Best Friends (Until Someone Better Comes Along) (19 page)

Ava was now laughing so hard she could hardly even breathe.
“Snava?”

“Sneaky Ava,” I explained. “You
are
the best creeper and sneaker in our game of Spy. You're the only one who can get through the woods without sounding like a bear or a moose.”

“Am I supposed to be the moose in that example?” Bailey
screeched. “I wasn't that loud when we were spying on Brennan. I can be quiet.” After a moment, she added, “Sometimes.”

“Should I be worried about you girls' safety?” My dad asked, glancing at us in the rearview mirror. We'd told him nothing about our plan since we'd left Ava's house, and he'd been respectful enough not to ask many questions. But now I'm sure our conversation was starting to cross over into the concerned parent realm. It was fair for him to ask a few questions, I guess, since he was the one driving us around on our mission.

Still laughing about Brenley and Snava and Spiz, I told him no, that what we were doing was perfectly legal (if you didn't count the breaking and entering) and would lead to nothing more than a little (okay, a lot of) embarrassment if we were to get caught.

Moments later, Dad pulled up in front of the house two doors down from Skylar's and turned off the car lights. “I assume I'm supposed to keep a low profile out here?” He turned in his seat to look at us and lifted his eyebrows. “Anything else I need to know, as your getaway vehicle driver?”

I smiled at him, a quick gesture of thanks as we piled out of the car. “We'll be back in ten minutes, hopefully,” I said. “But don't worry if it's more like twenty.”

“You're not toilet-papering this girl's house, are you?” Dad asked quietly, out the open drivers' side window. “I'm not sure that's such a cool thing to do these days.”

“Not TP-ing, Dad,” I promised. “Just trying to get Ava a much-deserved spot on the dance team. It's all good, nothing bad. Promise.” I paused. “You trust me, right?”

He smiled. “I do.” Then he did this elaborate hand signal and whistled. “Well, good luck, and I'll see you on the flip side.”

We all giggled, then slipped through Skylar's neighbor's lawn and hid behind the row of neatly trimmed bushes that seemed to divide all of the lawns in this part of town. The hedges were about neck-high—unless you were Ava, and then they were too tall to see over.

“Entry point?” Ava asked, looking up at Bailey and me for guidance.

“Looks like we're going to have to squeeze around to the back,” I said, noticing that the lights in most of the front of the house were dark. There was one lamp on in the corner of the living room, and I'm pretty sure I saw old-man slippers perched on an ottoman. In my mind that meant one thing: parent space, not dance team hangout area.

We crept around the side of the house, snaking along the
ground whenever we had to go under a window. We would have looked completely ridiculous to an outside observer, but (hopefully) no one was watching. So we just kept slipping and soft-stepping and sneaking our way along the side of the house.

Just as we were about to round the corner, something hissed—and moments later, I was hit full in the face with a spray of water. “Sorry!” Bailey called, in her too-loud voice. “I did that. Hose on! My bad.”

Ava and I both shushed her. Bailey leaned over to turn off the hose—and, in turn, the attached sprinkler—that she'd accidentally turned on when she'd brushed against the side of the house.

I was soaked, head to toe. As we made our way past the privacy fence (there was a simple, unlocked gate that led into the backyard), I discovered that when I walked, I now made slurching sounds with each step. “I can't sneak into Skylar's house sopping wet,” I said. “I'll leave puddles and a huge mess.”

“Also, it sort of sounds like you're farting with each step you take, so . . .” Bailey laughed at her own joke. “Yeah. Izzy can't go in. And we already know
I
can't go in, since I'll probably just knock something over or stub my toe and scream
or something. We can't trust me with any project that's supposed to be quiet and stealthy.”

Ava nodded. “I guess that leaves me: Snava. I am prepared for my mission.” We were crouched in a corner of Skylar's backyard, hidden under the swaying branches of a smallish willow tree. A sliding glass door from the walkout basement led to a brick patio, which ended where the lawn began. We were about twenty feet from the door, with a full view of the basement. On the other side of the glass, six girls were getting comfortable on a huge cushy sectional in front of the TV. Skylar had a DVD in her hand, and as we watched, she leaned down and slid it into the DVD player under the TV.

“We need to create a distraction so Ava can get in there without being seen,” I said. “Now.” I jumped up and skittered out from under the tree. “If you see an opening, go!”

Without thinking, I ran back through the gate and around the side of the house. Hurriedly, I pressed the doorbell, waited five seconds, then pressed it again. When no one answered, I pressed it again.

Finally, Skylar's dad came to the door. “Hello, sir,” I said, in my best teachers-and-parents voice. “I was wondering if I could have a word with Skylar?”

“Oh, uh . . .” The guy was obviously confused. “Are you one of the dance girls?”

“Sure,” I said, shrugging. “I just need to talk to her for a sec.”

Skylar's dad stepped away from the door and yelled down the stairs. I held my breath as I waited, beginning to shiver as the water from the sprinkler soaked through my clothes and rubbed my skin. My hair hung in wet black sheets around my shoulders and drizzled trails of water down my shirt.

Moments later, Skylar appeared at the top of the stairs and made her way to the front door. “Hi, Izzy,” she said, trying to sound friendly and cheerful, but I could hear the undertone of suspicion layered in her voice too. “What's up?”

“Um,” I said, flying by the seat of my pants. Why hadn't I thought about how to create a diversion? I'd only thought about how to talk our way out of things if we were caught. “I just—um, I just, uh, wanted to apologize for today and let you know that . . .” I had to pick my words carefully, careful not to repeat any of the things I'd already said on Bailey's DVD—the DVD that we needed to get into Skylar's house. “Actually!” I said, brightening. I tried to infuse my voice with confidence, to not let Skylar see me sweat. “I was just wondering if—”

Skylar cut me off. “Why are you so wet?” She crinkled up her nose. “And I think you have a piece of tree in your hair.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to laugh it off. “Just out for a run. You know, soccer training and all.” I grinned, switching subjects. “Anyway, I was wondering if I could, um, apologize to everyone for being so . . .” Oy. My mom would have me sent to speech therapy if she could hear how eloquently I was fumbling my way through this performance. “For being so, um, disruptive today. And, um, not very good. I'm disappointed in myself.” I pouted, trying to play up the sympathy angle.

“I can let them know you stopped by,” Skylar said, starting to give me a look I was all too familiar with, since it was one of my own “you're a freak” looks.

“No,” I said, reaching out to hold the door open. “Can you just call them up here for a few seconds?”

Now Skylar was
really
looking at me like I was insane. I was acting crazy, sure, but I was acting like this to salvage Ava's reputation. It was worth every stupid thing I had to say if I could distract them long enough for Ava to do her thing. She just needed a minute or two to sneak into Skylar's house, replace the DVD in the player, and get back out again without being seen.

“Listen, I know it's unconventional, but . . .” I ran a hand
through my hair and shrugged. “Could I just dance for you one more time?” I swallowed back the huge lump of embarrassment that was clogging up my throat.

“You want to . . . dance? For me? One more time?” A slow smile crept over Skylar's face. She knew this whole scene had total humiliation (for me, obviously) written all over it. I could tell she was seriously considering letting me dance for her again, just because it would be hilarious. I knew if I were in her position, I'd totally want to see someone make a fool out of themselves by begging for something that I was in the position to give. “If you really want to,” Skylar said slowly. “Come on in.”

“No!” I said, sounding panicky. “I need some extra space, so, um . . . maybe I could dance out here, in the yard?” Oh, oh, oh,
what
was I doing? I seriously hoped this would work. “Can you call the other girls up, and you guys can, like, make a little audience around me?”

Skylar's smile widened, but then she pulled her eyebrows together. “Izzy, are you sure you want to do this? You know it kind of looks like begging . . . which is sort of pitiful.” She was giving me an out. She knew that if I really did this—danced for the dance team members on the lawn outside Skylar's house—I was setting myself up as the joke of the night. Joke
of the month, probably. She was giving me the chance to walk away, to keep this between us, and save myself the embarrassment of humiliating myself in front of the whole team. But I didn't have much choice, since I had to get them all out of that basement room somehow.

“I know,” I said, swallowing back my pride. “It's okay. Yes, I'm sure. I really want to do this.”

Skylar studied me for a second, then said, “Okay. I guess if you really want to dance for us one more time, I'm not going to stop you. It takes—I don't
know
what to come over here and beg for another chance.”

She went inside, and a few minutes later, returned to the front lawn with the rest of the dance team. Obviously, Skylar had already filled them in on what was happening, since they all looked at me strangely when they came outside. A few of them were giggling. “Hi, guys,” I said, stalling for time. I hoped Ava was making her way to the sliding glass door at that very moment. “I just wanted to, um, dance for you one more time. Show you my skills. So thanks for coming, and—here goes.”

I backed up, trying not to look at anyone's face as I started to shimmy and dance on the lawn. I tried to remember my own performance this time, but my body didn't
seem to be willing to cooperate. I knew I looked bad, but it was all in the name of friendship. I heard a few giggles, but I focused on doing as much of my routine as I could remember without the music giving me cues. The whole mess of a routine took less than a minute—but I knew that would probably be more than enough time for Ava to complete our spy mission.

When I finished, I put my hands up in the air and smiled. The girls from the dance team stared at me, as I thought they would. Two or three of them clapped, but I could tell it was just to make me feel less awkward. It didn't help.

“Well,” Skylar said after a moment. “That was . . . interesting.”

I blushed. “Thanks. I also just wanted to say that I know I'm probably not in the running for actually
making
the team.” Skylar lifted her eyebrows. “And that's totally fine—I know I'm not a great dancer. I just wanted to, you know, give it my best shot. So, I, uh, I've done that now, and I guess I'll be on my way!” My voice had gotten high and squeaky, a side effect of the embarrassment, I guess.

“Izzy?” Skylar said, stepping forward. “This whole thing was really random. You know that, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Hey, before you guys go back inside, I
just wanted to say—keep an open mind about the auditions, okay? And enjoy the video!”

“O-
kay
,” Skylar said slowly. “Have a good night.”

The girls all looked at me one last time before they went back inside. As soon as the front door shut behind them, I took a huge breath and blew it out. Then I hustled around the side of the house to rejoin my friends.

When I slipped through the gate and tucked back in under the willow tree, Ava gave me a thumbs-up. “Whatever you did, worked. I had enough time to get in there and swap out the video. I was back out here before anyone saw me!”

I grinned and crouched down. “Let's stick around to see what happens.”

As we watched, the dance team settled in on the couch again. I could tell they were all laughing, which wasn't all that surprising since they'd just witnessed me humiliating myself—big-time—on the front lawn. This was definitely one of those times when I didn't want anyone to be talking about me, since I knew it wasn't good. But I was pretty sure it would be worth it.

A moment later, Skylar leaned over and pushed play on the DVD player. My face came up on the huge flat-screen TV. I looked pretty good! “Hi!” I could see my mouth saying.
“Before you rewatch today's tryouts and make your selections for this year's dance team, please watch this short video. For the record, Ava Young did not steal my routine—regardless of what people may have said and thought. I stole her dance, and this video will prove that to you. She deserves all the credit for her choreography. And also, she's an awesome teacher and would make an amazing future captain. Sit back and enjoy.”

I saw Skylar's mouth drop open in disbelief. All the girls in the basement started talking at once, confused about what was going on. I'm sure the whole situation was made even more confusing because I'd been on the lawn—dancing like a dying chicken—less than a minute earlier. And now here I was, on Skylar's TV screen.

Ava turned to me and smiled. “I hope they keep watching.”

“After what I just did to distract them upstairs . . .,” I muttered, “so do I.”

Bailey's pieced-together video played on, and slowly, the dance team girls stopped talking and actually started watching our mini-movie. The video was choppy and quickly edited, but we'd managed to cobble together a two-minute recap of Ava's summer of dancing. In the video, we included a ton of clips showcasing Ava's amazing dance skills, but we also sprinkled in some good scenes where she was teaching
me what she knew. The bits from early in the month, where I danced like a wet rag, were especially hilarious and made it obvious that Ava would
never
copy my dancing. The dance team girls watched through to the end. I knew we'd done what we could to make sure they could see that Ava truly was a great dancer.