by Laurence Yep
To Jamie Guan for letting me watch him put his choreography together, to Edward Gorey for his dancing cats, and, of course, to Victoria Tseng
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1: Flowers and Pirates
Chapter 2: The Captain’s Baton
Chapter 3: A Sea Fairy
Chapter 4: Costumes and Capes
Chapter 5: Dancing with a Butterfly
Chapter 6: The Pig-Hat Party
Chapter 7: A Bad Case of Nerves
Chapter 8: A Very Special Guest
Chapter 9: Hugging the Moon
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Letter from American Girl
Real Girls, Real Stories
Preview of Gabriela
Copyright
Now I knew how it felt to be an only child—to be without my big sister, Jade. It felt lousy.
Jade had deserted me, so I was all by myself as I got off the city bus on Saturday morning. It didn’t help my mood any that the bus had been running late. Clutching the strap of my dance bag, I hurried toward our school, Anna Hart School of the Arts.
It had been so great when my idol, Jackie Sanchez, invited me to join a special project of hers—a spring dance tour. I mean, how often does a ten-year-old girl get to work with a world-class ballerina? Jackie was not only a principal dancer at New York City Ballet but had been a guest artist in some of the best ballet companies around the world. And to think, she’d started out at Anna Hart, just like me.
Jackie had convinced our school to put together a show from some of our Autumn Festival acts and to let our tour group use the school for rehearsals every Saturday. We’d perform five weeks from now, during spring vacation. It was an amazing opportunity, so I’d been shocked when Jade turned down Jackie’s invitation. But Jade explained that if she wanted to join a ballet company, she had to perfect her technique. To do that, she’d begun taking private lessons on the weekend. That meant Jade had no time for rehearsals with Jackie—and barely any time to hang out with me anymore.
How am I going to do this without Jade? I wondered. When I was having problems with my dancing for the Autumn Festival, she had saved me with some good advice. She had also helped me while we were rehearsing for The Nutcracker with the HDC—the Hart Dance Company. But then, ever since I was little, Jade had been like a fairy godmother, coming to my rescue whenever I was in trouble.
Well, I thought sadly, maybe you wore her out.
At least my friends and classmates Luisa and Gabriel would be with me. Jackie had liked Luisa’s pirate routine at the Autumn Festival, and when she was looking for a master of ceremonies to entertain the audience between acts, I’d thought right away of Gabriel. Between his sense of humor and his magic tricks, he could entertain any crowd.
Jackie Sanchez had asked Gabriel, Luisa, and me to be in her show, and she’d asked only six others. That thought made me feel so lucky and happy that I spun a couple of times along the sidewalk.
There was Gabriel now, sitting on the front steps of our school. He was wearing a red, white, and blue Washington Nationals jacket in honor of his favorite baseball team. His backpack was by his feet, and his usual deck of playing cards was in his hand. He could make those cards do almost anything.
“Why aren’t you inside?” I asked. “It’s nine o’clock already.”
“I was waiting for you or Luisa,” he said as a half-dozen cards sprayed from his fingers.
Gabriel’s hands were usually so strong and sure. As I helped him pick up the cards, I asked, “Are you nervous?”
He nodded as he tucked the cards back into the deck. “Aren’t you?” he asked.
“A little,” I admitted.
Gabriel slid the cards into his pocket. “Well, we should be,” he said. “I mean, this is Jackie Sanchez. I don’t know whether to be glad or mad that you recommended me to her.”
I had met Jackie before, during rehearsals for The Nutcracker, and she’d given me some good advice about shaking off mistakes during performances. “She’s really nice,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Don’t worry.”
Our footsteps echoed in the hallway as we entered the school. I shuffled a little closer to Gabriel.
“Do you think this building’s really haunted?” I asked. The old part of our school dated back to the nineteenth century, when it had been used as a Civil War hospital.
“Nah, I don’t believe all that. Do you?” Gabriel asked.
“Well, it’s a little spooky when it’s empty like this,” I said and almost jumped when the front door creaked open and then crashed shut again. I was glad to see it wasn’t a ghost—it was Luisa. She was wearing a brown jacket over her red sweater, looking like the first robin of spring.
“Oh, good,” Luisa said when she saw us. “I’m not late.”
“No, you’re late,” Gabriel said with a grin. “But you’ve got good company.”
We started jogging down the hallway into the modern annex of the school. From up ahead, we could hear voices talking, muffled by the walls into a high-pitched buzzing sound, like bees being tickled.
When Gabriel opened the door to the ballet studio, I saw five or six kids sitting on the floor—all of them grinning and shifting restlessly with excitement. I recognized Jacob and Saafi, who had gotten big laughs at the Autumn Festival in their act from The Merry Wives of Windsor. Ryan, a sixth-grade violinist, was chatting with another sixth-grader, Hailey, who had a great singing voice.
Sitting cross-legged in front of them was my classmate Olivia, who had danced with me in “The Waltz of the Flowers.” She smiled and picked up her bag so that we could sit next to her.
But I saw Renata sitting just beyond Olivia, twisting around to show off her bracelet to Saafi. Renata was a classmate who really knew how to get under my skin. So I waved a hand at Olivia to come join us instead. She glanced at Renata and nodded her head in understanding before standing up and grabbing her bag.
We had barely sat down when Jackie Sanchez walked in. The studio fell silent, and everyone sat up a little straighter.
Jackie was a tall, olive-skinned woman who walked with the confidence of someone who is used to being onstage. Her braided hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck, and she wore a lavender top with loose blue warm-up pants.
With her was Ms. Hawken, my ballet teacher, who had taught us the Waltzing Flowers routine. Three other teachers filed into the room behind her: Ms. Steinberg, a drama teacher; Mr. Leonard, a vocal arts teacher; and Ms. Teasdale, a strings teacher.
“Hello,” Jackie called out to us in a pleasant voice. “I want to thank you all for coming this morning and for embarking on this adventure with me.”
I saw heads turning as students smiled at one another. This definitely felt like the beginning of something special.
Jackie spread her hands and said, “There are plenty of people who would have loved to see your Autumn Festival but couldn’t. Maybe they were recovering from illness or injury, or they’re elderly and have trouble getting around. That’s why for three days during spring vacation, we’re going to bring your show to nursing homes and hospitals so that those people can enjoy it too.”
Jackie smiled encouragingly and went on. “Each of you represents the very best of Anna Hart’s talent and generous spirit. But because the Autumn Festival was many months ago, you’ll need to knock the rust off. We’ll have to rehearse like crazy for the next few Saturdays.”
The faces around me suddenly looked nervous, but what Jackie said made sense. We had to get back our timing. Smaller dance casts also meant we’d have to change up the staging and choreography.
“And since we’ll be a touring company, you’re not going to have sets,” J
ackie said. Then she began to tick off other items on her fingers. “No lighting system. And the sound system will be pared down to the bone. We won’t be dancing on our usual wood floors, and the size of our ‘stage’ will change from location to location. We may even be performing in noisy public spaces with lots of distractions. We’ll have to be real troupers who depend on one another.”
Heads swiveled in the studio, and kids began to talk in low, worried voices.
Jackie raised her hand to reassure us. “But I guarantee that every one of you will grow as an artist,” she said. “Because it’ll just be you and the audience—people who really need to see your talent and the joy you feel when you’re performing.” She let those words sink in and then asked, “Any questions?” The room was silent.
When it was time to split up and start rehearsing, Jacob and Saafi left with their drama teacher, Ms. Steinberg. Hailey headed to another classroom with her vocal teacher, Mr. Leonard, while Ryan went with Ms. Teasdale to the music room.
“Waltzing Flowers—Renata and Olivia—please stay here with Ms. Hawken,” Jackie said. “Gabriel, why don’t you watch the flower routine today, too, so you’ll get ideas for how to introduce it during the show.” Then she motioned me and Luisa toward the door. “Isabelle, grab your bag and come along with Luisa and me.”
Did she think I was a pirate like Luisa? “B-but I’m a flower, not a pirate,” I said.
There were a couple of giggles at that. Even I had to admit it sounded funny.
“I talked with Mr. Amici,” Jackie said, “and he said you’d learned the pirate routine in his modern dance class. I thought Luisa could use your company and skills. What do you say?”
I hesitated. I’d enjoyed learning the pirate routine in class, but it would be a lot different performing it before an audience.
Renata twisted around and smirked at me. She was enjoying seeing me squirm.
Don’t let her get to you again, I told myself. Ignore her, just like you did during rehearsals for The Nutcracker. Besides, if Mr. Amici thinks you can do it, then you can.
“Okay. I’ll be a pirate,” I announced, with more confidence than I actually felt. It was all I could do to keep from making a face back at Renata.
“Argh, welcome aboard, matey,” Luisa growled.
Jackie smiled and started for the door. “Great! Let’s get going then, girls,” she called to us.
Renata began waving her arm frantically. “Jackie, aren’t you going to work with the Waltzing Flowers, too?” she asked.
“I am,” Jackie said, “but Ms. Hawken knows your flower routine better than I do. And since Mr. Amici can’t be here, I’ll be covering for him with the pirates. But don’t worry. Ms. Hawken will record your rehearsals for me to watch later, and we’ll put our heads together on your staging.”
Renata opened her mouth to protest, but Ms. Hawken cut her off. “For now, you’ll have to put up with just me, Renata,” Ms. Hawken said pleasantly but firmly. “Let’s get started.”
In a daze, I gathered up my stuff. I’d never expected to be working with Jackie almost one on one, especially on the pirate dance. Would I be able to live up to her standards? Luisa looked just as scared as I felt. She raised her eyebrows at me as we followed Jackie out the door and down the long hall.
“This sure brings back memories,” Jackie said, slowing to a stroll as we entered the old building. She glanced through the open doors of classrooms as we passed. Was she remembering the classes she took when she was a student here, like me?
When Jackie stepped inside the modern dance studio, she walked over to a corner and crouched down to examine one of the mirrored walls. “The crack’s still there,” she said, sounding pleased.
Even though I was feeling shy, I asked, “What crack?”
Jackie tapped a teeny flaw on the mirror. “Mr. Amici and I were improvising together in class, and we got a little carried away,” she said. “He accidentally kicked the wall.”
“You took modern dance from him?” Luisa asked.
“He was one of the best teachers I ever had,” Jackie said, straightening back up. “He was lucky he didn’t break any bones when he hit that mirror.” She chuckled. “But he did limp for a while. And he likes to brag that if he could survive teaching me, he can survive any student.”
Luisa and I grinned at each other. We dumped our things in a corner and began warming up. I couldn’t help sneaking peeks at Jackie, who was stretching alongside us. She was so flexible!
Jackie caught me watching her. “Don’t look so surprised, Isabelle,” she said, smiling. “I practice almost every day.”
“Really?” Luisa said, grunting a little as she leaned forward.
“There’s always some new challenge in ballet for me,” Jackie said. “After all these years, I feel like I’m still learning.”
That left me feeling a little uncomfortable. If an experienced dancer like Jackie felt that way, what hope was there for a student like me?
Jackie lay on her back and stretched her leg overhead. “That’s how you tell a real dancer from someone who’s just posing as one,” she explained. “The real dancer wants to get better each day.”
My dad had once told me almost the same thing. Both of my parents said they still learned something from each new project—my mom with her textile art and my dad with his music. I wished I could focus, too, on just learning something new. But right now, all I could think about was not messing up in front of my idol.
When Jackie thought we were stretched and ready, she took out her phone and sat down in the middle of the floor. “Come sit by me,” she said. “I’d like you both to refresh your memory.”
When Luisa and I had taken seats on either side of Jackie, she laughed. “Come in closer,” she said, patting the floor. “I won’t bite—much.”
Luisa and I giggled nervously as we inched in closer to Jackie, and she held up her phone so that we could see the screen. “Mr. Amici sent me this video of one of your rehearsals,” she said, pushing the play button.
Very faintly, as if performed by elves, the tinny notes of the pirate music began to play. It was only about three minutes long with a half minute for the full cast to dance together at the beginning and the end. The middle two minutes were a contest between the pirates over who was the best dancer. Each pirate had ten seconds to dance a solo.
“All right,” Jackie said as the video ended. “We’ll keep the choreography for the beginning and the ending. But since there are only two of you, your solo dances will be longer—a minute or so. And you’re the last act of the show, so your performances have really got to make the audience feel alive.”
I swallowed hard. It would be tough enough to perfect a new, sixty-second modern dance solo. It was even scarier to think that it had to be good enough to serve as the grand finale. I stole a nervous glance at Luisa, who was chewing her lip.
“Let’s rehearse the first part,” Jackie said as she rose. “Luisa, you know this the best, so you take the lead.”
Having Jackie Sanchez watch us made my nerves feel all jangly. But when she docked her phone and music began to play from the studio speakers, the practice in all those modern dance classes took over. My body performed the first few moves all on its own. Luisa and I launched into what Mr. Amici called the hornpipe, an old sailor dance made up of movements such as “looking out to sea” with our hands raised to our foreheads, and hopping on one leg like a boat bobbing on water.
Luisa completed the routine easily, but my own timing was a little off, and every once in a while I forgot a move and had to watch Luisa.
Still, Jackie was pleased. “Good. Now let’s use more of the stage. Luisa, start in the center, and Isabelle, you’ll be here,” she said, positioning me to the right and behind Luisa. From this new position, I could mimic my friend’s moves more easily.
We danced the routine a few more times, and Jackie adjusted the staging and steps after each. I was starting to think that maybe I could handle this—until Jackie
said it was time to start working on our solos.
“For your solos, I want…” She opened and closed her fingers several times, as if trying to grasp something. “I want your joy to be bursting out of you as you dance,” she finally said.
I waited for her to give us our choreography, but instead she said, “We’ll start with improvs.” She glanced down at her belongings and then unclipped a butterfly charm from the strap of her dance bag. “This’ll do,” she said. “Let’s call it the ‘captain’s baton.’ Whoever holds it can make up a short set of steps. The other person has to imitate those steps and also add something. If I think she does so successfully, I’ll tell her to take the baton.”
“So she becomes the captain and decides on the next set?” Luisa asked.
“Exactly,” said Jackie, putting the butterfly charm in Luisa’s hand. “You can do your favorite moves from any kind of dance—ballet, Irish jig, hip-hop, tap, you name it.” She fiddled with her phone. “I’ve put the pirate-routine music on continuous loop, so just keep dancing.”
As the first notes of the techno-pop song began to play, Luisa glanced at me nervously. I was feeling just as anxious. It was one thing to improvise for a teacher like Mr. Amici, but another thing altogether to do it for Jackie Sanchez. What if we messed up? Would Jackie think she had made a mistake inviting us to be a part of her show?
Spreading her arms, Luisa took several steps, paused, and raised one leg behind her. As she whipped the leg down, she launched into a pirouette. Then, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she swung her clasped hands back and forth as she wriggled her shoulders.
Luisa’s steps were straight out of her pirate routine, and I had no problem imitating them. But I couldn’t figure out what to add at the end, so I just spread my fingers and shook my palms.
“Luisa wins,” Jackie announced. “Isabelle, you’ve got to do more than jazz hands.”
I felt my ears burn. Worse than doing something silly, I’d done something “blah.” Mr. Amici sometimes said that “the biggest mistake a dancer can make is to be dull, dull, dull.” If I kept this up, I’d put Jackie to sleep.