Two to Tango (3 page)

Sharp and strong was something Rochelle could do. She darted back and forth, narrowly escaping Hayden as he chased her around the stage.

“Fierce! I want to see fire! Attack!” Miss Toni called after them.

Hayden growled at Rochelle ferociously, then laughed. “I feel like my bulldog, Buster, when he's chasing a squirrel around our backyard.”

Rochelle pounced forward, practically knocking Hayden off his feet.

“That's it! That's it!” Toni shouted. “Good, Rochelle!”

“She's not
that
good,” Liberty grumbled.

Hayden panted and held his hands up in surrender. “I give up! She's too fast for me.”

Rochelle smiled. She loved to win—but she kind of wished Hayden had caught her.

“I'll get you next time!” Hayden vowed, trying to catch his breath.

Miss Toni looked pleased. But Liberty was brooding in the corner.

Both of these things made Rochelle happy.

“That was a good first rehearsal,” Toni said. “I have lots to think about.”

Rochelle hoped that one of those things was giving her the duet with Hayden. She'd never met a boy quite like him before. He was talented, cute, and funny. His only flaw, as far as she could see, was that he was nice to Liberty. Couldn't he see she was a phony? Didn't he realize she was only flirting with him so she could steal the duet and make her look bad in front of Miss Toni?

“Hayden,” Liberty said, taking his arm, “let me show you around the studio. You must be starving after that workout! My housekeeper packed me a delicious snack: chocolate-covered strawberries. Care to share?”

“I love anything with chocolate,” Hayden
replied. She led him through the door and into the studio hallway.

Back in the dressing room, the rest of the Divas had arrived and were warming up for their group rehearsal at noon. Rochelle couldn't hide her disappointment.

“What's wrong?” Scarlett asked. “You were so excited for your solo this morning.”

“It wasn't a solo, it was a duet—which is a good thing because the guy is really cute and nice, but then Liberty was there . . . holding hands . . . and dipped in chocolate!” Rochelle blurted out.

“You're not making any sense,” Bria said. “Slow down. Liberty is dipped in chocolate?”

“No, no, no.” Rochelle sighed, flopping down on a bench. She explained everything: how her devious teammate had asked Miss Toni for a chance to dance with Hayden—and how she was doing everything in her power to win him over and wow their dance coach.

“Sheeshkabos!” Gracie exclaimed. “Who cares about a dumb boy?”

“Gracie has a point,” Scarlett said. “Is all this fighting worth it for some guy?”

Rochelle sighed. “Hayden is not just
some
guy. He's special. He has dimples.”

“My mom says there are lots of fish in the sea,” Bria pointed out.

“Why are you talking about fish?” Gracie scratched her head. “Rock doesn't want a fish. She wants a boyfriend!”

“I
don't
want a boyfriend,” Rochelle insisted. She turned to Scarlett. “Do I?”

Rochelle tried to get Hayden out of her head while the group entered the studio. The last thing she needed was Toni finding out she had feelings for her potential duet partner! Toni believed the only place to show emotion was on the dance floor. That's why she hardly ever cracked a smile, made a joke, or even flinched. And absolutely no one
at Dance Divas had ever seen Miss Toni shed a tear—not when they lost to City Feet, not when their hot-air balloon prop once floated away midperformance, not even when Gracie kicked her in the nose doing a backflip! Toni was one tough cookie—and Rochelle had to admit, sometimes she was in awe of her.
It must be amazing to be that fierce and focused
, she thought.

“I want my strongest dancers front and center for this,” Toni began, looking the girls over. “Scarlett, Liberty . . . and Rochelle.”

“Me? Really?” Rochelle gasped. Usually, her coach stuck her in the back row so no one would notice her bent knees or sickled feet.

“Are you hard of hearing?” Miss Toni snapped. “I don't like to repeat myself.”

Rochelle quickly moved forward next to Scarlett. She wondered what Miss Toni had in store for the group number. In the past, it had been something big, bold, and dramatic—like the “Lions, Tigers, and Bears . . . Oh, My!” number they did at the Smooth Moves competition a
few months ago. They were all animals revolving around a maypole with ribbons to look like a carousel. Toni had a turntable constructed with strobe lights that barely fit in the luggage compartment under their bus. It was as “over the top” as dance competition props get. But if Rochelle knew Toni, she knew she had to have something even bigger in mind.

“You are all aware of the recent hurricane and how it impacted our state of New Jersey,” she began.

Bria's hand shot up. “My school's tennis courts were totally wiped out. And my aunt Maya's basement was underwater. It was terrible.”

Toni nodded. “It was. Our roof here at the studio was damaged, and we lost a few windows, but we were lucky. Some people lost their homes and even their lives. Which is why I've decided to dedicate our group number to the victims of the hurricane. Their strength and courage is going to be our inspiration.”

She rolled in something that looked like a
large fountain and flicked a switch on the side. Water shot up and splashed around the center as lights turned the droplets different colors.

“Cool!” Gracie squealed. “A sprinkler!”

“Our number is called ‘After the Storm,' ” Toni explained. “It's about rebuilding and renewing hope and faith. There's going to be a lot of water involved. I want it to rain onstage. This little fountain is just for practice.”

Liberty stuck her fingers in the stream and shuddered. “It's cold. And wet.”

Rochelle splashed her. “Yeah, water usually is.”

Toni nodded. “Get used to it, ladies. I want to see lots of fluid movement to match the flowing water.”

Over the next three hours, Miss Toni taught them the routine. It was a powerful contemporary dance, with thunder and lightning crashing throughout the pulsing music. It was hard to keep in sync—and not slip on the wet floor—as Miss Toni barked orders.

“Put a
chaîné
in there, Bria! Gracie, keep up! You're a beat behind everyone else. And Rochelle, you're staring into space!”

Toni didn't just want the dance to be technically perfect. She wanted the audience and the judges to be moved by it. She wanted them to feel the effects and the aftermath of a hurricane. When she finally dismissed them, everyone was soggy and exhausted.

“Look on the bright side . . . we don't need to take a shower!” Scarlett said.

Rochelle wrapped a towel around her head. “Five more minutes, and she would have drowned us.”

“Hey . . . did I miss the pool party?” said a voice behind them.

Rochelle spun around.

Hayden!

“Nice hairdo there, Rochelle,” he joked.

She felt her cheeks flush. “Um, yeah, well, uh . . .” Rochelle knew she wanted to stay cool, calm, and sophisticated so Hayden would like her.
But her mouth and her brain just wouldn't work together! She didn't know what to say.

“Um, I, uh . . .,” she said, trying again.

“What Rock is trying to say is that we just came from group rehearsal. A big, splashy number as you can see,” Scarlett piped up.

“Wow. Impressive,” Hayden said. “Is this dance or synchronized swimming?”

“Can't tell you!” Scarlett said as she ushered Rochelle into the dressing room. “Big surprise!”

Rochelle rested her head in her hands. What was wrong with her? Why was she so tongue-tied around Hayden?

“You okay?” Scarlett said, putting an arm around her.

“Fine. Thanks for the save.”

Scarlett smiled. “Anytime. You're right by the way . . . killer dimples.”

“And Liberty is probably all over him at this very minute.” Rochelle sighed.

Gracie poked her head in the dressing room. “I just met your fish,” she told Rochelle. “He's really nice.”

“And cool,” Bria weighed in. “Did you see his sneakers? Yellow Nike LeBron X Elites? Awesome . . .”

“Great. So we're all in agreement that Hayden Finley is an amazing guy,” Rochelle said. “How does this help me?”

“You're an amazing girl,” Scarlett said. “So you're perfect for each other!”

If only it were that easy. If only Liberty hadn't stuck her nose in and stolen both the dance number and the guy. What had started out as a totally happy day was now the wettest, worst one ever!

Nearly every day, Gracie changed her mind about what she wanted to be when she grew up. Some days it was an Olympic gymnast; others it was a backup dancer for Beyoncé. But this Sunday morning, it was a gourmet chef with her own restaurant.

“Breakfast is served!” she called to her mom and Scarlett. She brought a plate of waffles out of the kitchen and placed it in front of them on the dining room table.

Scarlett poked at the stack. Some of the waffles were burnt to a crisp; others were still half-frozen. “How did you cook these?” she asked.

“In the toaster.” Gracie beamed. “Don't forget my secret sauce!” She pushed a plate filled with goopy red liquid in front of Scarlett.

“Honey, is that ketchup?” her mom asked, knowing Gracie's favorite ingredient.

“Not
just
ketchup,” Gracie assured her, pouring a heaping spoonful over a waffle. “There's strawberries in it, too.”

“Frozen strawberries,” Scarlett whispered to her mom. “Help!”

“Well, Chef, you have outdone yourself; this is a meal to remember!” Her mom smiled. “Don't you think, Scarlett?”

Scarlett was trying to find an inch of waffle that was edible. “Oh, yeah. Yum.”

Gracie frowned. “You're just saying you like it, Scoot,” she said, calling her sister by her favorite—and Scarlett's least favorite—nickname. “You haven't eaten anything.”

Scarlett poked at the gooey mess on her plate. “I don't want to eat too much before rehearsal,” she said, rubbing her tummy. “It's just so delicious, I might make a pig of myself.”

“Really?” Gracie asked her. “You're not fibbing?”

Scarlett tapped the tip of her nose. “Is my nose growing like Pinocchio? Then I must be telling the truth.” She hoped Gracie would buy it. Just then, she heard the doorbell ring.

“Saved by the bell!” Scarlett said, jumping up from the table. “I mean, that must be Rock. Time to hit the road for the studio.”

Gracie stuffed a ketchup-soaked waffle in a paper cup and skipped out the door with her dance bag.

“All aboard the Divas mobile,” Rochelle's mother called from the car. Scarlett, Rochelle, and Gracie piled in the backseat and buckled up.

“Here,” Gracie said, handing Rochelle the cup. “I made you breakfast-to-go.”