“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she told him, as he blinked at her in surprise.
“No.” He licked his chin. “This is interesting. What is it?”
“Coconut mi—” she began, just as he picked up the peel from a banana and tossed it at her. But this time she was too quick for him. Squealing, she caught it in mid-throw and tossed it back at him.
He plucked it out of the air as they both started shrieking, doubling over in laughter.
“Hey, you two, you might want to settle down a little,” said a voice behind Priya. It was Riley’s uncle. He was smiling at them, but Priya could tell he meant business.
“Sorry,” Riley said. Then, after a beat, he added, “She started it.”
“I did not!” She smacked Riley’s arm. When he winced hard, she cried, “Oh, I’m sorry! Did I hit you too hard?”
He snorted. “Please.”
“Kids, really, calm down, okay?” Mr. Simpson said. Then a lady with two little kids walked up to the hot dog stand and he left to take her order.
Riley stuck out his lower lip and said to Priya, “You got me in trouble.”
“Oh, right.” She giggled. She hadn’t had a good laugh like this in a long time. Things had gotten pretty serious lately, what with the Jordan situation.
They found a bunch of stuff to unpack and organize in the little stock room in the back. Riley showed Priya some of the tricks of the trade, like putting a piece of colored paper in your stacks of napkins and paper plates so you would notice when you were getting low. He also told her that they would have to be very, very careful about leaving food supplies out.
“Rats,” he told her.
“No way.” She made a face.
“Way.”
They returned to the counter area. Priya searched the crowds for Leslie, but she hadn’t shown yet.
Then her mom’s cell phone went off. The caller ID was her dad’s cell phone number.
“Hi, honey.” It was her mom. “We’re on our way to urgent care.”
“What happened?” Priya asked. “How’s Sam?”
“His coach thinks he broke his leg.”
“Oh, no!”
“Yes. Poor Sam.” Her mom took a breath. “I hate to ask this of you, Priya, but you know Smoothie Town is opening in a week. If Sam’s going to be on crutches, I’m going to need some extra help.”
“Mom, of course,” Priya said. “I’ll do whatever I can. I’ll even skip school.”
Her mother chuckled. “Nice try. And thank you, sweetie. I appreciate it. You won’t have to skip school, but you might have to work over the weekend.”
“No problem,” Priya assured her. “Riley and I unpacked a bunch of stuff.” She told her everything they had done.
“Thank you.” Her mom sounded very appreciative, and that made Priya feel good.
“Oh,” Priya said, as she spotted Leslie. She was standing in front of the food court sign in a heavy green jacket wearing her backpack. A woman who looked just like her—ponytail and glasses—stood beside her, holding a big cardboard box.
“Leslie just showed up,” she told her mother.
“Okay. Get your work done. Call me later, all right? Just to check in. Hopefully we’ll have more information on Sam’s leg.”
“Tell him I hope he feels better,” Priya said, worried about him.
As she disconnected, she said to Riley, “They think my brother broke his leg.”
“Oh, man,” Riley said, grimacing. “That’s a bummer.”
“Yeah. My mom’s grand opening is next week, too.”
“We’ll help you,” Riley promised.
Priya smiled. The she waved at Leslie, catching her eye, and Leslie waved back. She and the woman walked over.
Leslie said, “This is my mom.”
“Hello. You must be Priya,” Leslie’s mom said.
“Yes, and this is Riley. His uncle owns the hot dog stall,” she said.
“Are you on the science fair team?” Mrs. Graff asked him.
“No,” Riley replied. “I’m more of an English and history person.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Graff shrugged as if Riley had just ceased to exist. She indicated the box in her arms and said to Leslie, “Well, honey, where shall I put this?”
“It’s notes I’ve already taken,” Leslie explained to Priya. “Just basic research. I put everything on file cards and then I input them once I can see my way through the information.”
She looked around at the food court tables and pointed to one near the Indian food stall. She said, “How about there, Mom? I’ll go get the rest.”
“There’s more?” Priya blurted.
“Oh, yeah. I found some phenomenal sources,” Leslie said. Her eyes shone. “This is going to be the best science fair project I’ve ever done!”
“I’ve”? Not “we’ve”? Priya thought a little anxiously.
“Leslie’s an old hand at science fairs,” Mrs. Graff announced as she gazed at her daughter with pride. “Before we moved, she went to a science and technology magnet school. Her room is just filled with science fair trophies.” She gave Leslie’s cheek a pat. “I’m sure she’ll soon have another one to add to the collection.”
“Oh, Mom,” Leslie said, rolling her eyes. But it was pretty obvious she agreed.
“I’ll carry that box over to the table for you,” Riley offered.
“And I’ll take your backpack,” Priya said.
“Thanks. Here.” Leslie slipped off the straps and handed the pack to Priya. Priya’s knees buckled. It was amazingly heavy. “What’s in here?”
“A few basic texts,” Leslie said. She grinned at Priya. “I hope your school library card’s got some space on it. I’ve checked out my limit, and there’s a couple more we’re going to need.”
“Right. My card’s good. We have room for lots of books.” Possibly because she hadn’t checked any out lately.
“Great.” Leslie rubbed her hands together. “I’ll go get the other box out of the car. Can you work maybe two hours? My mom can give you a ride home.”
“Anything for the cause,” Mrs. Graff said.
“I’m not sure. My brother broke his leg, so my parents are taking him to urgent care,” Priya said.
Leslie tapped her chin. “Oh. They’ll be there forever. What about three hours?”
Three hours? On a Friday night?
With the girl who is going to rescue me from getting a C in science? she reminded herself.
“I’m supposed to check back in a while to see how my brother is,” Priya said. “I’ll ask then.”
“Okay, then.” Leslie beamed at Priya. “I’ll be right back.”
Priya and Riley walked to the empty table Leslie had selected and Riley set down the box.
He said, “Wow, is all this for the Tri-County Regional Science Fair?”
She cocked her head. “I guess so. We’re brand new partners. I had a different partner but that didn’t work . . .” She trailed off.
Heavily bundled against the cold, Jordan was walking past the food court. He was alone, and he looked like he was in a hurry. He didn’t see her . . . or if he did, he pretended not to.
“I had a different project partner,” she said, “but he was kind of a slacker.”
Riley perched on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. He was so seriously cute.
“It’s hard to work in groups,” he said.
Just then Leslie bustled back in alone, carrying a box identical to the one on the table.
Gulp.
Riley straightened. “Well, I’d better let you two get to it.” He slung his thumbs in his pockets and added, “Are you going to be here tomorrow?”
Ohmigosh! Priya couldn’t believe it. A very cute, nice eighth-grader wanted to know if she was going to be there tomorrow!
“Maybe,” she said.
“Cool,” he replied. Then he walked back to his uncle’s hot dog stand.
Priya watched him go. She wanted to hop up and down or squeal or somethi
ng, but she kept herself under control. She wanted to ask someone if asking if she was going to be there tomorrow meant he was interested in her, or if it just meant he was nice.
“Leslie,” she said excitedly, as the other girl reached the table.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Leslie said, setting the second box down beside the first. “And this is just the beginning. We are going to kill the competition! Especially Marco Rubio,” she said, with a funny little smile. “He dares to tread on my subject matter! I thought of photosynthesis first.”
“Right,” Priya said. She grinned. “Listen, Leslie, Riley—”
“Okay. Let the games begin,” Leslie said, opening the first cardboard box. “We’re going to have to hustle if you only have three hours. Once I stayed up for two days straight on a project. It was worth it, though.” She nodded at the memory.
Priya sensed this was not the time to discuss Riley.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s hustle. Since we only have . . . three hours.”
It was Friday afternoon. After Valerie settled herself in the corner of the dance room to do her homework during LaToya’s class, she flipped open her folder and pulled out the print she had made of Alyssa’s awesome painting-poem thingie. It was amazing to her that someone her own age—someone she knew—was so talented. And she was thrilled that her story about Ugandan women had inspired it.
“What’s that?” LaToya asked, trying to peer over her shoulder.
Valerie put it back in her notebook. “Nothing.”
LaToya sniffed. “Fine. I don’t want to see it anyway.”
Manzuma strode into the room with her dance skirt whirling around her long legs, and the advanced girls all lined up at the ballet barre. She looked so excited that she was actually glowing. “Girls, I have exciting news!” she said. “Ashanti Utu is going to be in town next week.”
The advanced students all squealed and clapped their hands, jumping up and down.
“Who’s that?” Valerie asked.
Seeing her expression, Manzuma explained, “Ashanti Utu is a world-famous choreographer and modern dancer. She’s an old friend of mine. She lives in Paris and I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Will she be coming to the studio?” LaToya asked.
Manzuma nodded. “Not only that, but I want to mount a recital for her. It’ll be on Saturday, a week from tomorrow, here at Fusion Space. I’ll use the three animal dances the company dancers have been learning, plus I’ll give four students the opportunity to present original works. That’ll round our recital out nicely.”
LaToya sucked in her breath. “We’re going to perform our own work for her?” she cried, all total drama.
“If your piece is selected,” Manzuma said, amused at LaToya’s assumption that her dance would be one of those chosen.
LaToya didn’t even register Manzuma’s comment. Her eyes were shining. Valerie could practically see the visions of greatness dancing in her head.
“All right, ladies, enough,” Manzuma said over the hubbub as the girls chattered among themselves. “We’ll have a short warm-up and then I’ll give you some time to start working on your dances. You only have a week to choreograph and learn them, so don’t make them too complicated.”
As the girls settled down, she walked over to her boom box. She hit Play and fantastic tribal music vibrated through the air.
“Please do your plié combination,” Manzuma said, picking up her stick.
She began to pound out the rhythm of the music. As the class began to move, Valerie found her eyes drawn back to Alyssa’s poem.
Hey, wait . . .
What if each word of Alyssa’s poem was a dance step? And all the steps together could be the dance of her poem! Her poetry dance!
Valerie’s entire body tingled. She knew she had a great idea. She could just feel how creative it was. I can do this. It’ll be just amazing!
Watching LaToya’s class go through their paces, she thought about what steps she would perform for each word. She decided to include some ballet moves. For “I” she would use the pose that had inspired Alyssa—the model standing with her hands up in the air, her back slightly bent. For “am” she would cross her hands over her chest.
Yes. I see the whole thing!
She spent the entire class mapping out her steps in her mind. She couldn’t wait to actually try them out; to perform her dance for Manzuma in her class. Her heart was pounding with excitement.
I’m in the zone, just like Alyssa was, she thought. I’m creating art!
LaToya’s class finally ended. As soon as the advanced girls cleared the dance space, Valerie leaped up and started stretching. She wanted to be warmed up and ready to go. She had a lot of dancing to do!
Manzuma left the room for the break between classes. LaToya stayed behind and primped in the mirror, checking her cornrows and reapplying her red lip gloss.
Gazing at Valerie in the mirror, LaToya said, “I can’t believe you didn’t know who Ashanti Utu is.”
“So Ashanti Utu-sue me,” Valerie replied, giggling. She was too happy to let LaToya bug her.
The beginning students trickled in and wandered over to the barre. Valerie eagerly joined them. Then Manzuma pushed through the beaded curtain, silently counting the number of girls as she walked over to the boom box.
As her hand hovered over the Play button, she said, “Girls, I have a wonderful announcement. Ashanti Utu will be visiting our studio. The advanced class will put on a recital for her a week from Saturday. You and your families are welcome to attend. I’ll make up a flyer you can take home.”
Then she punched on the music.
“Let’s start with some stretches,” she told the class. “Does everyone remember how to do a plié?”
Valerie’s lips parted in dismay. The beginners’ class wasn’t being given the chance to create dances for the recital! She quickly raised her hand.
“Aren’t we going to try out for the recital?” she asked.
“No, dear,” Manzuma said. “Just the advanced class.”
Not fair!
LaToya smirked at her. “Soften your fingers,” she said under her breath as she ambled past Valerie. “They look like claws.”
chapter SIX
Posted by: Val
Subject: Excited & frustrated!
You know how I’m taking dance at LT’s studio? Well, the teacher announced that this famous dancer is coming to the studio in two weeks and she’s picking four dances for the students to show her.
So I came up with the coolest thing—I took Lyss’s poem and I made a step up for each word. It is totally awesome! But then I found out that the beginners’ class isn’t allowed to try out!
Now all LT talks about is how she’s gonna blow the competition out of the water and get discovered and move to France. I am trying to ignore her, but she is loving telling everyone at school that I’m in the baby class and all we get to do is watch “the real dancers.”
What do you think I should do?
Trying to stay chilly,
Val
To: Val
From: Jenna
Subject: Re: Excited & frustrated!
Hi, Val,
I’m so glad you like dance again! Awesome! Maybe you could put on some music and do your dance before your class, and then your teacher would see it. What do you think?
Your friend,
Jenna
P.S.: I think you are doing an awesome job of dealing with LT.
To: Val
From: NatalieNYC
Subject: follow your dream!
val, it is so cool that you created a dance from lyss’s poem! why don’t you show it to manzuma anyway? my dad always says that the reason he became a famous actor was that he never gave up. he asked to audition for the first spy movie and everyone kept saying no. but he kept asking and finally the director said okay just to shut my dad up! and my dad got the part! and the rest is history.
do the same thing! then you might be on dancin
g with the stars with my dad! lol!
love,
nat
To: Val
From: BrynnWins
Subject: Re: follow your dream!
Val, I suggest you show Manzuma your dance! The worst that can happen is that she will tell you that she doesn’t like it.
Just Do It! Your friend, Brynn
To: Val
From: Candace
Subject: take a chance
I say, go for it!
TTFN,
Candace
Posted by: Alyssa
Subject: FREE ALYSSA!
Hello, everybody,
The most amazing thing has happened. I have started getting e-mails from kids all over the world about my Works contest entry! Some of them have sent me pictures of themselves in black T-shirts with white letters, like Tori and her friends. Do you guys know how this happened?!
I’m not sure what to do, but it’s been really nice to read so many letters of encouragement. I’m trying to answer all of them, but there are a lot!
Yours in Art,
Lyss
Posted by: natalie
Subject: FREE ALYSSA!
hi, lyss and everyone,
guilty of spreading the word! i told some of my friends at school, and hannah e-mailed a few people. hannah’s mom is an ambassador and she has e-mail friends all over the world. so then those friends e-mailed their friends and it looks like it’s become a chain! somehow your e-mail addy must have gotten added. (hope it’s ok!)
this is just more proof of how awesome your pic is!
love,
nat
Alyssa worked all weekend to come up with another entry for the Works contest. She ransacked her closet, where she had kept every sketch she had ever done, and looked through them for hours. Some of them were pretty good, but nothing matched Ode to a Woman.
Falling in Like #11 Page 6