CHAPTER SEVEN
IN SYNC
At school on Monday, most kids were talking about Chery ending Ess Robinson Middle School’s winning streak.
“We’re jinxed,” one of the cheerleaders said. “And the football game is on Friday.”
Day-Day stopped by Chery’s locker. “It’ll blow over,” he said.
But things didn’t blow over. Kids whispered about it loud enough for Chery to hear. And at dance practice, Ana was staring at her every time Chery looked up.
Day-Day danced beside Chery.
“Why are you moving like that?” he whispered.
Chery raised her hand stiffly. She moved mechanically and counted every step.
“I’m dancing,” she said, her voice lifeless. “Just like everyone else.”
After class, Miss Miller pulled Chery aside. Like Chery’s mother, Miss Miller told her a few stories about having stage fright. But it didn’t comfort Chery. All the students were mad at her for ending the school’s winning streak.
When Miss Miller finished her pep talk, Chery joined the team. They were discussing outfits for the regional team competition.
“Two words: solid gold,” Ana said. “My aunt gets early access to the best stuff every season. She said we’re bound to stand out. Also, if you place the order through DanceYes! you’ll get half off.”
Fran’s dance catalog was passed around. Everything in it shimmered. Even the prices.
Chery had gone to a flea market for her last outfit. How could she get her mother to spend that kind of money? But after messing up at the competition, she didn’t want to be the only negative voice.
Miss Miller locked eyes with Chery. Then she said, “Remember, hip-hop style is flexible and unique. The clothes you wear should reflect you. And everyone on the team should have a say.”
“But my aunt knows what’s hot in the dance world!” Ana said with a huff. “Anyone want to challenge her?”
The dancers looked at each other, but no one spoke.
Miss Miller looked directly at Chery as though she expected her to have something to add.
Chery shook her head. She had felt totally underdressed and out of place at the last dance competition. She was willing to listen to people like Ana and her aunt, who knew what to wear.
Chery would just have to convince Mom.
That night, Chery poured her favorite bean sauce over her rice. But she didn’t eat it.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“The dance team is wearing gold to the competition.”
“Okay,” Mom said, taking a bite of fried plantain. “There’s this thrift store—”
“No!” Chery shouted. “It can’t be from a thrift store or a flea market. It has to be from where everyone else buys it—DanceYes! And I know the reason I’ve never been in dance class before is because we can’t afford it. But I can’t stand out anymore.”
Chery stopped talking when she felt her mom’s warm hand rubbing her arm.
“If it’s really that important to you, I’ll do what I can to make it work,” her mom said.
“Really?” Chery said.
“Really,” Mom replied.
Things were finally working out. Her mother would make sure she was dressed like the team. And Chery would memorize the dance. Now she would be exactly like everyone else.