Two to Tango (5 page)

“Let me see that,” Liberty said, yanking the sketch from her hand. “There are six costumes here.”

“So?” Bria asked.

“So there are only five of us. Who's the sixth girl?”

Rochelle peered closely at the drawing. There were initials under each tattered tutu that Toni had sketched: S. B., L. M., G. B., R. H., and B. C. Then there was one more: A. B.

“Maybe A. B. means ‘a boy,' ” Bria suggested. “Maybe it's just Hayden.”

“In a tutu?” Hayden gulped, looking at the sketch. “Uh-uh. No way!”

“Maybe A. B. stands for ‘Absolutely Brilliant' . . . which would be me,” Liberty suggested.

Rochelle pointed to the drawing of “L. M.” in a pale blue leotard with a tattered shawl around
her shoulders. “Sorry. That's you, Liberty Montgomery. The one in ugly blue rags.”

“There's no use trying to figure this out,” said Scarlett, interrupting the bickering. “If Miss Toni wanted us to know what she was up to, she would have told us.”

“So what do we do now?” Bria asked. “We have no dance coach, no costumes, and we barely have a group number.”

“We just carry on and rehearse without Toni until she comes back,” Rochelle told her fellow dancers. “And we have Toni's sketches, so we can ask our parents to help us make the costumes.”

Liberty crossed her arms over her chest. “And who left you in charge of us?”

Rochelle took a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, Toni did. She said I'm supposed to make sure the group dance is in great shape—until she gets back.”

But a single thought kept nagging at Rochelle: What if Toni didn't come back? What if the
accident with the hose had actually pushed her to the breaking point? What if she had accepted a new job in L.A. coaching a new dance team, like Liberty said? Without Toni Moore, could there be any Dance Divas?

Rochelle stared at the compact disc Toni had given her, recalling what she had said.

“Toni must have been nuts—or desperate—to leave me in charge of our team,” she told Scarlett over the phone that night.

“She trusts you. All you have to do is follow the rehearsal schedule she set up already,” Scarlett replied. “You just run the rehearsal and see where we need work.”

“Me? What about you?” Rochelle said. “I don't want to step on your toes. You're kind of our unofficial team leader—and you're my BFF!”

“Rock, you would not be stepping on my toes. I'd be psyched to follow your lead.”

“Really?” Rochelle sighed. “Well, you're probably the only one who feels that way.”

“Will you stop putting yourself down?” Scarlett insisted.

“And what about my duet with Hayden?” Rochelle added. “What if he doesn't want to be with the Divas now that Toni's not here?”

“I bet he wants to be with you,” Scarlett said. “And Miss Toni did say to practice a lot . . .”

Rochelle stared up at the ceiling from her bed, hoping some answers would magically appear like diagrams on Toni's dry-erase board. She had no idea what Toni was planning or why she'd suddenly dumped all this responsibility on her shoulders.

“And don't forget the solo,” Scarlett reminded her. “Someone from Divas has to do a solo at Leaps and Bounds. Miss Toni never did tell us who that would be.”

Suddenly, Rochelle had an idea. “I think I
know how to decide who gets a solo fair and square.”

“Without hurting anyone's feelings or making Liberty mad? How?” Scarlett asked.

“A Divas' dance-off! We let anyone on the team who wants to do a solo bring it to the dance floor. Then we invite an audience to come watch and vote. The Diva with the most votes gets to do a solo Saturday at the competition.”

“That's brilliant!” Scarlett exclaimed. “And fun! Kind of like
Dancing with the Stars
, but Dancing with the Divas.”

“Exactly! We let the audience choose and get in some practice before this weekend's competition.”

“I know what I'm gonna do,” Scarlett said. “I've always wanted to be the Sugar Plum Fairy in
The Nutcracker
.”

“Go for it!” Rochelle said. “And you think you can convince Gracie to dance onstage by herself?”

“I have an idea that might work,” Scarlett said.

“Awesome!” Rochelle hung up and jumped on her computer. She sent an e-mail to Bria,
Liberty, and Hayden outlining the rules of the dance-off. “Any music, style of dance, costume, or props will be permitted. The only requirements are creativity and the desire to win!”

Her in-box instantly
ding
ed with a message from Bria (“Great idea!”) and another from Liberty (“I am so winning that solo!”). Even Hayden responded right away: “One boy vs. five girls? Count me in!”

Then she made flyers to hang up at the studio. On a bright pink sheet of paper, she wrote:

Divas' Dance-off!
Your votes will choose a soloist for the
Leaps and Bounds competition this weekend!
Come watch the members of the
Divas elite competitive team
battle it out in the ultimate soloist showdown!
When: Wednesday at 4:00 p.m.
Where: Dance Divas Studio

“Battle it out?” Rochelle's mom said, reading over her shoulder. “Showdown? That sounds a
little intense, don't you think? Are you sure Miss Toni would approve?”

“Well, she's not here, is she?” Rochelle replied. “And besides, Toni always tells us a little competition is healthy. It inspires you to be your best.”

“Competition is one thing,” her mom pointed out. “But this sounds like a boxing match. What's your dance?”

Rochelle thought for a moment. She'd been so preoccupied organizing the dance-off, she hadn't even considered her own routine. “I dunno,” she replied. “But it has to be something really cool, really different.”

“Do whatever you like, hon. As long as no weapons are involved.”

“Mom, you're a genius!” Rochelle shouted, leaping up to hug her. “That's it!”

“Oh, no.” Her mom hesitated. “I don't like the sound of that . . .”

“I know exactly what I'm going to do.” She got a mischievous glint in her eye. “You'll just have to come to the dance-off on Wednesday to see!”

Rochelle had never spent so much time in the dance studio. Usually, she was out the door as soon as Miss Toni announced, “That's a wrap for today!” But in her new position—the Divas' substitute coach—she was determined to make sure every detail of their dance-off—not to mention all the routines for Leaps and Bounds—were in order.

Liberty desperately needed a pink spotlight for her solo. “I've searched everywhere,” she complained to Rochelle. “Do you know where the colored filters are?”

Rochelle hated to help Liberty, especially when
she knew all she wanted to do was beat everyone else. But she had promised Miss Toni everything would run smoothly.

“It should be in the prop closet,” Rochelle told her.

“Don't you think I looked there?” Liberty said grumpily. “I couldn't find one.”

Together, they went to the closet and began rummaging through piles of costumes, shoes, and assorted props, until they found a bin labeled “lighting.”

“OMG, remember this?” Rochelle held up a neon green filter.

“How could I forget?” Liberty replied. “It was for our ‘
Wizard of Oz
–mosis' routine at regionals. I was Dorothy. You were a flying monkey. It was perfect casting.”

Rochelle ignored her comment. “We all looked like aliens in that green glowing spotlight,” she recalled.

“Aliens about to barf up lunch!” Liberty added, peering through the green lens.

“
Blah
.” Rochelle made a gagging noise and they
both cracked up. For a moment, they forgot to hate each other's guts.

Rochelle spotted one last box they had yet to look through. She dug deep into the bottom and pulled out a pink plastic circle. “Got it!” she said. “Found the pink filter.”

Liberty grabbed it out of her hand. “Finally!” She rushed out of the prop closet, leaving Rochelle with a mess to clean up.

“Uh, you're welcome!” Rochelle called after her. Honestly, she didn't know how Toni did it! A dance coach's job was never done—and never appreciated.

Wednesday afternoon rolled around, and friends, family, and fellow dancers packed into the small auditorium at the studio. Rochelle peeked through the stage curtain. “Wow! Full house!” she exclaimed. She was wearing a white, long-sleeved turtleneck leotard, and her hair was twisted into two braided buns over her ears.

“What are you supposed to be?” Liberty smirked. “A monkey wrapped in toilet paper?”

Rochelle reached for a long wand leaning against the wall. With the flick of a switch, it glowed neon blue. “I'm dancing to the theme from Star Wars.” She smiled, waving the lightsaber under Liberty's nose. “And I wouldn't mess with this Jedi warrior if I were you.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Liberty said icily. “You're going to need all the help you can get.”

Rochelle noticed that she was dressed head to toe in pink—which, frankly, was not all that unusual for Liberty. But when she turned around, she saw that there was a long tail suspended from her velvet jumpsuit. Liberty secured a headband with pink velvet ears on top of her head.

“Don't tell me . . .” Rochelle groaned. “You're the Pink Panther.”

“The one and only.” Liberty smiled. “I'm doing a jazz and acro routine that's going to bring this audience to their feet cheering.”

“Or running for the exits,” Rochelle tossed back.

Scarlett stepped between them. She was dressed in a delicate pale pink tutu with a sparkling tiara on her head. “I'm sure Liberty's routine is
purr
fect,” she joked. “And Rochelle, yours is stellar.”

“That's so sweet of you to say, Sugar Plum Fairy,” Rochelle replied. “You look great, Scarlett.”

“You think?” Scarlett spun around in her toe shoes. “I have always dreamed of dancing this role.”

“And I've always dreamed of dancing across a Broadway stage and seeing my name in lights on a marquee,” Bria said. She had on a black tuxedo, top hat, and shiny patent leather tap shoes. She demonstrated a few quick shuffles on the hardwood floor backstage. “I'm doing a salute to Fred Astaire, one of my dance idols.”

Gracie was the only one looking less than thrilled with the chance to show off onstage. “You didn't tell me there were going to be
this
many
people watching!” she whispered to Scarlett. “I don't think I can do this.”

“Do what? Flip some pancakes onstage?” a voice said behind her. “And here I was, thinking you were an Iron Chef.”

Rochelle felt her cheeks flush. It was Hayden, and he looked heavenly. He was dressed in a dark gray suit and sporty fedora. “I'm Gene Kelly in
Singin' in the Rain
. Flooding the studio the other day gave me the idea.”