Panic (2 page)

“Any hints?” Diamond asked, teasing. Justin knew she really wanted the lead in that show—the part of Wendy.

“You know me better than that, Diamond,” Miss Ginger said, her voice stern but kind.

“I'm just so amped up!” Diamond said, doing a couple of piqué turns across the floor.

“First things first,” Miss Ginger told her. “We've got to get through our spring showcase, which is
tomorrow
!”

“I'm just sayin' . . . ,” Diamond said to anyone who was listening as she pretended to float across the floor to her place on the barre. She twirled in place, then grinned at Justin, who just shook his head in bemusement.

Miss Ginger called the class to order, and the rest of the students trickled in from the café, the dressing rooms, and the lounge. She plugged her iPod into the speakers, chose a song, and gave a clap, “Let's begin. We have a performance in less than twenty-four hours, and we have so much to do.”

Justin exhaled and then smiled to himself.
It doesn't get better than this.

CRYSTAL POINTE DANCE ACADEMY CAST LIST FOR PETER PAN

Posted Friday, April 12

“All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspects that

the danger may be creeping up from behind.”

—from
Peter Pan

“We're swingin' by the mall to get new tights for tonight's performance, Mom,” Diamond yelled up the stairs.

“Didn't I just buy you tights last week?” her mother answered as she leaned over the railing.

“Those were
pink
tights, Mom. I need beige ones. Pink is just for ballet!”

Mrs. Landers threw her hands up in frustration and
came downtairs. “I can't keep up with you kids and your dance stuff. So when do you need the red tights?”

“Those were for that little show we did at the middle school last week. Don't you remember?” Diamond looked at her friend Mercedes Ford, who grinned at the nearly identical “mom conversations” they both were forced to endure before they left the house.

“Now tell me again what time the show starts and where it's going to be,” Diamond's mother said.

Diamond sighed. “Seven thirty, Mom. Miss Ginger is using Broadway High's auditorium for this performance, remember? You got the tickets?”

“I got the tickets. Shasta and Dad and I will be there, right up front.”

“Remember, this is just the spring showcase—I don't have a very big part tonight. And I'm in the back row.”

“I don't care. I simply love watching you dance, even if you're only onstage for a hot minute,” her mother said, smoothing Diamond's curly brown hair and adjusting her pink flowing cover-up so her bra straps didn't show. “You know I wouldn't miss this.”

“Can I come to the mall with you?” Diamond's nine-year-old sister, Shasta, asked, popping in from the kitchen. She was busy peeling a banana.

“Sorry, Shasta-blasta. Not this time. We've got rehearsal, and this show is just for the older kids. I'll see you after the performance, with Mom and Dad, okay?” Diamond told her.

“Is Justin in the show?” Shasta asked.

“Well, yeah. Duh! He's the only advanced male in our
studio right now. He's, like, vital. Who else can do duos and lifts and stuff?”

“He's cute,” Shasta said with a giggle, stuffing half the banana into her mouth.

“He's sixteen!”

“So?” Shasta tossed the peel in the trash and put her hands on her hips.

“So you better behave, young lady,” Mrs. Landers said with a laugh.

“Don't forget, banana breath, you'll
be
in the next show!” Diamond reminded her. “I am so hyped for
Peter Pan
. Me and you will be together for every single rehearsal and every single performance.”

“That's not till June,” Shasta groaned as she gulped down the fruit. “I need to hang with you so I can learn all the juicy stuff about dance.” She twirled clumsily, stumbled, and caught a teetering lamp just before it toppled over. “Sorry, Mom,” she said as she continued to whirl around the sofa and chairs. Her sneakers blinked and sparkled with every step.

Diamond laughed. “There's no juicy stuff, Shasta, unless you count the sweat.”

“Ick!” Shasta flopped down on the sofa. “Hey! Did Miss Ginger post the parts yet? What did I get?”

“Yeah, she posted them online last night,” Mercedes told her.

“Really? The list is up? Why didn't you tell me?” Diamond's mother asked. “What part did you get, sweetie?”

Diamond shrugged. “I didn't get the role of Wendy like I wanted.”

“
Any
part you play makes me proud,” her mother said.

“Yeah. Well, glad
you're
proud. I get to be Smee the pirate.” She paused, looking at the floor. “That totally sucks.”

Mrs. Landers pulled Diamond close. “You are my star, Diamond,” she whispered into her ear. “Never forget that. And you will be the best Smee ever.”

Diamond leaned into the hug and let her mom smooth her hair.

Shasta, up again and now trying to balance on her toes, interrupted. “What part did I get? Can I be Tinker Bell? I'm little enough.”

Diamond got down on her knees, eye level with her sister. “No, but you can be one of Tinker Bell's assistants!”

“Do I get a cute costume?” Shasta asked warily.

“I think all the little Tinks get costumes that light up!”

Shasta did a happy little wiggle. “Awesome! So let me come with you to the mall so I can get some sparkly tights.”

“You'd have holes in them by the time we do that show.” Diamond laughed. “You've got plenty of time to get your costume together and tons of rehearsals before that.”

“Do I get a magic wand?”

“Probably. I'll ask Miss Ginger.”

“I want a purple one!” Shasta insisted. “Pinkie promise.” She held out the little finger of her right hand.

Diamond hooked her finger to her sister's tiny one. “I'll do my best.”

Appeased for the moment, Shasta headed back to the kitchen.

“Mom, we better go,” Diamond said. “Miss Ginger will kill us if we're late for rehearsal.”

“You be careful driving, Mercedes,” Mrs. Landers said, glancing out the window. “It's pouring rain out there.”

“I will. I promise,” Mercedes replied. “I got my driver's license on a rainy day,” she added, “so I'm cool.”

Mrs. Landers continued to look worried. “And no texting while you drive. You don't need to be on your phone at all until you get to the mall.”

“You got it, Mrs. L. No cell at all. We'll just make a quick stop at the mall, and we'll call you when we get to the school.”

“Bye, Mom. Love you! We'll see you there!” Diamond yelled as she grabbed her hot pink dance bag and headed out the door.

“Bye, girls. Dance well. Can't wait to see the showcase.”

Diamond slammed the door and laughed out loud. “My mother is a trip! I swear!”

“She's just doin' her thing. Don't sweat it.” Mercedes, pulling the hood of her Cincinnati Reds sweatshirt over her head, ran with Diamond, dodging raindrops, to her car.

“Too bad you don't get to drive a car as cool as your name,” Diamond said as she climbed into the sturdy blue 2004 Ford Focus. “Your ride is messed up.”

“Hey, my name
is
my car—no matter what I drive!” Mercedes replied with a smirk. “Today I drive my last name. But a Mercedes waits for me in my future.” She checked her hair in the rearview mirror, nodding with approval. Slicked back and sprayed into a bun, not a strand was out of place.

“At least you got a car.” Diamond sighed. “I can't wait until I get my license. One more year! I'm so sick of my mom driving me everywhere, I could scream.” She glanced at Mercedes' sleek black hair. Her own curls were tousled and unruly. It took practically a whole can of hair spray to make hers behave on performance nights.

“I bet your mother is just as sick of being your driver. My mom can't dance worth nuthin', and she jumped around the house like a hoochie-coochie girl when I got my license.”

“I'm glad I didn't have to see that,” Diamond said with a laugh, buckling her seat belt.

Mercedes turned the radio up. The windshield wipers seemed to move to the music.

“Hey, text Steve for me, will ya?” Mercedes asked. “Remind him to bring my chocolate bars to the backstage door.”

“Can't you just get some from the mall?” Diamond asked her as she took out her phone.

“Yeah, but candy from Steve tastes
so
much better,” Mercedes said, licking her lips.

“You're a mess, girl.” But Diamond tapped in the message. Steve texted back in seconds. “He said he'd bring the candy to his favorite chocolate bunny. Oh, gag me now!”

“He texts me every single morning,” Mercedes said happily.

“Yeah, I know. It's so sweet I can't stand it.”

“You want to hear what he sent this morning?”

“I don't know—do I? My head might explode.”

“He said, ‘Morning, butterfly. Hope you slept well.'
Then he sent me a link to Mariah Carey's old song ‘Butterfly.' ”

“I'm 'bout to choke up in here!”

Mercedes' and Diamond's cell phones then beeped at the same time.

“Who's double-texting?” Mercedes mused.

“Duh. Miss Ginger, reminding us not to be late.” Diamond held up both phones, which blinked the same message.

“Text her back on both phones and tell her we're on our way. We never shoulda taught that woman technology!”

“Oh, man.” Diamond groaned as she glanced at the bars at the top of her phone. “My phone's about to die, and I forgot my charger.”

“I think Miss Ginger has a charger at the studio that will fit,” Mercedes said. “It's probably one you left there! You go through chargers like Shasta goes through Popsicles!”

“True that.”

Mercedes upped the volume on the radio and sang along whenever a favorite song came on. During a commercial, though, Mercedes turned off the radio. She glanced at Diamond a few times, and finally asked, “So, are you upset about not getting the part of Wendy in
Peter Pan
? You've been kinda quiet about it.”

Diamond sighed. “I'm glad Layla got it. She works really hard, and I guess she deserves it. But it's still a bummer. I've never had a lead in any of Miss Ginger's shows. I'm starting to think . . . well . . . that I'm just not good enough.”

“Oh, you're good enough, girlfriend. Maybe Miss
Ginger is saving you for a lead in next year's show. I heard she's doing
Cinderella.
” Mercedes drove in silence for a moment.

“Yeah, but to just be a stupid pirate . . .” She paused.

“But he's the main one after Hook—you get to be onstage a lot,” Mercedes said encouragingly.

“Big fat whoop.”

“Jillian will be pretty good as Peter Pan,” Mercedes continued.

“I figured that role would go to her. I'd never tell her, but she's probably our best dancer.”

“I feel ya. She's flat-chested and skinny and perfect for that part. She's probably texting and tweeting to the world that she got the lead role.”

Diamond grunted. “Yeah, but dressed like a boy. She can have it.”

Mercedes turned the corner to the mall. “Still, it's gonna be a good show—Miss Ginger always turns it out. Justin will be dynamite as Captain Hook.”

“What about you?” Diamond asked. “Are you cool with Tiger Lily?”

“For real, I'm geeked. It's the part I wanted—I'm dying to do that insane fight scene with the pirates. I can't wait for rehearsals to start!”

“I guess,” Diamond agreed, but she wished she felt as excited as Mercedes sounded.

Mercedes, mimicking their teacher's grab-your-guts-and-stand-up-straight voice, said, “All performance experience is good for the soul!”

Diamond cracked up, nodding. “Park by the back
entrance,” she suggested. “It's closer to the dance store.”

“And the food court. I'm desperate for a slice!”

“Me too,” Diamond said, grabbing her dance bag as they headed inside. The rain had slowed to a drizzle.

“Why don't you just leave that in the car?” Mercedes asked.

“I don't care if somebody steals my school bag,” Diamond said, slinging it over her shoulder. “Actually, I hope they do! But my dance bag is my life. It's like I can't breathe without it.”

“You crazy.”

They hit C'est La Danse first. Owned by a woman who had been a dancer in Paris, it was like heaven to Diamond and Mercedes. They could find their favorite Capezio tights and Sansha shoes, plus dance bags, warm-ups, even sparkle-studded earrings and key chains designed to look like ballet slippers.

“Hey, Madame Jolie.” They'd been in the store so often that the owner knew them by name.