He frowned a little, looking confused. “But I thought you worked on it over the weekend.”
“Yeah, well.” She moved her shoulders. “I have to catch up. She started this project weeks ago.” Make that months.
“Oh. Oh, well.” He just stood there beside her locker. She realized he was waiting for her. Wow! She was so excited!
“How’s your brother?” he asked. “Did he break his leg?”
“Yes,” she replied happily. Then she heard herself and added, “He has a cast on and he won’t be able to help my mom out much. We were going to divvy up working at Smoothie Town, but now I’m the main worker bee.”
“You’re the double main worker bee,” he said. “Making smoothies and working on science experiments.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I thought of that.”
“So you’ll be pretty busy,” he continued.
She caught her breath. Was he going to ask her out? Like on a date?
“There you are,” Leslie said, marching up to Priya. She was smiling but her voice was kind of . . . tense. “I’ve got us a table.”
“O-kay,” Priya said slowly. She looked at Riley.
Go ahead. Please. Ask me out!
“Catch you later,” he said.
Argh.
“Polarization,” Leslie said. “The light reflects against the prism and . . . Priya?”
Across the warm, steamy cafeteria, Riley was standing in line to pay for his lunch. Priya couldn’t tell what was on the tray, except that he was buying three milks. Impressive!
“Priya?” Leslie said again.
“Sorry.” Priya turned her attention back to Leslie. “Reflection.”
“Yes.” Leslie’s hand roamed over some of the folders she had fanned across their lunch table. There wasn’t much room for actual food.
“Let’s see . . . ah, here it is. Basic facts.” She whipped open the folder marked PRINCIPLES and pulled out a big, thick, juicy handout. “Try this instead of the other article I gave you.”
“Okay,” Priya said. Now Riley was walking across the cafeteria toward a table of guys and girls. Lots of girls. Cute girls. One of them had red hair and big brown eyes; she smiled up at him and scooted out the empty chair next to her.
“No,” Priya whimpered.
“Graff. Shah,” said a voice behind her. It was Marco. He tsk-tsked. “All this work for second place. What a pity.”
“You wish,” Leslie said.
He came around Priya. He had bought lunch, too. It was mac and cheese. Priya loved the caf’s mac and cheese. Her mom hadn’t gone to the store in a while, so Priya had made herself a PB&J on stale bread and unearthed an almost-bad apple from the crisper in the fridge. The apple reminded her of Jordan’s rotten apple in his locker, and she felt sad.
Marco glanced down at the article Leslie was about to hand to Priya.
“Polarization? The effects of, as regarding photosynthesis? You’re going for the tired and true, I see.”
“Ms. Romero thinks it’s very solid,” Leslie retorted.
“I scoff,” he said. Then he glided away.
The girl seated next to Riley threw back her head and laughed as if he had just said the funniest thing in the world.
That should be me, Priya thought.
Just then, she spotted Jordan coming through the metal double doors that led to the cafeteria kitchen. He was carrying a small metal dish, and he was wearing a big white apron and a hairnet!
Priya cracked up. She leaned over to Leslie and said, “Look at Jordan!”
“Priya! You need to focus!” Leslie snapped at her.
“Okay, sorry,” Priya said. She settled in to read about polarization.
Why is he wearing an apron and a hairnet? she wondered. And what’s in the dish?
“Reading,” she said, grimacing. “Promise.”
“So, are you ready to move on?” Leslie asked, tapping her fingers on the table.
“What?” Priya blinked and looked at the clock. Lunch was almost over. She hadn’t even finished the first page of the article.
Because I haven’t really been reading it, she admitted to herself. It was boring, and she had a lot of distractions to deal with—her ex-best friend and the guy she hoped would be her future boyfriend.
The bell rang. Leslie muttered, “Well, this was a huge waste of time,” and started cramming all her files back into another cardboard box. Priya tried to help, but Leslie gritted, “I have a system.”
Then it was time for science lab. More science. Priya’s eyes were crossed. The very thought made her want to run screaming in the opposite direction.
When she and Leslie entered the room, she saw Jordan standing in front of Ms. Romero’s desk with the dish he had had in the cafeteria. Ms. Romero was holding her nose and laughing.
Jordan was laughing, too. Until he saw Priya. Then his smile faded. He slid the dish into a large plastic Ziploc bag and carried it to his new lab stool in the land of As Far Away From Priya As I Can Get.
“Hi, girls,” Ms. Romeo said to Priya and Leslie, who was struggling under the weight of her enormous cardboard box. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, just great,” Leslie said sarcastically. Then she slammed the box onto the floor beside her stool and climbed up on it.
Ms. Romeo raised a brow but said nothing. Priya sat down on her stool, feeling like a total loser.
Then she felt someone staring at her. Someone like Jordan.
She took a breath and glanced over her shoulder.
But he was playing with the Ziploc bag, opening and closing it and talking to himself—or the dish, it was hard to tell—like a lunatic.
Her eyes welled. She missed that lunatic.
It was Monday after school, and it was time for Valerie to face the music—or rather, to dance to it.
LaToya went into the Fusion Works dressing room first, as if she was expecting Valerie to meekly follow behind so she could change into her koala-bear leotard. But Valerie sailed on past and into the dance room.
As she went, she peeled off her heavy dark blue sweater, revealing a stretchy blue velour top she had almost forgotten she owned. But she had found it when her father had asked her to take everything out of her closet so he could pull up her ruined floor.
She had also worn some black bootcut pants that looked almost like the jazz pants she had seen on another dancer. Now she figured she actually looked like a dancer, instead of someone dressed in make-do clothes so she could take a few classes.
Manzuma was in the dance room, dancing alone to some flute music. The director was very graceful, and Valerie paused to watch. She got even more nervous.
Manzuma noticed her, held her pose and said, “Hello, Valerie. Do you want something?”
Valerie hesitated. Then she said, “Yes. I do. I want a chance to show you my dance. I made one up to show Ashanti Utu.”
“Oh?” Manzuma made a little face and dropped her hands to her sides as the music ended. “Your class isn’t quite ready for performing, dear.”
Valerie started to wilt. Then she remembered all the e-mails she had received from her friends. They believed in her. She had to believe in herself.
“Can I just show it to you?” Valerie asked. “I think you’ll really like it, and like I said, I do have a lot of ballet experience.” Manzuma didn’t say anything. She just knit her brows and appeared to be thinking. Which was as good an indication as any to Valerie that she should continue her plea.
“What I did was, I took this poem a friend of mine wrote, and I gave each word a movement. So I dance the poem.”
“Hmm. That’s intriguing,” Manzuma said. “True poetry in motion.”
“Yes,” Valerie said, flushing. “At least, I hope so.”
Manzuma thought a moment. Then she nodded. “All right, dear. Did you bring your music with you?”
“No. I don’t have any,” Valerie admitted. She had already thought through this problem. “But I think it would go very nicely with that pli�
� music you use for the advanced class.”
“Then I’ll put it on,” Manzuma said. “Go take your opening position.”
Valerie was trembling as she walked to the center of the dance floor. Manzuma clicked open the boom box and took out the CD that was already in it. Then she looked through a stack of CDs and put the correct one in.
The heavy bass rhythm vibrated through the floor and into the bones of Valerie’s feet. It was as if the music were tapping her, saying, let’s go!
Valerie performed her step for I—head and shoulders thrown back, arms reaching for the ceiling. Then am. She whirled in a circle.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the movement as the beaded curtain parted. Two of the advanced girls waked halfway through the curtain, then stopped. They were watching her intently.
No, she protested. I don’t want to dance in front of anyone but Manzuma!
But she couldn’t stop now. Valerie knew she had to stay focused. She crouched down, then leaped straight into the air. She whirled around again . . . and saw that LaToya had joined the other two girls.
No! Not LaToya! Valerie flared with anxiety and almost froze up. Her dance began to leave her head. Then she remembered that she was dancing for Manzuma, not LaToya, and pulled herself back together.
She kept dancing, performing each word in the poem, then repeated the entire poem to use up the music. Yes, she thought. I like this!
She finished the repeat, then held her pose for the rest of the music, which lasted about ten more seconds. Her chest was heaving. Sweat poured down her forehead. Her legs were shaking.
The music faded, and stopped.
Then there was loud applause and a couple of “Woo hoos!” Valerie looked across the room to see about half of the advanced class gathered at the perimeter of the dance floor, clapping and cheering.
LaToya, however, stood with her arms crossed, scowling.
Manzuma came up to Valerie, flung open her arms, and gave Valerie a big hug.
“Dear child!” she cried. “That was wonderful, Valerie. Highly skilled. Why didn’t you dance like that at your audition?”
“Thank you,” Valerie managed to say. She was stunned.
“I think you’d do better in the advanced class after all,” Manzuma continued. “As of now, I’m reassigning you. And keep working on the piece, so that you’re in tip-top shape for the audition on Friday.”
“You think I have a chance?” Valerie blurted, practically swaying with joy.
“I do,” Manzuma said with a chuckle. “So keep Saturday clear just in case.”
She turned to the other girls and clapped her hands. “Time for class, girls! Valerie will be joining us.” She walked across the room to retrieve her dance stick.
The other dancers drifted past Valerie to get to the barre. One patted her shoulder; one gave her a high five and said, “Way to dance, girlfriend!”
Another said, “Maybe I could dance your dance with you. We could do a duet.”
LaToya walked toward the barre, her face flushing as one of the other girls said to her, “Your sister sure can dance!”
“Stepsister,” LaToya replied.
Then LaToya got into position in front of Valerie. She turned around and said in a low, angry voice, “Don’t get too excited.”
“It’s time to go, Tori!” Tori’s mother called to her. They were off to a combination sneak-premiere of Kallista’s father’s new sci-fi TV movie. The cable channel that was going to show the movie was filming the private premiere of the movie ahead of the broadcast on TV. They were going to use the footage for commercials and for when they showed the movie on TV.
They had asked everyone to dress up, and Tori and Kallista were more than happy to oblige. They had even planned coordinating outfits. Tori was wearing a dark pink frilly beaded dress with an asymmetrical hem and silver earrings and charm bracelet. Kallista was wearing a silver dress with all-pink jewelry.
“Tori?” her mother called again.
“Coming,” Tori said as she hastily double-clicked on an e-mail from Natalie. She held her breath, hoping that Natalie could give her some much-needed words of wisdom. She was so confused. Michael had IMed her a couple of times, and she hadn’t responded. Then he left her a very sweet e-mail about not being able to connect. He finished it by saying, “Have I done something wrong?” So Tori had e-mailed Natalie, a fellow movie kid, to see if she could give her some guidance on how to 1) deal with a guy and 2) deal with a guy whose dad was in the film industry.
“Tori?” Now her father was calling her.
The message from Natalie popped open.
To: Tori
From: NatalieNYC
Subject: guys & hollywood
dear tori,
i completely understand what you are going through with michael. last year I couldn’t figure out if kyle at school was asking me out on a date to go rollerblading or if it was just a friend thing. It turned out he wanted it to be a date. it sounds to me like that’s what michael (and you!) want, too.
i also understand why your dad is being so super-cautious. one summer when i was in h-wood with my dad, this girl was really nice to me. it turned out her mom wanted a part in my dad’s movie. when it didn’t happen, she said she hated me and she only pretended to be my friend because of my dad. then her mom gave an interview to a magazine and told them private stuff about my dad that i had told her.
i am not saying that michael would ever do anything like that. i know michael is cool and his dad is famous, but my dad likes me to stick to my nyc buds cuz of what happened to me. i know it’s harder for you to have non-industry buds cuz you live in cali 24/7!
i know this isn’t much help, but at least you know i understand.
love,
nat
Tori sighed. Natalie was right. It wasn’t much help. Well, except for the Rollerblading date-that-really-was-a-date. That was good information. Natalie was right: She didn’t think Michael wanted to be “just friends.”
But maybe he does. You don’t know yet.
And she wasn’t sure how she would ever find out.
“Honey?” Tori’s mother said from the doorway. She had on a beautiful calf-length red satin dress and dangling black earrings. “Important e-mail?”
Tori swallowed and nodded, hoping her mom wouldn’t come over to her chair and look over her shoulder at her computer screen. She said, “Mom, do you think it’s okay for people in the movie industry to date each other?”
She looked puzzled. “Well, yes. If they want to.”
Tori smiled to herself. Mom says yes!
Then Tori’s dad came up behind her, handsome in a black suit and white shirt. “What’s holding up the show?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m ready,” Tori said, speaking first so her mom wouldn’t have a chance to spill the beans about her question.
The limo whisked Tori and her parents off to the Arclight, a neat theater often used for premieres. Sci-fi fans had been alerted to the event, and they were crammed behind barricades, searching for their favorite actors and actresses.
Tori was used to the way passersby craned their necks to see if someone famous was inside the limo, then looked disappointed when it was Tori and her family. Fans didn’t care about entertainment lawyers and their kids, but that was fine with Tori.
They walked down the red carpet that led into the theater. Once inside the spacious lobby, Tori spotted Kallista with her parents. As they had planned, Kallista’s gown was silver and her jewelry was silver with pink, glittery gems.
Kallista bounded over to her, giving her a hug. Their families joined up and went to their reserved seats inside the auditorium. The cast and crew were there, and when they saw Kallista’s dad, they all cheered and whooped. Tori could not deny that it was awfully cool to be an industry kid, despite the problems that went with it.
The movie was also very cool—a swashbuckling space opera with lots of intricate computer-graphic spaceships and wicked-ugly aliens. T
ori and Kallista shared a big tub of popcorn and a massive diet Coke, and about halfway through the film, Tori had to go to the bathroom. So she excused herself, tiptoed out of the auditorium, and used the facilities.
She was just about to head back in when she heard someone softly calling her name.
“Tori?” It was Michael!
Tingles and chills washed over her as she turned around to face him. He was wearing black leather pants and a white tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and he looked movie-star hot.
“Wow,” he said, blinking as he took in her appearance. “Will we even look this good at the senior prom?”
She laughed. She loved his sense of humor.
“I didn’t see you in the theater,” she said. How could she have possibly missed him?
“My dad snuck in the back,” he said. “We’re up in the last row. He’s wearing a disguise. He looks just like that pic on the back of the Club Weirdo DVD.”
Tori snickered. “Yeah right.”
“Okay. That’s a lie. But we are hiding in the back row.” He checked his watch. “I’m supposed to meet him in the projection room in a few minutes. He’s signing autographs for the theater people and then we have to leave.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said. “You’ll miss the rest of the movie.”
“We’ll catch it sooner or later,” he said. “We can get a copy for home or just see it on TV.” Then he cleared his throat.
“How have you been all week?” he asked her; then before she could answer, he said, “Tori, tell me the truth. Are you avoiding me?”
“Um.” She wanted to die. She had no idea what to say. “I don’t want to,” she blurted, then winced because that sounded so . . . so true.
“I don’t want to,” she continued, taking a deep breath. “But my dad says your dad is a client, so . . .”
“Oh.” Michael exhaled, rolling back his eyes. “I’m so relieved! I thought you thought I had bad breath or something. But your dad thinks I have bad breath.”
She laughed harder at his witty comeback. Every bone in her body felt like it was loosening up.
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