Scarlett knew that any party Liberty threw would be over-the-top—but this one was over-the-moon. When she and the rest of the Divas arrived, they were greeted by several servers dressed in various alien costumes. Liberty’s mom, Jane, was dressed in a gold hooded jumpsuit with matching metallic eye shadow and lipstick.
“Hi, girls!” She waved. “Just call me J-3PO!”
Rochelle rolled her eyes. “Oh boy. This is gonna be interesting.”
“I like the dude with green skin and three eyes,” Bria remarked. “He kinda looks like my uncle Charles …”
A woman with pink hair and antennas offered Anya an appetizer. “Pig in a rocket?” she asked, waving the plate under her nose. Anya took a mini hot dog wrapped in a roll with a triangular hunk of cheese on top. “This is so Gracie,” she told Scarlett. “It’s just too much!”
“Don’t you mean tutu much?” Rochelle teased. “A little ballet humor.”
Scarlett looked around for Gracie. She insisted her mom drive her over early to help Liberty with all the last-minute details and Scarlett hadn’t seen her since. She wasn’t by the platter of star fruit and Mars red velvet cookies, nor was she playing the Saturn’s ring toss game in the living room. At least the birthday boy was having a blast: Olivier was zapping “alien invaders” on the giant TV in Liberty’s den.
“You know what’s missing from this party?” Rochelle asked her friends.
“Darth Vader?” Bria replied, stuffing a flying saucer–shaped ice cream sandwich in her mouth.
“No, our humble hostess,” Rock replied. “I haven’t seen Liberty anywhere.”
“Or Gracie,” Scarlett pointed out.
Just then, one of the four-armed, blue-skinned aliens summoned everyone. “Aliens and astronauts, may I call your attention to the formal dining room,” he said. Everyone filed in to see what was happening.
There, in the middle of the room, was a giant “moon rock”—craters and all.
“Awesome!” Olivier said, knocking on it. “This is so cool!”
“Stand back,” the alien announcer advised him. The room went dark as a laser light show began spinning on the ceiling. Then, in a flash of smoke, the moon rock cracked in half. Out came Gracie and Liberty—the Martian twins—in matching red sequin bodysuits and flowing red wigs. Katy Perry’s “E.T.” boomed over the speakers.
“That’s our song! They stole our song!” Rochelle exclaimed.
Liberty and Gracie did an amazing acrobatic duet filled with flips, spins, and tricks. The crowd applauded wildly.
“We can’t do our dance now—we’ll look like copycats,” Bria whispered to her teammates.
“All that work for nothing. You think it was a coincidence?” Rochelle asked Scarlett. “Or did Gracie eavesdrop and rat us out?”
Scarlett had to admit it was pretty fishy—and just like Liberty to put her little sis up to something so sneaky and underhanded.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said and sighed. “Olivier is happy and that’s what counts. It’s not about our dance; it’s about his party.”
Rochelle glanced over at Liberty, who was bowing and blowing kisses to the party guests. “Really? I think it’s all about Liberty—as usual.”