Dance-off! (9 page)

“She doesn’t seem very comfortable,” I said. “She looks like she’s walking on stilts.”

“And check out her face,” laughed Kenny. “It’s like she’s sucking a lemon!”

“Who cares whether she’s comfy or not? This is disastrous!” wailed Fliss. “They’re doing ballet, aren’t they? And Emma’s doing proper pointe work! Didn’t I tell you that that’s what Lorna and Sean would go for? They’re bound to win!”

“It’s not good,” agreed Lyndz. “Not good at all. Rosie, that’s what their secret weapon must’ve been – those ballet shoes.”

“I guess,” I said gloomily.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” said Frankie. “And it’s a good job we didn’t decide on a ballet routine ourselves. We would’ve been relying on you, Fliss, so we would’ve been in a right fix now.”

“We’ll just have to stick to our routine,” said Kenny.

When the M&Ms had finished, Lyndz opened the door and we went into the classroom. We heard Mrs Weaver saying, “Emma, are you really sure you know how to dance in those shoes?”

“Oh
yes
, Mrs Weaver,” Emma replied, with a smug glance in our direction. “I go to lessons, you know.”

It was a useful trial run, doing the routine in front of Mrs Weaver. It went quite well, though I bumped into Kenny at one point, which made her forget the steps. Mrs Weaver thought Fliss was brave to be taking part.

“And I like the hand-jive, Felicity,” she said. “It’s very catchy!” As she said this she tried to copy some of the movements, but she got them hopelessly wrong. I didn’t dare look at the others. I knew if I made eye contact with any of them I’d burst out laughing.

“Were we fantastic or what?” said Frankie in the changing room afterwards. “Weaver loved it! We just need to do the same tomorrow and we’ll
definitely
win.”

“Tomorrow’s the scary part,” I said. The thought of dancing in front of Lorna and Sean made me really nervous. They were such cool dancers themselves, I couldn’t imagine they’d do anything but laugh at us.

The next morning the whole school was buzzing with excitement about the party. First thing after Assembly, our class and Mr Pownall’s class joined forces to decorate the hall. Mr Pownall and Mrs Weaver climbed great big step-ladders and strung banners from the ceiling which said:

They hung up the lanterns we’d made in Art, too, while we covered every inch of wall space we could reach with the paintings and collages people had made.

“Those lanterns look so excellent from a distance!” said Frankie. “You’d never guess they’re made of sweet wrappers and tin foil.”

Meanwhile, other classes were helping set up trestle tables round the edges of the room and covering them with big tablecloths. Plates of yummy things like flapjacks, fairy cakes, chocolate brownies and muffins were starting to appear.

“Oooh, what a shame they’re all covered in clingfilm,” said Lyndz, who was practically drooling even though it wasn’t long past breakfast time. “I’d love to sneak a taste.”

I nodded. But to tell you the truth, I couldn’t have eaten a thing, even if you’d wafted the gooiest chocolate cake in the world under my nose. My stomach felt like it was trying to tie knots in itself, and my teeth were chattering, though I had my cardie on and I wasn’t cold.

“What time’s the competition?” I said to Kenny.

“Eleven,” she replied, breaking off a piece of Sellotape with her teeth. “You asked me that five minutes ago!”

“I think I’ll go to the loo again,” I said. That was the other effect nerves were having on me!

At eleven o’clock our whole class was sitting cross-legged in the hall (except for Fliss, of course, who was on a chair with her Christmas-tree leg stuck out in front of her). There were so many different sorts of costumes, it looked like we’d raided a fancy dress shop. Ryan Scott and three of his friends had gone for the RnB look, with low-slung baggy jeans, long-sleeved tops, and baseball caps. One group were all in dark glasses, and there was someone dressed up as Woody from
Toy Story
(“Weird!”, as Frankie said). The M&Ms and Alana had leotards on, and wafty chiffon skirts, which I spotted Fliss eyeing enviously.

But, don’t worry: no one outdid the Sleepoverbabes. As well as my purple T-shirt and pink skirt, I had a silver belt round my waist, and tiny silver butterfly clips in my hair. Kenny looked great in the pink shorts, even though she didn’t like them, and somehow she’d persuaded Molly to lend her a white T-shirt with ‘Kylie’ written in silver across the front. Kenny thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever – “But I love the way Fliss
really
thinks it’s cool!” she whispered to me.

Frankie, to everyone’s amazement, had dug out a silver jumpsuit at the last minute, and she’d been striding around like a space action hero. (She’s got some seriously mad things lurking in the back of her wardrobe!) Fliss was in her salopets, of course, and Lyndz looked ace in a lilac crop top and deep purple mini skirt. We were all wearing trainers and I’d bought some silver laces for mine, specially.

But the finishing touch was the best. Fliss had brought in some silver body glitter – it’s
like moisturiser with sparkly bits in – and we’d all rubbed that on our cheeks and arms, so they shimmered when we moved. In short, we looked mega, MEGA fantastic.

When Mrs Weaver led Lorna and Sean into the hall, everyone went quiet.

“Hi again,” said Sean, with a friendly grin. “It’s good to be back!”

“We’re really looking forward to seeing your dances,” added Lorna.

At which my tummy groaned, and I had to clutch it to make it shut up.

Lorna and Sean sat down, while Mrs Weaver went over to the tape player. She had everyone’s tapes lined up, and was going to call us in turn.

First up were the group in the shades. Then it was Alana and the M&Ms.

They got into position, and Emily Berryman nodded to Mrs Weaver to start the tape. Soon Emma Hughes was tottering around on the tips of her toes.

A second later, Lorna sprang out of her
chair, shouting “Stop!” Mrs Weaver leapt at the tape machine and the music clunked off. Emily and Alana stumbled to a halt. Emma Hughes looked really cross at having been interrupted.

“Where did you get those shoes, Emma?” asked Lorna, sounding quite agitated. “They’re not yours, are they?”

“They are!” said Emma. Now she was beginning to look nervous. “I found them in a jumble sale.”

“
A jumble sale
?”

“What’s wrong with jumble sales?” Kenny whispered to me.

Lorna said, “Pointe shoes must be carefully fitted. You can’t just wear any old pair. And you need years of training before you can dance on your toes.”

Emma’s chin had started to tremble. “I-I’m sorry…” she stammered. “I thought—”

“Oh, Emma!” interrupted Mrs Weaver crossly. “You told me you went to ballet lessons!”

“I do!” said Emma.

“But you don’t wear pointe shoes for your lessons, do you?” said Lorna.

Miserably, Emma shook her head.

“I’m sorry to seem harsh,” said Lorna, coming forward and putting a hand on Emma’s shoulder, “but this is very important. I can see you’re nowhere near strong enough to start pointe work. And if you dance on your toes without the right training it can do terrible damage to your feet. So don’t do it, OK?”

“OK,” mumbled Emma.

“Now, do you want to take the shoes off and start again without them?” Lorna suggested.

I could see that that was the very last thing Emma wanted to do, but she didn’t have much choice.

“So much for secret weapons!” I whispered to Lyndz, who nodded and grinned.

“Serves her right for being so smug,” she whispered back. “Though I feel a bit sorry for her too. It’s dead embarrassing!”

Without the novelty of Emma dancing on
the tips of her toes, the M&Ms’ dance was really boring. Well before the end, everyone was shuffling and fidgeting, obviously wishing it was over.

“Thanks very much, girls,” said Lorna when at last the music came to an end. “That was lovely.” But I could tell she was only being polite.

What a disaster for the M&Ms! They sat down with majorly crabby looks on their faces. Like Lyndz, I was almost beginning to feel sorry for them, but then Mrs Weaver said, “Felicity! Your group next,” so we grabbed our headsets, scrambled to our feet, and all at once we were on!

Step, kick, shoulder, shoulder – hands up, turn around…

As the familiar music blared, I concentrated as hard as I possibly could. Just getting my hands and feet working in the right order felt as complicated as conducting a whole orchestra!

And – miracle of miracles – I made it through the first half of the routine without a mistake. But when I moved to the front for my solo, it was as if someone had suddenly pressed the
‘Erase’ button in my head – I went completely blank! For one dreadful, goose-pimply moment I thought I was just going to stand there like a lemon. But then I found myself repeating two of the steps from the chorus section, over and over. OK, it wasn’t the most exciting solo in the world but, boy, was I relieved! I felt like a goalie in a football match who’d just made a really tricky save.

Fliss’s solo went down a storm, and no one else forgot a thing. At the end there was a big round of applause.

“Were we hot, or what?” panted Frankie, as we went to sit down again.

I was hot all right – but maybe not in the way Frankie meant!

Now that my nerves had totally disappeared I really enjoyed watching the other groups. When it came to the end I’d even forgotten about the competition bit, and that Lorna and Sean were going to pick a winner.

It was only when they left the hall for a few
minutes to talk about it in private that I started getting excited.

“All hold hands!” commanded Frankie. I grabbed Lyndz on one side of me, and reached up to Fliss on the other.

As Lorna and Sean came back into the hall, Frankie sent hand-squeezes back and forth along our line like a Mexican wave. I held my breath. I realised that, even though it’d made me so nervous, I really wanted to win, so we’d have another chance to do our routine.

“You all did brilliantly,” said Sean. “Why did you have to make our lives so difficult by being so good? We nearly came to blows out there trying to choose a winner!”

Everyone laughed.

“And, in fact,” Sean went on, “we’re going to cheat a bit, because we’ve decided we’d like two groups to perform at the party tonight. A winner and a runner-up, if you like.”

“So, let’s get on with the announcements,” said Lorna. “The winner is… the RnB group.
That’s Ryan and company, isn’t it? Well done, guys, it was a brilliant routine!”

I dropped Lyndz and Fliss’s hands to clap along with everyone else. My heart had sunk into my trainers. It made me feel mean, because Ryan and his mates had been really good.

“But that’s not all,” said Sean, “because we simply couldn’t let the party miss out on a bit of hand-jive…”

Hand-jive? I thought dimly. Who did hand-jive apart from us?

“So,” Sean was saying, “Sleepoverbabes – will you strut your stuff for us tonight as well?”

“Yeaaaah!” Frankie punched the air.

“Super-coo-el!” Kenny shouted.

“And I think you should teach everyone the moves,” said Lorna. “You’ll be a big hit!”

And you know what? Lorna was right. We were the biggest hit, I reckon, in the history of Cuddington Primary.

The party was totally fab. The school hall looked amazing. The caretaker, as well as building the stage at one side of the hall, had rigged up coloured lights and an enormous mirror ball which spun round as the music played, reflecting flashes of orange and green and red over what ended up being a scrum of dancing bodies.

Hang on, though – I’m getting ahead of myself, cos to start with no one danced much at all. There were loads of people there: pupils and teachers, mums and dads, kid brothers and sisters, grans and grandpas – all ages from the babies to the wrinklies.

“Wow, lots of people have dressed up,” Lyndz said as the hall started filling up, with everyone congregating round the food and drink tables.

“Yeah, and some of them look really cool,” added Frankie. Then she dug me in the ribs and nodded towards the door. I spun round – just in time to see the M&Ms stalking into the
room wearing nasty matching crop tops and gross stripey leggings. Frankie and I looked at each other. “Not!” we said together, and burst out laughing.