Step Up and Dance

by Thalia Kalipsakis

  Thank you so much for your letter. All the Magic Charms were thrilled to read it! We are so glad that you like watching us. If you work hard and keep practising, I’m sure you will be a cheerleader one day.

  It’s an amazing feeling, dancing in the bright lights with so many people watching. We try to make it look easy. But it’s really hard work. We have to be very careful not to make any mistakes.

  I stopped typing and read over my letter. Could I say that to a little girl? About the hard work and the pressure. Should I tell her what it was really like? Dancing’s not as glamorous as it seems . . .

  The curser blinked at me from the screen.

  Quickly I selected the last sentence and hit delete. Telling Celeste that stuff would be like telling her Santa wasn’t real. I signed off as if life as a dancer was a breeze. Sweet dreams, Celeste.

  Then I pushed back my desk chair and lay along the length of my soft wool rug as images flashed through my mind: Dad’s eyebrows in a frown, Lesley demonstrating an arm move, a goofy smile from Jay.

  It was such a relief to close my eyes. Right now I just wanted to be eight years old again, when dancing was still a perfect dream.

  CHAPTER 9

  On Saturday morning, before the Magic quarterfinal, I had a long bonding session with my German dictionary. It was yellow, with a soft waterproof cover and smelt like plastic. Aahh . . .

  Somehow I had managed to finish the English version of my essay. In Mr Kissinger’s words, it was ‘not my best work’. But then again, it was a miracle that I’d managed to get this far.

  Because I was so behind, Mr K had told me to start the translation on my own. Jeez, thanks, Sir . . .

  I’d just worked out a way (pretty close to good enough) to translate ‘making their eyes pop out’, when my mobile beeped. It was Summer. My saviour! The smell of the dictionary was starting to make me dizzy.

  ‘So, have you changed your mind yet?’ Summer started in at me before I’d even said hello.

  ‘No, Sum, it’ll all be fine,’ I said.

  Amazingly, in the past few days, my dad had spoken to Jay’s mum not once, not twice, but three times. And, unbelievably, mysteriously, inexplicably (maybe I should look those words up in the German dictionary), I had permission to catch a lift to and from the quarterfinal with Jay and his family. It was my first step to grown-up freedom!

  ‘It’s not too late, you know. You can still pull out.’ Summer didn’t have a paranoid father to deal with, she couldn’t be expected to understand how important it was.

  ‘Look, nothing’s going to happen, okay?’ I felt like a parent soothing a worried child. ‘Jay’s way more interested in Magic than he is in playing tricks on me. Trust me, he’s just a jock who’s obsessed with basketball.’

  Silence on the other end of the phone.

  ‘Summer?’

  ‘Well, don’t come crying to me when you find your hair dyed green, or the buttons fall off your costume, or something.’

  ‘Our costumes don’t have buttons.’

  ‘Whatever …’ More silence.

  ‘Summer, don’t be like this.’ I knew she was mostly teasing, but she’d been strange ever since I’d told her I had Jay’s phone number. It was almost like she wanted me and Jay to be fighting. ‘What are you doing tonight?’ I asked, trying to change the subject.

  There was a pause, then Summer breathed a long sigh down the phone. ‘Well, my best friend’s busy jumping off a cliff, so I suppose I’ll just stay home and watch TV.’

  ‘Summer …’ Then I thought of something. ‘Hey, can you keep an eye on the Magic game? It’s being televised and the troupe might get more air-time.’ I paused, not sure if this was too much to ask. ‘The players all have great bodies …’

  ‘Ah! Well, if you put it that way.’ Summer’s voice was bubbly again.

  That’s my girl. ‘And we’ll do something tomorrow, okay?’

  ‘All right, you owe me a coffee,’ said Summer, before she hung up.

  Right, Summer was all set. My ride to the game was all set. Time to keep smooching my dictionary.

  ‘So who’s your favourite Magic player?’

  I was sitting next to a giant ten year old in the back seat of a four-wheel drive. Jay’s sister was taller than me. She was also lanky and scrawny like him, plus I could tell that she could catch a ball, without being hit where it hurts.

  I tried to smile and look strong at the same time. ‘Um, let’s see . . . it used to be Damien Rowsthorn.’ I heard a snort from Jay on the other side of his sister.

  ‘Yeah, he’s my favourite too!’ Emily happily spun a basketball in her lap.

  ‘An immature choice for a favourite,’ came Jay’s voice.

  I picked up another basketball from near my feet. ‘But now I think Grant Cunningham’s pretty cool.’

  ‘Hey! He’s Jay’s favourite!’ Emily threw the ball at her brother, who caught it easily and started spinning it on one finger.

  Impressive . . .

  I tried to spin my basketball in two hands like Emily had, but it flipped against the car door, then fell back onto the floor. Right . . . let’s just leave it there then.

  ‘So, Saph, do the cheerleaders practise often?’ asked Jay’s mum, swivelling so she could glance at me from the front seat. She was tall with lovely honey skin like Jay.

  ‘Just Monday nights.’ I wriggled a bit in my seat. ‘But we have to do four hours of other dance classes too.’

  ‘Really? Amazing,’ said Jay’s mum vaguely. ‘And do you spend much time with the players?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘They’re . . . ah . . . pretty busy.’

  She nodded at me, disappointed, then turned to Jay’s dad in the driver’s seat. ‘You know, I’m worried about Tyson Andrews’ knee.’

  Two huge shoulders shrugged in front of me. ‘The team needs him, Vic. It’s a risk we have to take.’

  Jay was leaning forward, peering past Emily to me. ‘Do you want to hear my new whistle?’

  ‘A new one?’

  ‘Listen.’ He put two fingers on his lips and blew.

  Whooo wip. Whooo wip.

  Even over the drone of the four-wheel drive, Jay’s whistle was clear and strong.

  ‘Good one! That’s even louder.’

  He smiled at me and kept practising.

  I pulled the seatbelt away from my neck and watched a boom gate drop in the next street. The car smelt like orange peel and rubber.

  ‘Magic!’ cried Emily suddenly and clapped her hands three times. ‘Ma-gic!’

  I laughed, then joined in, winking at Emily as I started. ‘Ma-gic!’ Clap clap clap. ‘Ma-gic!’ Clap clap clap. Jay kept whistling in time with our chant. Whooo wip! Clap clap clap. Whooo wip! Clap clap clap.

  Louder and louder we grew, until I was almost expecting a tick-off from the driver’s seat: Quiet back there! I’m trying to concentrate. But Jay’s mum just smiled proudly at us and nodded at Jay’s dad.

  By the end of the drive, my ears were buzzing and my cheeks were sore from smiling. Maybe tonight, our team would win the quarterfinal.

  Inside the changeroom, the air was tense. Gino and Andrew were here too, which wasn’t a good sign. They usually stayed in their own changeroom until warm-up time.

  I could hear the hairdryer going at the mirrors, and a stream of swear words coming from Abe on her mobile. ‘Well, what about a taxi?’ she screeched, face tight and frowning.

  ‘What’s wrong with Abe?’ I asked Megan on the way past. Already I was feeling a surge of sass about the new costume and the fresh opener. A huge quarterfinal.

  ‘FORTY MINUTES!’ yelled Abe into the phone.

  Megan glanced up at the clock, looked slightly sick, and then crossed her arms. ‘Lesley’s car’s broken down.’

  As I hung my costumes on their hooks, an image of Lesley’s orange truck blocking a stream of traffic flashed into my mind. I could see Lesley sticking her fingers up at the drivers of the other cars as she yelled into her phone.

>   ‘ . . . And she has Abe’s new costume with her.’

  ‘Oh crap.’ Now it was my turn to swear. I rested one hand on the side of my head, taking in the strain on the faces around me and feeling a rise of panic in my chest. This was bad. It was only half an hour before the opener.

  ‘What about our old costumes?’ I asked quickly.

  Megan shook her head. ‘Did you bring yours? Because I sure as hell didn’t bring mine.’

  A few of the others were shaking their heads too.

  ‘Okay, call me back,’ Abe said. Then she dumped her phone on the bench and glared at the rest of us.

  ‘What does Lesley say?’ asked Gino.

  ‘Bloody LESLEY!’ yelled Abe. Then she threw up her arms and headed for the mirrors.

  The rest of us stood with our arms at our sides, shaking our heads. What are we going to do?

  This kind of thing had happened before. A run in someone’s tights. A forgotten hairpiece. One of us dripping with a cold. But until now, Lesley had always been around to fix it. Somehow, she had always made it okay before it was time to go on.

  But Lesley wasn’t here now.

  For a moment, the crazed excitement of Jay’s car flooded back to me. Chanting for Magic, our every hope and dream resting on a win. Right now, they would be choosing hot dogs and making jokes about the opposition. Maybe they were smiling at other Magic fans, making friends and giving them the thumbs up.

  But I wasn’t in the stands. I was in the changerooms – Madonna in the sound system, Sportscraft manager in the crowd, and Magic management expecting a spec-tacular new opener.

  Great. I put my hands on my hips, breathing fast. ‘Okay, six of us girls have costumes right?’

  Nodding heads and hopeful faces.

  ‘Well, we change the formation to suit eight.’ I looked around, thinking quickly. ‘And Andrew, you come on early to dance your solo. After me.’

  He nodded.

  ‘There’d be a gap at the end when no one’s dancing,’ said Megan thoughtfully.

  I held out my hands, and shook my head. ‘Better than nothing?’

  Slowly, she started to nod, almost smiling. ‘Much, much better.’

  There was a rush to get ready. Make-up, hair, black velvet costumes hugging us tight. Then we headed for the warm-up room, stepping through our solos, trying out new formations and doing quick warm-up kicks. No time for anything more. We worked quietly, an empty sense of panic in out stomachs.

  Lesley, where are you?

  Before I knew it, we were standing behind the big open doors leading to the court, listening to the boom of the announcer and the frenetic murmur from the crowd. Our entrance was beneath the stands, almost hidden from view. But I could see some of what was going on.

  ‘And now, for your entertainment, we have the back-flipping bombshells, the dancing divas, our very own Magic Chaaaaaaaaarms!’

  I sucked in a breath as I stretched out the tightness in my back. Calm down heart, it’ll be okay.

  A pause, then the lights dimmed, sending a hush over the crowd. Next a spotlight for Megan to step into.

  It must have been difficult for her, moving into the cold circle of light, all eyes watching only her, then leaping forwards onto the dim court, like jumping into a black hole.

  One by one, bodies stepped from in front of me and into the spotlight until I was at the front, shaking the fear from my arms and legs. Me next. Omigod.

  Then I heard my cue in the song – Okay, Saph – and the fear melted away. I was turning, spin spin spin, and bursting into my fan kick with pride.

  Let’s get ’em, Saph. Knock ’em dead.

  The court was lighter now, having grown brighter as each of us moved on. I could see the other dancers holding their various poses, like glorious garden statues. A few people in the crowd were stepping up the aisle, still finding their seats. But there was also a kind of hush in the stadium. Yeah, baby, watch this . . .

  As I reached out with both arms, a series of faces flashed through my mind: the uni guy, Jay and his folks, Summer at home. Was Lesley in the stadium yet?

  Sucking in tight, I let the faces fade away until I felt a surge of energy and burst open into a turning leap. Ignore my hair, see past my make-up. See what I can do?

  My arms were in the air, circling as I turned. Step out slowly, up went my peacock tail and forward reached my arm. Into the arabesque. Back muscles groaning but tight. Leg strong behind me.

  Heart thudding, I held my pose.

  Now it was supposed to be Abe’s turn and, just as we had planned, Andrew stepped into the light.

  Calmly I breathed, in and out, in and out . . . I didn’t fight the pain in my back, just held it tight. See, Ms Sportscraft Manager? Aren’t we good?

  When Abe would normally be moving into her hold, Andrew kept dancing – an extra ten seconds we had quickly put together, trying to hide the missing dancer.

  That’s it, Andy, you’re a true professional.

  Soon he reached into his final hold, the last few seconds of stillness . . .

  That’s when I heard it. A haunting familiar sound, snaking up beneath the music and the murmur of the crowd – snaking through the air to me.

  Whooo wip! Whooo wip!

  Jay? In a flash I was back in the noise of the car, just a kid in the back seat cheering for the team.

  A secret chuckle bubbled up from my stomach. I wanted to shake my head and laugh, or throw a Jaffa up to the park side. Stop it all right? This is difficult! But I didn’t do any of those things.

  Instead, I wobbled.

  It wasn’t a cute little baby wobble either, it was the titanic wobble of the century. As my stomach relaxed in a chuckle, my back let out, dipping my leg and tipping me face first into the floor.

  As my hands shot out to catch myself on the court, I heard a gasp from the crowd.

  Get up, Saph. Just get up.

  A gulp. Off the floor. Now listening again for the next cue in the song.

  My cheeks were hot, my neck burning beetroot red. I gulped down the rising panic in my chest, moving forwards into the new formation. Megan was at the point, then Bec and me. Next came a row of three girls, with the two guys in their own row at the back.

  That stupid stupid whistle . . .

  I kept up with the troupe, staying tight in my place – hip roll, head flick, sexy, sassy Saph.

  I made it through okay. But it wasn’t easy. Sassy smiles are pretty hard when you just want to throw up.

  At half-time Megan rested a sleek arm around my shoulders as we walked up the corridor. ‘We did it, Saph. I can’t believe we did it!’

  ‘Yeah.’ I managed a small smile. Megan mustn’t have seen my death wobble. Was there a chance, perhaps, that Lesley had missed it too?

  ‘And I saw the red light on the camera halfway through the opener.’

  Behind us, I heard Bec laugh and felt her arm on top of Megan’s around my neck. ‘About fifteen seconds, girls,’ she said, breathless with glee. ‘Man that was good!’

  Abe was already in the changeroom, dressed in the new costume and ready for the second half. At least it fitted now. As I walked past she lifted one hand. ‘That whistle, Saph. What was that?’

  But I kept going, past the plate of sandwiches, ready to hide in my miserable corner. If it wasn’t for that stupid whistle. Stupid, stupid Jay . . .

  I didn’t get to hide for long.

  Bang went the changeroom door. There was a second of rustling movement, then Lesley was there, eyes flashing. She seemed to fill all the available space in the room. Her chest rose and fell as she panted in front of me.

  I could see Abe to one side, watching closely. The others were peering at the sandwiches on the snack tray.

  ‘Saph . . .’ Lesley said, her voice quiet. She shook her head at me, still panting.

  I bit my lips together, feeling the heat of tears in my eyes, strangling my throat.

  Lesley’s lips opened. ‘You . . . have . . . no . . .’ She spoke slowly,
her voice muffled. ‘No . . .’ She heaved a sigh, and gestured crazily at me as if words escaped her.

  Then she turned, threw her arms up, and left the room.

  The tears started falling then, streaking through my make-up and landing on my bags as I tried to find a drink. What had Lesley started to say?

  You have no . . . idea?

  No sense of professionalism?

  No place in the troupe?

  Whatever it was, I knew it couldn’t be good. You have nothing to worry about, Saph. Everyone makes mistakes!

  Yeah. As if.

  Magic lost the game that night. Maybe I jinxed them. In the second half they were out-scored, out-played, pretty much out-everythinged.

  And boy was I glad. They were out of the finals. Season finished. All over, Rover. And the same went for us too. At least I wouldn’t have to stay at home on Saturday nights, watching for glimpses of the Charms on TV after Lesley kicked me off the troupe.

  After the game, I grabbed my stuff and sneaked out fast. I didn’t even answer when Megan called out, asking if I needed a lift.

  A lift? No. I needed a new life.

  I was so busy escaping Lesley that I didn’t have time to think about what I’d say to Jay about his stupid whistle.

  The carpark was hectic, busy with fans and cars, bright headlights and cold empty dark. Jay was leaning against his door of the four-wheel drive, long arms crossed, eyes cast down. I could see the shapes of his family waiting inside.

  As I walked between the other parked cars, he moved to the back of the four-wheel drive, opening the door and stepping back while I put my bags inside.

  ‘That was a bad night,’ Jay said, as if he was talking about one battle in a long hard war.

  I pretended to care about my things – laying the costumes gently on top. Not that I’d ever be using them again. I bided my time, trying to calm the rolling ball of anger in my chest.

  Everything I care about, everything I’ve worked for – he destroyed it all with one stupid whistle.

  ‘The whole season …’ Jay was saying. Then he sighed, long and slow. ‘All over.’

  All over . . . a lifelong dream.

  ‘Hey . . .’ Jay tapped me lightly on the shoulder. ‘But that um . . . dance at the start. It was really cool.’ His voice soft but close, reaching out to me. ‘I’m sorry about your ah . . . kick.’