large bowl of hot buttered popcorn.
“Help yourself, Gracie.” She tried to make peace with her sister. “Do you want to be a Divanaut with us?”
Gracie shook her head. “Liberty and I are going as Martian twins,” she said. “Lady Gaga’s costume designer is making us red, glittery alien outfits.”
Scarlett tried to sound enthusiastic. “Cool! You and Liberty are, uh, twins.” She looked at her mom and mouthed, “HELP!”
“Honey, I know you like Liberty,” her mom began, “but don’t you think it would be nice to do something with all the girls on the team, not just her?”
Gracie got up and started walking toward her bedroom. “I wanna be a Martian,” she said, calling back. “Divanauts are dumb.”
Just then the doorbell rang. “Got it!” Scarlett said, racing to let her friends in. “Who’s feeling spacey?” she asked as she opened the door.
“ME!” Anya, Rochelle, and Bria all shouted in unison. The girls set up camp on the couch.
“I found these cool USA flag patches at the craft store,” Bria said, opening her purse. “How awesome would these look on our space suits?”
“Love it!” Scarlett replied. “Bria, did you do the research?”
Bria pulled out a folder filled with photos of authentic astronaut uniforms and gear. “I think we should have white jumpsuits with silver pockets and a big zipper down the front,” she said.
“Let’s make the jumpsuits short—like shorts we’d wear for a dance class,” Rochelle suggested. She had a pile of their old group costumes she found in the studio storage closet—white shorts and crop tops they’d worn for a “Going to the Chapel” wedding routine. “If we stitch them together and put on some trim and embellishments, I think it’ll work.”
They all agreed and started sewing using Scarlett’s mom’s machine. After a few hours, they were done and tried them on for size.
Anya admired herself in the bathroom mirror. “These are great. I hope Miss Toni doesn’t notice we did a little fashion makeover on our old costumes.”
Scarlett agreed. “We look the part. Now we need a fabulous dance routine to perform.”
Bria held up her phone. “I downloaded the perfect music.”
At the touch of a button, an eerie voice filled the room: “Space, the final frontier …” Then Frank Sinatra’s version of “Fly Me to the Moon” started playing.
Rochelle covered her ears. “Oh, no, no, no! Not cool at all!” she said. “My grandma likes that song.”
Bria pouted. “I thought my Star Trek/Sinatra remix was very cool,” she insisted. “I don’t suppose you have any better ideas?”
“How about Katy Perry’s ‘E.T.’?” Rochelle suggested. “No one’s cooler than Katy, and it has a spacey vibe.”
Both Anya and Scarlett agreed.
“Fine.” Bria sniffed. “I’m outvoted. But I think you could have at least given Frank a chance!”