CHAPTER 9
Emerson slid on her very appropriate dress, zipped it up, and made sure she hadn’t mussed her French braid. There was a light tap on her door. A half a second later, the door swung open, and her mother stepped inside. Her mother always did that—knocked, then came in without waiting for an answer.
“You look lovely, sweetie-poo,” she told Emerson.
At the use of the pet name, Emerson felt something crack inside her. She suddenly wanted to hurl herself at her mom like she was a five-year-old again and sob out the whole story of her horrible, hideous, humiliating day. How Devane had almost ruined the performance. And how Devane had yelled at her. And most of all, how Devane had tried to blame Emerson for Devane’s getting kicked out of the group. Even though Emerson had nothing to do with it. At all.
But that would mean telling her mother what a big, fat liar Emerson was. And that’s all they’d end up talking about. How wrong it was to lie. And how disappointed her mom— and her dad, because he’d have to be told, of course—were in her. And how she’d ruined her life and her college career by quitting ballet. And how now her mother wouldn’t get her picture in the paper. Well, that wasn’t true. Her mother was always getting her picture in the paper for some charity thing. But how now her mother would get her picture in the paper one less time.
And then Emerson’s parents would strap her into a pair of toe shoes and she’d never, ever get to do hip-hop again.
“You aren’t getting sick, are you?” Emerson’s mother asked, pressing her hand against Emerson’s forehead.
“No. No, I’m fine,” Emerson said quickly. “Why?”
“You just looked pale to me is all,” her mother answered. “Our guests should be coming soon. We should be downstairs to greet them.”
Emerson’s phone rang. Her mother nodded, giving Emerson permission to answer it.
“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay after the ruckus,” a voice began after Emerson said “hello.”
“Sophie?”
“Of course. So are you okay?” Sophie asked.
Emerson glanced at her mother. Her mom was looking through Emerson’s jewelry box, probably searching for the most appropriate necklace. “So you heard about Devane . . . not coming to class anymore?”
“What?” Sophie exploded. “No! Tell!”
“She said she was out. And it was my fault.” Emerson shot another look at her mom. She didn’t seem to be listening.
“I need a lot of details,” Sophie said.
“I can’t right now. My parents are giving a dinner party, and I need to be there,” Emerson answered.
“Okay, second reason I called. My own loving parents want to take me and my sister out to celebrate the show and—well, I’ll fill you in on the other part later. I want you to come with us. Movies tomorrow. We can pick you up.”
“One sec.” Emerson put down the phone. “Mom, one of my friends from, um, dance wants to know if I can go out to the movies with her and her family tomorrow.”
“Which girl?” her mother asked.
“You don’t know her. She’s new,” Emerson said. “Her name’s Sophie Qian. Her parents will pick me up.”
“Sounds fine.” Her mother held up a simple gold chain. “Wear this. It will be perfect with this dress. And don’t be long.”
“Okay,” Emerson said as her mom left the room. She picked up the phone. “Sorry I made you wait. My mom says I can go.”
“Yay! Let me write down your address.”
Emerson rattled off the address, hearing the doorbell ring downstairs. “I have to go let my parents show me off to their friends.”
“Fine, but you’re telling me every single word Devane said tomorrow. We’ll pick you up at one.” Sophie hung up without saying goodbye.
Emerson smiled. She felt like it was the first time she’d smiled in about a week. Then she sucked in a deep breath and headed out of her bedroom and down to the party.
Her stomach started attempting a flare in her belly when she saw Mrs. Hahn in the front hall. Mrs. Hahn, as in the mother of Bailey Hahn. Bailey Hahn, as in one of the girls Emerson had been in ballet with since forever.
Mrs. Hahn was one of those moms who not only went to every recital, but stayed to watch every class. So she knew Emerson’s secret. At least half of it. She knew Emerson wasn’t going to ballet anymore.
“Emmy!” Mrs. Hahn cried. She rushed over and kissed Emerson on the cheek. “It’s been too long. Haven’t you been feeling well?”
Emerson’s mother turned toward them at the question. And Emerson’s stomach started trying to do what felt like cross-legged flares. Not that a stomach had legs. But that’s still how it felt.
This was it. Emerson’s life was going to end right now.
“I thought she looked pale myself,” Emerson’s mother said. “But she said she’s feeling fine, so fingers crossed.”
The doorbell rang. Emerson’s mother started toward it. Emerson’s father asked Mrs. Hahn a question about her golf game.
And the crisis was over.
For now.
But how long until all my lies come out? Emerson thought.
“So Devane said she was out of the group because Gina and Maddy knew you were upset about what she did?” Sophie demanded.
“Yeah.” Emerson flopped down on the padded plastic seat of the bench next to the row of sinks in the movie theater ladies’ room. And Emerson wasn’t much of a flopper. She was a proper sitter-downer. Sometimes she even crossed her ankles.
Sophie snorted. “That’s such bull—baloney. Like Maddy and Gina wouldn’t have minded that she changed the choreography if you hadn’t gotten upset about it.”
“That’s what I told Devane! I told her they’d still be mad even if they hadn’t overheard me saying anything to her.” Emerson sighed. “So why do I feel so bad?” She shook her head. “Right after the show, I was furious. But now, when I think of Devane being kicked out of the group, I just feel kind of sick to my stomach.”
“It’s because you’re way too nice,” Sophie told her. “Or because you’re way too stupid. You haven’t actually started believing that trash Devane spewed, have you?”
“No. Not really. I just—” Emerson shoved herself off the bench. “You know what? We aren’t going to talk about this anymore today. This is supposed to be a celebration of you getting in the Hip Hop Kidz Performance Group and our first show and everything. I’m not going to ruin it talking about Devane.”
“It’s also a celebration of Sammi practically getting into the Performance Group,” Sophie reminded her.
“It is pretty amazing that Maddy asked her to sit in on the Performance Group class when Sammi’s only been taking the basic class for about a week,” Emerson said.
“Amazing. Yeah. That’s our Sammi. She does eight amazing things before breakfast.” Sophie rested her head against the cool plaster wall. “Wow, that came out bitter, didn’t it?”
Emerson shrugged. Which in polite Emerson-speak meant, “Yeah, it came out really bitter, Soph.”
“You want to know a secret?” Sophie asked.
“Yeah. I do. I really do,” Emerson said. “You know mine already. You know my parents have no clue I’m even in the Performance Group.”
“Okay. I’m going to sound like a troll person, but I’m jealous of my sister. There it is. It’s out there. A big puddle of stink. See, Sammi’s good at everything. She’s a cheerleader, but she’s not just a cheerleader—she’s head cheerleader. She’s a great student, but she’s not just a great student—she’s on the honor roll. Fill in about fifty more examples and you’ve got my older sister.”
Emerson nodded. “Sounds kind of hard to live with. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. All I have to compare myself to is the perfect Emerson my parents think I could be if I tried a little harder,” Emerson said. “The one who speaks French like a Parisian. And who definitely doesn’t do hip-hop.”
“I deal with most of the Sammi stuff okay,” Sophie said. “I’m proud of her, even. And most of the time she’s my best friend. But I just really, really wish she hadn’t decided to make Hip Hop Kidz one of her things, you know?” Sophie concluded. “It’s totally selfish, but I wanted it to be just mine.”
“It’s not so selfish to want one thing of your own,” Emerson said. “I want it, too. I want it so much, I don’t care how my parents feel. I don’t care that I have to lie to them pretty much every day.”
The door swung open and Sammi poked her head into the bathroom. “Come on, you guys, the movie’s about to start! You’re missing the celebration!”
“We’ll be right there,” Sophie said. She looked over at Emerson. “Can I get a woo-hoo?”
Emerson pumped her fist in the air and slapped a big grin on her face. “Woo-hoo!”
Sophie had always thought her sister was her best friend. But she was starting to realize that wasn’t true anymore. Emerson was the person she wanted to tell her secrets to and complain to and just have fun with.
“Do you think Maddy will make an announcement about Devane before class or what?” Emerson asked Sophie as they sat in the locker room before class.
“She’ll have to say something,” Sophie answered. “She can’t just—”
The door swung open, and Sophie stopped speaking.
“Talking about Devane?” Chloe asked, dropping her gym bag on the bench across from them.
“Do you have radical bat ears or what?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t think bats have better hearing than people. They do that echolocation thing. But that’s different,” Chloe answered. She started taking earrings out of the multiple piercings in her right ear. “I just figured you were talking about Devane because you looked so hush-hush.”
“What have you heard?” Emerson asked, her face wrinkled up in a worried expression.
Poor Em, Sophie thought. She clearly still has that sick feeling she told me about over the weekend.
“That she got probation because she was such a complete diva at the show,” Chloe answered.
“Probation?” The word came out of Emerson’s mouth in a squeak.
“Wait! Probation!” Sophie echoed. “I heard she was out.”
“She is. Devane supposedly got all huffy about the punishment and quit. M.J.’s about to explode,” Chloe told her.
“Well, that was pretty dumb of her. She should have just taken the probation,” Sophie said.
Chloe shook her head. “That’s not why M.J. was mad. He didn’t think Devane deserved probation in the first place.”
Emerson made a small adjustment to one of her socks. “Do you?”
Sophie wanted to hear this. She couldn’t believe even one person in the group was okay with what Devane had done. But maybe M.J. just thought probation was too harsh.
Chloe shrugged. “Gina is all about respect and rules. And what Devane did—that was like smacking her in the face. You don’t just trash Gina’s choreography without a world of pain coming down on you. That’s almost like breaking all the rules at once.” Chloe started de-earringing the other ear. “I mean, why am I sitting here pulling all this stuff out of my ears? Because Gina says only one pair at a time in class.”
“I’m still freaking. It might not look like I’m freaking. But I’m freaking,” Sophie said. “So Devane just basically told Maddy and Gina to shove it?” Leaving a spot open that Sammi might be able to take? the smelly little troll voice asked.
Chloe raised her eyebrows, which seemed to remind her that she had a little gold loop in the right one. “You sound surprised. Devane isn’t exactly the kind of girl who thinks she should be told what to do,” she said as she pulled the loop free. “Be back in a minute. I have to take a whiz.” She covered her mouth and smiled through her fingers at Emerson. “I mean, use the facilities.”
“Does everyone think I’m a complete priss or something?” Emerson cried when Chloe had disappeared into the bathroom. “Like they can’t even say ‘whiz’ in front of me or I’ll have a conniption?” She threw up her hands in exasperation.
“Jeez, calm down. I think you might actually have raised your voice,” Sophie said.
“See, even you think it,” Emerson accused.
“You want me to say ‘whiz’ in front of you? I’ll say it instead of ’hi’ from now on,” Sophie promised.
Emerson let out a sigh that sounded like it came from the bottom of her feet. “No, it’s just . . .” She took another look around the locker room. They were still alone. “Do you think everyone thinks I’m a total rule-follower? They all heard me yell at Devane for changing the choreography and cutting in on my solo. What if they think like Devane? What if they think Gina and Maddy only put Devane on probation because I made a fuss because I’m such a priss?” Emerson rubbed her face with her fingers.
“You’re not a priss because you got on Devane for shoving herself into your solo. Pretty much anyone in the group would have wanted to kick her tail for that. I would have for sure,” Sophie told her. “Devane just wants someone to blame for what happened. You saved her bacon out there. She should have been kissing your feet after the show. Each and every little piggy,” she added, trying to make Emerson laugh. It didn’t work. “Just because covering for her onstage wasn’t enough to keep her from getting probation—that’s not your fault.” Sophie hoped some of this was sinking into Emerson’s noggin. “And it’s definitely not your fault that the Diva had a temper tantrum and quit.”
Max burst into the locker room. “Devane’s out!” she exclaimed. “Devane’s out of the group!” Her voice became higher with every word.
“We were just talking about that,” Sophie told her.
Max put on an exaggerated pout. “I wanted to be the one to tell.” She started stepping up and down on one of the benches like she was in step class. Not that Sophie had ever been in step class. But she’d seen a few while she was channel surfing. Before hip-hop, channel surfing was her main form of exercise.
The locker room door opened again and Sammi hurried in, followed by a few sweaty girls who were probably in her basic class and Becca from the Performance Group. The basic class kids were usually changing out of their dance clothes while the kids in the Performance Group were using the locker room to get ready for class. “I’m serious,” Sammi was saying to the girls. “No detail is too small.”
“I saw him drinking a Yoo-Hoo once.” Becca laughed as she unzipped her backpack and pulled out her sneakers. “You’re telling me that detail isn’t too small?”
Emerson raised her eyebrows at Sophie, asking a silent question. Sophie shrugged. She had no idea what her sister was talking about.
“Nope,” Sammi said. “That’s one point for Becca. Remember, whoever gets the most points wins a fabulous prize.” Sammi opened her locker. “Whoever gets the most points wins—” She rummaged around inside the locker. “Wins this fabulous People magazine that is only two weeks old.” Sammi held up the magazine and riffled the pages.
“What do you have to do to get points?” Max asked, dropping to a seat on the bench.
“One fact about ill papi equals one point,” Sammi answered with a grin.
The troll in Sophie’s head started to stomp around. So Sammi hadn’t given up. Clearly she was determined to get ill papi interested in her. And when Sammi was determined to get something—watch out. She’d do whatever it took. That’s why she was the best at everything she did.
Sophie shot a glance at her sister. You’re gonna get a spot in my Performance Group any day now, she thought. Do you really, really need to get the hottest guy in the group, too?
Of course it’s going to take a little more effort to get noticed by the hottest guy in the place, Sammi thought. He’s used to having tons of girls pay attention to him. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to get in game head for another “accidental” encounter with ill papi.
You look great, she told herself as she blotted her lipstick on a rough brown paper towel. And you’ve studied for the test. You’ve done your research.
Well, this is a first—you’re giving yourself a pep talk before meeting a guy, Sammi thought as she shook her head at her reflection, then turned and hurried out of the bathroom, through the locker room, and into the hallway. She’d spent so much time prepping, she had to find ill papi fast or the Performance Group class would start before she got a word out.
Oh, score. There he was. Over by the soda machine. She could go over and complain to him about how it was always out of Yoo-Hoos. But that didn’t seem like exactly the right thing to bond over.
She couldn’t believe she was putting this much thought into what to say. She’d never had to plan like this with any other boy. But ill papi was a special case.
Sammi ran through the facts she’d learned about him. It wasn’t a long list. That ill papi, he was sort of a boy of mystery. She knew he drank Yoo-Hoo. He liked those Madden NFL PlayStation games. He had an Aqua Teen Hunger Force sticker on his backpack. Max had seen him pet one of those little black-and-white dogs with the big ears one time.
And that was it.
Yoo-Hoo is a risky opener, Sammi thought as she walked toward ill papi. She could imagine the convo. Her: I love Yoo-Hoo. They should have Yoo-Hoo in this machine. Him: Yeah. Then nothing.
Sammi had never played Madden NFL, but she did know football. She’d cheered for a ton of games, and she knew exactly what went down on the field. But how to bring the whole thing up? Her: You might not know this, but I’m a cheerleader and I love football. Do you perhaps love football, maybe of the video game variety? Him: Let me get your sister. You seem to be having some kind of brain malfunction.
There was no more time for strategy. She was two feet away from him. It was now or never. Sammi pretended to study the soda available in the machine. “I saw that Aqua Teen sticker on your backpack the other day. I love that show,” she said.
Actually, Sophie loved that show. But Sammi had half watched it while Sophie was watching it. It was about a hamburger, some french fries, and a Coke—she thought it was a Coke—fighting crime. Or solving mysteries. Or something.
“It’s pretty funny,” ill papi answered. Then he walked off.
Without even looking at her.
“Becca was looking at me funny in the locker room. I think she thinks that it’s my fault Devane’s out,” Emerson told Sophie as they headed to class. Emerson hesitated outside the door. She wasn’t ready to go in there. “How many other people do you think blame me?”
“I told you. No one is going to think it’s your fault. Becca was probably looking at you weird—if she even was—because she’s trying to figure out how it’s possible for a human to get her hair into such a perfect French braid. She probably wants to know if there’s a special device you use but is feeling embarrassed to ask.”
Emerson laughed. She couldn’t help it. There was something about Sophie. No matter how bad you were feeling, she could make you feel better . . . just by being Sophie.
“Now come on.” Sophie took her by the arm. “Others need to see the braid. Don’t deny them.” She tugged Emerson into the practice room.
Max, Chloe, M.J., and Fridge were already inside. And all of them were staring at Emerson. At least that’s how it felt. But maybe she was overreacting. Maybe they’d glanced over at her the way you glance at anyone who enters a room. Just to see who it is.
But the thing was, glances and stares last a different amount of time. And M.J. and Max were definitely staring now. “Hi,” Emerson said, feeling her face heat up. She had one of those faces that really showed a blush, too. She hated that.
“Hey,” Chloe answered with a smile. She stepped forward in a lunge and pressed the heel of her back leg down, stretching out her calf muscle.
“She clearly hates you,” Sophie joked softly. Then she gave Emerson’s arm a squeeze and released her.
M.J., Fridge, and Max hadn’t said anything. But it’s not like a quiet little “hi” required some big response. Or any response.
Gina usually had the class work on the Kanye West number after warm-up, so Emerson headed to her opening position on one side of M.J. As she looked at him, Chloe’s words went through her mind.
M.J.’s about to explode.
Doesn’t mean he blames me, Emerson thought.
She cleared her throat, then made herself speak. “Hey, M.J., I can’t wait to do the Kanye number at Disney World, can you?”
He turned and stared at her. Full-on, no-mistake stared at her. And didn’t say anything. She’d asked him a question. She hadn’t just spit out a little “hi” that someone could answer or not answer.
O-kay. M.J. was dissing her. And it could only be about Devane.
“Em,” Sophie called from across the room. “I saw this cool combo on TRL last night and I’m trying to break it down. Help me?”
“Sure,” Emerson answered. Thank you, thank you, thank you, she added silently to Sophie. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and headed over.
The twins came in as Sophie started showing Emerson the steps. They were talking to each other, ignoring Emerson and everybody else, but that was normal.
“Why is it so quiet in here?” Ky asked when he entered. No one answered. He shrugged. Bounced his basketball a few times, then stashed it in the corner.
He doesn’t seem mad at me, Emerson thought. She wished she could just focus on the moves she and Sophie were working on instead of trying to put everybody who came through the door into either the friend or enemy camp. Make that enemy or not-enemy camp. Right now Sophie was the only one who really felt like a friend.
Ill papi came in, followed by Sammi a few moments later. Neither looked especially happy. But neither paid any attention to Emerson.
Then Gina entered, and the whole group came to attention. “I have an announcement,” Gina said.
Here it comes, Emerson thought, trying to brace herself.
“Well, two of them, actually,” Gina continued. “I’m pleased to announce that Sammi Qian will be sitting in on our classes. She’s a talented dancer, and Maddy and I think she’s someone who might be a great part of the Performance Group somewhere down the road. Everyone give her a big welcome.”
There was some applause, but not much. Emerson felt bad for Sammi. The lack of enthusiasm didn’t have anything to do with her. It’s just that everyone knew Sammi had been brought in as a replacement for Devane.
Gina used her fingers to push her curly hair away from her face. “Second, I’m sorry to say that Devane will no longer be with our group.”
“Sorry, right,” Emerson heard someone mutter. She thought it was Fridge.
“Does someone have something to say?” Gina asked, her voice crisp and cool, her eyes narrowed on Fridge. Clearly Gina thought he’d been the speaker, too.
Max raised her hand. “Go ahead,” Gina told her.
“Why?” Max asked.
Gina hesitated a moment. “Maddy and I had decided to put Devane on probation for changing the choreography at the Gulliver Academy show,” she answered. “That was unacceptable to her, so she chose to leave Hip Hop Kidz.”
“Why?” Max said again.
Gina frowned. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Why was she going to get probation?” Max burst out.
“I’ve just explained it. She changed the choreography. She could have ruined the performance for all of you,” Gina said, color rising to her cheeks.
“All of us?” a girl—Emerson was almost positive it was Becca—said very softly. “Don’t you mean one?”
“You still think no one believes it’s my fault that Devane got kicked out?” Emerson whispered to Sophie.
