The Competition

by Maddie Ziegler

  I knew Lily was a huge fan of art. My sister, Hailey, had gone through a celebrity chef phase, and I’d been forced to watch every reality competition and browse through every recipe in search for what her idol chef called the “sweet-savory-silly triple threat”—a delicious meal with a playful twist.

  In the process, Hailey picked up a million and one ways to make cool food designs, and I figured what better way to turn Lily’s frown upside down by combining her two favorite things: food and art! For this one, I was making a leaping dancer. I’d hardly thought I could get away with undertaking anything so fancy-sounding months ago. But Hailey’s boot camp had made a liar out of me.

  I made the slices of apple and pear look like a little human stick figure. With the strips of apple skin peel, I personalized it to make it look like she was flying as she leapt into the air. I’d saved my chocolate chip cookie from dessert as well. I broke it to get to an intact chocolate chip. That would make a good hair accessory. With all the crumbs left, I sprinkled some along the apple and pear slices I’d arranged on the plate in pretty patterns.

  Just as I was wiping the corners of the plate clean, like I’d watched chefs on TV do plenty of times, Lily started stirring. As I quickly wrapped a plastic knife in a napkin, the room brightened up. Lily had drawn the curtains to let the morning sun in.

  My jazz hands were more like jazz hand, but I did it with extra flair. “Good morning!” I said in the most singsong and cheery voice as possible. Startled, Lily whipped around, but when her eyes fell on the plate, she smiled from ear to ear.

  “Oh my gosh, is that supposed to be me?” she squealed as best as she could with a croaky morning voice.

  “Who else has leg extensions like that?” I grinned.

  “Aw, that’s so sweet of you… literally.” She accepted the plate and checked out my food art. “I love it!”

  “I’m so glad you do!” I couldn’t stop smiling. “Go ahead, take a bite.”

  “It’s too cute to eat!”

  Lily was beaming like the rays of sun filtering in our room. Granted, our window was facing a side street—and whenever you’re talking New York, that was like being in a canyon. But it was way brighter than with the curtains drawn.

  If this small gesture left Lily less mopey than at dinner last night, than I’d consider that a victory.

  “Oooh, wait!” Lily put the plate down on one corner of a crowded desk. “Let me take a pic of it.”

  I cracked up at all the snaps she took from what seemed like every angle.

  “I think that’s enough.” I laughed.

  “I want to copy this when I get back home. My parents should totally go with this type of presentation at the fro-yo shop.”

  “Oh, yeah. Maybe for birthday parties?” I pointed to her.

  “Right? Or for the younger dancers after recitals.” She pointed back.

  “That’s brilliant!” I lobbed a throw pillow at her in my version of the happy slap.

  “I know!” She hurled the pillow right back at me.

  I backed up to the bed as nonchalantly as possible as I spoke. “And we can get Hailey to help come out with more artsy ideas because she knows a… TON!” I tossed a large pillow with extra oomph.

  I barely had time to crack up at how spot-on my launch was, when that same pillow muffled my laugh as it boomeranged back to my nose. And with that, the pillow wars were declared. The arm strength and lung capacity it took to fling pillows, stuffed animals, and towels at each other while laughing was epic. At the end of it all, we lay on a cushiony heap, out of breath and holding our splitting sides.

  “I’m finally hungry enough to eat food art without guilt,” she said. We cracked up again.

  A few more foodie photos and lots of happy bites later, Lily and I took rush showers. We were dressed, packed, and picking up the pillow and towel mess when there was a knock on our door.

  “Let’s go, girls,” said Riley’s mom’s muffled voice. “Time to head out.”

  * * *

  Our commute wasn’t far at all. All we had to do was take the elevator down from the lobby restaurant where we had breakfast. But thankfully, we were all very far from the mood most of us were in the night before. We couldn’t loosen up.

  Megan’s and Riley’s moms made casual small talk with ease. But Vanessa was the only one who seemed deep in thought and a little bit distracted.

  “Girls, a moment, please,” Vanessa said as we waited in the elevator lobby after breakfast. We paused from our playful banter and turned our attention to her. Vanessa’s words were even-toned. She kept her hands rigid and fingers together, and it seemed like she was using them to wall in her words. “We need to be sharper than ever today. Not just onstage, but when we’re watching other performers, when we’re backstage, when we’re anywhere in between. Okay? Your professionalism is of utmost importance, because it helps show organizers keep everything flowing properly.”

  We nodded and stole glances at one another, the seriousness of competing on this level hitting us on an even deeper level than before. The group and solo competitions would be streaming online, and today was set up so that the organizers could run those programs. The best part about today was that each team would get their turn to feel out the stage.

  “That said”—Vanessa drew out a sneaky smile, her hands back to their relaxed state—“have fun out there and remind everyone why they first started dancing in the first place!”

  We whooped and cheered our way onto the waiting elevator. When the sliding doors opened up to the lower level, the thumping sound of dance music wafted from the grand ballroom up the wide, carpeted hall to greet us.

  We headed toward the music, aiming for the rectangular registration table, where three people were seated, each one addressing a line of people waiting to consult with them.

  One look at the grandeur of it all, the top-tier dancers milling around, and Megan’s mom was overcome. I mean, she totally got all starry-eyed emoji on us. “Here we are, at the world-class arena I’ve always dreamed of performing in.”

  “Really, Mom? I never knew this was a dream of yours,” said Megan, surprised.

  Yup. That makes perfect sense, I thought to myself.

  Megan’s mom snaps out of her starry daydream. “Don’t be silly,” she said, exasperated. “I was talking about you. You’ve always imagined this.”

  “Um, no, we all heard you say—”

  “Trina, darling, come and take a look at this,” said Riley’s mom, trying to smooth over the awkwardness, leading her to a display lining one side of the wall.

  “Oooh!” said Trina, wide-eyed. “This is… wow.”

  But this wasn’t just about distracting Trina—the display was legit amazing. We all walked over, totally drawn by the neatly arranged display of autographed portraits.

  It was a pop-up museum collection about dance legends. And not just about dance legends, but the ones who’d performed here at this very competition!

  “I’ll go sign us in and pick up our passes,” said Vanessa before making her way to the line that had formed in front of the registration table’s A–F sign.

  We were so grateful for the extra time to study the wall of fame.

  “Look!” Riley pointed to one vintage image of a dance troupe from the 1950s. “Is that the same Bailar Studio in Florida that we know?”

  Our huddle around the white card got tighter as we read the fine-print description of the image.

  “That’s bananas,” said Megan.

  “That’s amazing,” Lily said breathlessly, clearly touched by what she was seeing.

  “Whoa” was all I could add. Coming face-to-face with the sense of how many greats had performed on this stage kind of had us all at a loss for words. But in a good way.

  Suddenly, I felt like being dancers could change the world.

  Vanessa had to wave her hands in front of our faces to help us realize she was ready to take us to the performance hall. There, we took our seats among the dancers already
camped out in the row of cushioned seats. And we sat there watching producers call teams by name backstage and then eventually onto the stage, where they, without revealing their performance moves, loosely ran through aspects of their performance. Things like how far apart to stand and how far forward and far back everyone could go were worked out.

  After close to two hours, we were finally called backstage and shown our shared dressing area. It was huge compared to what we were used to.

  “This is nice,” said Vanessa, nodding her head.

  Riley snapped a pic every time Vanessa and the producer’s backs were turned. I could tell the act professional speech Vanessa had given was on her mind.

  Next, the producer walked briskly to the stage, and we had to trot to keep up. As instructed, we remained offstage until we were given the signal.

  “Go!”

  And just like that, it was our turn to be onstage, examining the floors, the audience view, the feel of it. We could see the waiting dance teams chatting to each other in the audience. A few took interest in us, maybe because they recognized the name of our dance studio, or they were hoping for a glimpse of our routine. After our time was up, we were led back to the audience, where we would wait another two hours for our solo dance runs.

  But throughout it all, the boost we got from the pop-up museum stayed super high. More than ever, I was ready to compete and show everyone what I was made of!

  CHAPTER 11

  Who knew Vanessa was so sneaky and secretive? After dropping off our bags, freshening up and having lunch together, Vanessa announced she had a surprise for us. She didn’t even drop us a hint. All she did was lead us out of the hotel. Even though Vanessa wasn’t saying a word, that didn’t stop us from getting into a guessing game.

  “I hope it’s a Trey Thompson meet and greet!” wished Riley, squealing like the screech of a subway train brakes we could hear through the sidewalk grates underneath our feet.

  “Barneys?” Megan asked hopefully.

  “You want a meet and greet with the purple dinosaur?” Trina asked earnestly.

  “If I have to explain that, you’re not ready to learn what it is.” Megan rolled her eyes.

  “It’s some high-end department store,” I explained to Trina. “My mom said she walked in one day and nearly passed out after peeking at the price tags.”

  Lily sounded confident with her guess. “Madame Tussauds wax museum. I read that it’s every tourist’s must-see spot, plus it’s supposed to be pretty close to our hotel.”

  We looked to Vanessa, who was texting someone as we waited for the light to change.

  “You’ll have to wait and see,” she said, giving secret smiles to the moms, who apparently were in on the big plan.

  We up a side street for what seems like ages, but we finally come to the biggest intersection, right ahead of us.

  The flashing lights, the ginormous faces on the billboards, the HD jumbotrons.

  “TIMES SQUARE!” a couple of Squad members called out in disbelief.

  Riley immediately started taking photos of the sights, of our amazement. Then she gave her phone to Megan’s mom and jumped into a group shot with us.

  “The Squad in Times Square!” Riley shouted as Megan’s mom snapped away.

  This was where everything happened. I’d never come here enough with my family. They were big on avoiding the congestion on this area’s streets and sidewalks.

  “Every time I come here, I always feel like I’m in the center of the universe,” said Trina.

  “I know! It’s like everybody in the entire world is here,” I said.

  “Thank you, Vanessa,” said Lily. “I can’t believe I’m actually here, in the place I’ve seen in movies a zillion times before.”

  “This is such a cool surprise!” shouted Megan, who was showing the most enthusiasm for New York since she got here.

  “You’re welcome, but this isn’t the surprise.” Vanessa winked. Still, we dived into the frenzied energy of the broad strip, where two main avenues intersect and explode into a loud, bright, flashing epicenter.

  We stood on the bleachers, which were in front of the famous TKTS booth (where you could buy discount Broadway tickets). Tons of people were standing or sitting there, but we found an empty spot and snapped away, taking in the view. Even the moms got in on the fun. After we were done, we joined the herd of humans migrating across the wide street when we got the green light.

  We found ourselves on a quieter side street. “Here we are!” said Vanessa, holding open a nondescript white door leading to a flight of stairs.

  We’d given up asking for clues by then. And besides, we were still buzzing from our cool Times Square photo shoot. Even Megan seemed a little giddy.

  That’s when we saw the sign at the top of the stairs: THE ALEXIS ALMA STUDIOS.

  “No way!” I shouted.

  Alexis Alma was only this super-awesome choreographer and dancer who took hip-hop dance to top stages around the world. She was a legend who got her start dancing in the most popular music videos back when our parents were our age.

  “Yes way!” Vanessa smiled from ear to ear. “Courtesy of the organizers of our competition, we get to not only visit, but take a class with their star instructors!”

  “OMG!” We all shrieked.

  “Okay, okay.” Vanessa was smiling, even as she tried to settle us down. “Let’s go in there calm and composed.”

  “Yeah, hurry, because more people are coming in behind us and we want to get the best spots!” said Megan’s mom.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were front row center in a big dance studio. A bunch of the other teams were there, too. They seemed just as nervous and excited as we were.

  Wow. There were about one hundred of us in there. Plus, there was plenty of space for all the chaperones to sit and chill in the back of the room. I’d only ever seen these warehouse-size studios on those super-polished YouTube videos showcasing the latest dance crazes. I wonder if they used this studio in the videos.

  I had to ask Lily, who loved those videos as much as I did. She was standing next to me but looked lost in thought.

  I leaned an inch over to my left. “Psst! The dance videos we love watching. I bet they’re filmed here!”

  Lily broke out of her thoughts and grinned. We grabbed each other’s hands and did one last mini squeal, until one after another, a man and a woman’s voices echoed out.

  “Hello, everyone!” said the man.

  “Waddup, people!” the woman bellowed.

  “Welcome, welcome!”

  They were both now standing in front of us, dressed in white tees, joggers, and sneakers. The mirror behind them reflected all our faces. They introduced themselves as Jackie and Miguel.

  “Please take a seat for now while we talk your ear off,” Jackie joked.

  We all laughed.

  “We heard you all have a major event coming up, and we applaud you for making it this far,” shouted Jackie, beaming and throwing her hands in the air.

  Everyone erupted into a mini celebration, cheering for ourselves and one another. It felt great to shout extra loud with my dance crew. The Squad and I all high-fived one another .

  “Now, we know a thing or two about competition,” said Miguel, “and it can be pretty nerve-wracking. We hope to offer you a fun break from your competition worries—and give you a taste of New York City dance lessons.”

  Lily, Riley, Trina, and I stole glances at each other, smiling.

  “Okay, guys, let’s go! Warm-up time!” Jackie called out.

  We all go to the center of the room, where we go through a series of mini cardio—including lots of sit-ups and push-ups to get the blood pumping.

  After we were done, Miguel jumped up and down as if revving up his energy even more. He gestured for us to get up and do the same. “So, let’s pop, rock, and lock when that hip-hop beat drops.”

  The music started, and we all got moving in all different types of styles. And then both instructors did th
eir jumping thing again. When the entire studio was jumping too, they started showing us a hip-hop routine that we all followed.

  They broke down each move to its simplest form, so we were able to catch on quicker than I’d thought. It was great.

  For the next half hour, we lost ourselves in the rhythm and rhymes of hip-hop, using our arms, legs, shoulders, and even our hands. Even the chaperones were out of their seats, jamming with all their hearts.

  We almost complained out loud when Jackie turned down the music.

  “All right, now we usually like to bring up a few dancers to show what they’ve learned,” said Miguel. Too many hands shot up, which got everyone laughing.

  “How about we bring up the winners of our New York pop quiz?” said Jackie. “And no Googling, people.”

  Everyone laughed again, but this time it was way more authentic. We were already fans of Jackie and Miguel.

  “Name all five—”

  My arm went up like I was trying to touch the ceiling. I’d lived in this area long enough what people were talking about when they said the number five.

  “Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, and Staten Island.” I shouted, cracking up.

  “I didn’t even finish! The five boroughs—and she is correct!” Everyone laughed at Miguel’s faux-shocked face.

  The Squad cheered for me, patting me on the back. Jackie gestured for me to join them up front.

  “Wow. Okay, looks like we’ve got a local here,” she said. “Where are you from?”

  “Connecticut!” I said it without thinking. It wasn’t until I saw the Squad all look at one another like they missed something had I realized that it sounded like I wasn’t planning to rep for Florida or DanceStarz. But my Squad knew I loved them, so I figured no harm done.

  Jackie and Miguel were running away with the whole Connecticut shout-out.

  Miguel pointed at the Squad in the front row. “Are you all from Connecticut too?”

  “Florida!” Megan spat out with an attitude, as they all shook their heads no.

  “Hmm… That brings us to the second question,” said Miguel. “When New Yorkers talk about the tristate area, what states are included?” Miguel immediately pointed to the right side of the room, where most hands went up.