Bust a Move

by Jasmine Beller

  “I appreciate that,” Devane told him. Then she headed to the backstage area—part of the fairgrounds—that had been assigned to the Hip Hop Kidz. She was still the only one from the group there. Perfection. She wanted to have everything ready before anyone arrived. If Gina wanted to see a team player, then Devane was going to be THE team player.

  She reached under the long counter that the dancers would be using to put on their makeup and pulled out the banner that she’d made and a roll of tape. Devane decided to hang the banner over the entrance to the backstage area. That way, everybody would see it—not just her crew. Give the competition a little somethin’ to think about.

  “You must be Devane,” a teenage guy said to her as she climbed up on a ladder and began to hang the banner. She glanced at him. He held a carton of bottled water and a box of PowerBars in his arms.

  “Where’s my lightbulb?” she asked.

  “Yeah, you’re her,” he said. “And I’ll get your lightbulb in a minute. Oh, the ladder—it’s mine, by the way, Princess.”

  “Princess, I like that,” Devane joked as he passed by her.

  “Well, just so you know, Princess, there’s a producer here tonight. He’s checking out the talent. Looking to do some music videos and DVDs with a teen crew. I thought that was something you’d want to know.”

  A producer? Here? Tonight? Devane almost jumped out of her skin, wondering if she even heard right. Looking to do some videos? Imagine what that could do for my three-year plan. Slash it right in half. But she put her excitement in check. Didn’t want to show her excitement. Because that kind of behavior was totally A.M.A.T.E.U.R.

  “Absolutely. I’ll make sure to follow up on that,” Devane told him.

  She was feeling fine. Tonight was her night. She knew it. She was getting off probation tonight. She had to—after everything she was going to do for Gina and the team. She wasn’t going to sulk around backstage the way she had at the Disney World show. She was going to work her tail off.

  “Hip Hop Kidz Got the Juice,” Devane heard Gina read aloud. “Great sign.”

  Devane hopped off the ladder. “Thanks. No one’s here yet. But I heard there’s a guy who’s interested in making videos—maybe with the Hip Hop Kidz. I’ll keep my ears open.”

  “Maddy told me something about that. The guy—I can’t remember his name right now, too much on my brain—is going to get in touch with her if he likes what he sees,” Gina said.

  “That’s the best.” Devane tried not to think about the fact that the producer wouldn’t be making the call based on seeing any of her moves. Tonight wasn’t about that. It was about getting off probation. “Hey, here come the twins.” They both applauded when they saw the sign. “I’m going to go check out the competition. I’ll report back,” she told Gina.

  “O-kay,” Gina said.

  Devane slowly made a big circle of the backstage area as it gradually filled up. She eavesdropped, trying to get the rundown on what moves were going to be in the competition’s routines. She watched warm-ups and run-throughs wherever she found them. Then she returned to the Hip Hop Kidz.

  “I don’t think we have too much to worry about,” she told Gina. “The Storm Lords and the Plain Janes bring some heat. Nothing that ill papi and M.J. can’t outdo.” Devane wanted to add that she had the best of the best beat, too. But she wasn’t in the competition. Dancing wasn’t her job tonight.

  “Do any of y’all need anything?” she called. Her whole crew was there now. Eatin’ their bars. Havin’ their water. “Want help with your makeup?” she offered.

  Wait. Devane looked around and realized someone was missing. Ill papi. “Has anyone seen ill papi?”

  “He’s not here?” Gina asked, scanning the area.

  “I haven’t seen him,” Sammi said.

  “Me either,” M.J. added.

  Devane checked the clock. The competition was supposed to start in fifteen. Ill papi had to make it here. They needed him. What she’d seen on her stroll had convinced her of that.

  I was going to take care of everything tonight, Devane thought. But I’m not sure what I can do to fix this.

  CHAPTER 6

  “The competition is actually starting, and ill papi still isn’t here.” Sophie felt like her skin was a size too small—just itchy and uncomfortable and wrong. “Something’s up. Something bad.”

  “You don’t know that,” Emerson said. “He could be late for lots of reasons. Things just happen, Soph. Everyday things.”

  Sophie shook her head. “This isn’t a missed-bus kind of deal. It’s something else. I know it.”

  “Maybe we could ask his dad,” Emerson suggested. “Maybe ill papi even came with him.”

  “If he came with J-Bang, he’d be here. J-Bang already introduced the first group,” she shot back. Her voice came out a lot louder than she meant it to. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get snappy. I’m just worried.”

  “I know,” Emerson said. “I get it. Ill papi’s always on time for class and everything.”

  “How screwed are we if he doesn’t get his butt down here?” Chloe asked as she and M.J. joined the pair.

  “I don’t even care about that,” Sophie said.

  “What?” M.J. demanded. “We don’t make the cut tonight and we have no shot at the championship. How can you say you don’t care?”

  “Okay. You’re right. I care.” Sophie scrubbed her face with her fingers. “I just meant—don’t you guys think ill papi has been acting weird the last few weeks? Don’t you think something could be up with him? Something maybe he needs us to help him out with.”

  “What are you talking about? Weird how?” M.J. asked.

  Sophie knew it would sound stupid if she tried it put it into words. She couldn’t say that ill papi hadn’t been laughing at her jokes or talking to her that much. And that maybe it was just because he’d figured out she liked him.

  No, she definitely couldn’t go blabbing that to her friends. Not even to Emerson.

  “Weird how?” M.J. repeated.

  “I don’t know. Just a vibe,” Sophie muttered.

  “Has anyone even tried to call him?” Emerson asked.

  “I heard Devane say she was going to call him for Gina,” Chloe said.

  M.J. looked around the backstage area. “Devane!” he called, spotting her.

  She hurried over. “What’s up? I told Billy we needed at least twenty-five waters, and he didn’t send enough. Are we out?”

  “We just wanted to know if you talked to ill papi,” Emerson told her.

  “I just got the machine,” Devane told them all. “I left all the competition info in case he got confused about the date or something.”

  “No way,” M.J. burst out. “After all the extra rehearsals?”

  “Anyone hear anything about ill papi?” Fridge asked as he headed toward them.

  “No,” everyone in the group said at once.

  “What are we going to do about the showstopper?” Fridge tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “We need that jackhammer to one-arm planche. No one else can do it. And me and M.J. doing the crickets on either side of nothing isn’t going to be that impressive. We’re gonna get burned.”

  Sophie knew she should be thinking about how they could still win without ill papi. But all she could think about was . . . ill papi. There was no way he’d have bailed on them tonight unless something big had come up. And if it was a good big, he probably still would have shown. Because good bigs didn’t stop your life the way bad bigs did.

  “At least we’re not up until after intermission,” Rachel said.

  “But if he’s not here, then what?” M.J. asked. “Fridge is right. Ill papi’s front and center in a lot of our routine. We’re going to look damaged without him.”

  “The judges are definitely going to notice something’s off,” Chloe agreed. “Do you think we could get eliminated tonight?”

  “We could get eliminated tonight. We might not even get a shot at the cha
mpionship,” Ky said softly. He and Sammi stood side by side in the wings, watching the Storm Lords do their first routine. “I can’t believe I’m sayin’ that.”

  “You guys are great,” Sammi told him. “You’re great. And when you guys are up, I’m going to try to get a seat right behind the judges and clap as loud as I possibly can, just in case they aren’t seeing how great you are.” She gave him a light punch. “I can’t believe you’ve got me trying to build up your ego. It’s already out of control.”

  “Look at those guys,” Ky said, skipping one of his usual mock-conceited answers. “Three of them doing a jackhammer at once.” He shook his head. “I’ve got the cricket down, but I haven’t been able to take it to the next level, not all the way. Ill papi’s the only one in our crew that’s got one. We need the illin’ man tonight to keep up with this crew.”

  “Where do you think he is?” Sammi asked.

  “If you don’t know, why should I? You’re his keeper, right?” Ky asked, an edge to his voice. Then he shrugged. “I got no idea. It’s not like papi to disappear.”

  Sammi didn’t like the sound of that. Had something happened to ill papi? She’d just been thinking he was late. Was something more going on? Something worse?

  “Maybe Gina’s heard from him by now,” Sammi suggested as the Storm Lords slammed to a finish and the crowd went crazy. “Maybe he’s even shown up.”

  “He best have,” Ky said. “Like I said, we need him tonight.”

  Sammi reached out and gave Ky a fast, hard hug. “With him or without him, you guys are going to fire up the place.”

  Ky grinned, his eyes most definitely firing up the place. “If you say so.”

  “Allan, cough drops—with honey, no lemon.” Devane tossed him the box.

  “Thanks.”

  “What I’m here for,” Devane said. She swept her eyes over the room, looking for anyone else who looked like they needed anything. Gina definitely seemed to be stressing. Devane hurried over.

  “There’s nothing for you to do right now,” Devane told her teacher. “I’ve got everything under control. How about if I give you a neck massage? I do it for my mom sometimes when she has one of her double-job days. She says I’m the best.”

  Gina smiled. “I’m sure you are. But a massage won’t get ill papi over here, and, honestly, that’s what I really need.”

  “I’ll leave him another message.” Devane pulled the cell Emerson had loaned her out of her pocket.

  “That’s okay,” Gina said. “One message is the same as twenty, right? You either get it or you don’t. I just hope nothing serious has happened to him.”

  So no more messages. What else could Devane do to get ill papi to the regionals? Because truth, the crew needed him. Especially without her.

  Okay, what did she know about ills? From the contact sheet, she knew he lived in Liberty Heights. Too far for her to go over and get him—if he was home and not answering the phone or if the phone wasn’t working.

  But her mom’s friend Tisha lived over there. So Tisha could go over to ill papi’s and see what the sitch was and report back to Devane. And if ill papi was home, Tisha could drive him over here. Devane dialed as she pulled the contact sheet she’d used to call ill papi out of her pocket.

  “Tamal, I need Tisha’s phone number,” she said. “And let’s just skip over all the negotiating. Get me the number without saying anything else and you get enough snickerdoodles to make you sick for a week.”

  In less than thirty seconds, Devane had the number. She punched it into the phone. The thinnest cell she’d ever seen.

  “Huddle up, everybody,” Gina called. “It’s intermission. We need to talk.”

  Devane moved away from the group and put one finger in her ear. She wished she could just deal with Tisha the way she had with Tamal. But Tisha would want manners and explanations and all.

  “Hey, Tisha,” she said when her mother’s friend answered. “It’s Devane Edwards. How are you?”

  Tisha wasn’t one of those people who just said “fine.” She was one of those people who told you exactly how she was—starting with her bunions and moving on up to the roots of her hair, which she needed to have dyed.

  Devane clucked and went “I hear you” until Tisha wrapped it up. “And how are you doing? How’s your mom?”

  Tisha saw Devane’s mother almost every day at the Shop Rite where they worked. So Devane answered the first question. “I’m not so great right this second, Tisha. I thought maybe you could help me.”

  “What’s wrong?” Tisha sounded alarmed.

  “No, wait. I’m not hurt or anything,” Devane said quickly. How could she have forgotten how fast Tisha could lose it? “I’m fine. Tamal’s fine. Mama’s fine. I’m just down at a competition for my hip-hop dance group. One of our dancers didn’t show, and we really need him if we’re going to win tonight.”

  “You scared me half to death for that?” Tisha scolded.

  “I’m sorry. Truly,” Devane apologized. “The thing is, he lives in your neighborhood. I was wondering if you could possibly run over to his house. I’ve been trying to get in touch with him—but maybe his phone is out or something.”

  “Devane, I’ve been working all day. I don’t have time to be your messenger girl. Does your mother know you’re calling to ask me this?” Tisha demanded.

  “No. She’s not home right now. I just thought maybe—”

  “If you needed me for something important, I’d be there in a minute; you know that,” Tisha said. “But not for this. I’m hanging up now. Dancing with the Stars is about to come on.”

  Devane checked her watch. There was hardly any time left to get ill papi here from Liberty Heights—if that’s even where he was. She had to think fast. Didn’t Tamal have a friend who lived there? And didn’t the friend have a brother with a car? Devane wasn’t Devane if she couldn’t talk that boy with his car into doing her a little favor. She punched in her home phone number again.

  “Tamal, who is that friend of yours who—”

  “Devane!” Gina called. Devane took the finger out of her ear and held it up, giving Gina the one-second signal. “I need the number of that friend of yours who lives in—”

  “Devane, I need you off that phone immediately!”

  “I’ll call you back.” Devane hung up the phone and hurried over to the group around Gina.

  She’d done it again. She’d spent hours racking up good-girl points. Then she’d thrown a bunch of them away by doing something that irritated Gina. If Devane kept messing up like this, she’d never make it off probation.

  “Sorry, I was trying to find a way to track down ill papi,” Devane said quickly.

  “I think we’re going to have to give up on that as a possibility. We’re up in just about half an hour.” Gina raked her curly hair away from her face with both hands.

  “So what are we going to do?” Ky asked. “How are we going to—”

  Gina held up both hands, palms out, like a traffic cop. “I’m talking. Here’s the plan.” She looked over at Devane. “You’ve been rehearsing the routine. Do you think you could fill—”

  Devane didn’t let Gina finish. “I’m there.”

  Gina nodded. “Let’s use the time we have to walk through the routine with Devane in ill papi’s spot. We’ll have to make some changes. I was thinking we could substitute your cross-legged flare, hollow-back freeze for that last combo ill papi does,” she told Devane.

  “Got it,” Devane said.

  She so got it. It had finally happened. She was off probation! Her plan was rolling again!

  Emerson watched as Devane raised her hands over her head—then launched herself across the stage with a series of forward handsprings. Maybe we’re going to pull this off without ill papi, Emerson thought. Then it was her turn to make her entrance. Three cartwheels and she was out there under all those lights. The stage was bigger than the one at Disney World. More people out there watching, too. Maddy was in the audience someplace.
And a bunch of kids who took lessons at Hip Hop Kidz. Plus tons of friends and parents and relatives.

  And kick it side, turn it.

  Emerson couldn’t help thinking her parents and grandparents should be out there. If she hadn’t lied and everything. If she hadn’t had to lie. If her parents had given her permission to be in the group.

  Although who knew how they’d react if they could see this routine. Her grandpa might decide not to give her that hundred dollars for her good French—this show wasn’t a grandpa kind of thing.

  Snap down, flat back. Group one up. Group two up.

  Uh-oh. Group two was a tiny bit off center. Devane took shorter steps than ill papi, and it threw the whole line to the left a little.

  Focus on what you’re doing, Emerson. Your group up.

  Whether her parents or grandparents would like it or not, the routine was an Emerson kind of thing. That rush was happening. The one she always got doing hip-hop onstage with the group. It was like Devane’s sign had said—“Hip Hop Kidz Got the Juice.” Emerson felt juiced. Like she’d been drinking sunshine and electricity.

  Legs wide. Left knee in. Right arm—

  Uh-oh. Devane had been late dropping into the flare air-track combo she and M.J. did together. Had the judges noticed?

  Hopefully not. The crowd was definitely giving it up for the move. It had looked awesome. But Devane and M.J. had been just the tiniest bit out of sync.

  Was a mistake that small enough to lose them the competition?

  Knee slide. Flip to side. Head on elbow. Watch the final combo.

  Devane’s cross-legged flare into the hollow back was a beautiful thing, especially flanked by M.J. and Fridge doing their crickets. Devane held the pose while the audience—and the judges—applauded and applauded. Held it and made it look effortless.

  But Emerson had seen ill papi’s jackhammer to one-armed planche. And it was better.

  She walked off the stage feeling like the Hip Hop Kidz hadn’t given their absolute best.