“Is that the same show you’re going to be doing at Disney World?” she asked, looking mostly at Sophie, although she did a low-level hair flip in ill papi’s direction. She thought he noticed it, but she wasn’t sure.
“Part of it,” Sophie answered.
“I gotta go,” ill papi said. “There’s a bus in fifteen.”
“Our dad’s going to swing by and pick us up in his cab,” Sammi told him. “I’m sure he could drop you off.”
“It’s no big. See you, Soph.” And there he went. All, “See you, Soph.” Like there was no Sammi.
Sammi stared after him. She didn’t get it. It’s like she’d become the “before” in a deodorant commercial or something. And it was sort of like Sophie was the “after.” At least ill papi didn’t run screaming every time Sammi’s sister was around. The way he did with Sammi.
“What were you and ill papi talking about when I came up?” she asked.
“I don’t even remember,” Sophie said. “What did you think of my solo?”
“Supah-fly,” Sammi answered. “That combo that started with the side kick—it ruled. Even more than the four hundred times I saw it at home.” She knocked shoulders with her sister. “So what were you guys talking about? You had the boy practically giggling like a little girl.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. I was asking him how he got the name ill papi. I was asking if was because he broke the record for projectile vomiting.”
“You did not!” Sammi fake-shrieked.
“You know me. I’ll ask anything.” Sophie shrugged.
The way to get to ill papi couldn’t be by talking about puke. Sammi would not accept that.
“Hey, here comes Maddy,” Sophie said. “I hope she liked the show.”
“There’s no way she didn’t,” Sammi answered.
“Hi, there, Qian girls,” Ms. Caulder said when she came to a stop in front of them. “Sophie, I just wanted to say what a great job I thought you did in your very first show. I’m so glad you agreed to be part of the Performance Group.”
“You’re glad? I’m the one who’s glad. Ecstatic, thrilled, overjoyed . . . I can’t even think of enough words,” Sophie told her. She smiled so big, Sammi thought she might crack her face open. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Sophie so happy.
“Good to hear it. And I think your sister might be just as talented.” Maddy turned to Sammi. “It looks like we’re going to have an opening in the Performance Group much sooner than I thought. I’m not going to make any decisions about filling it right now. But after seeing you in class the other day, I have to say, I’m thinking about you as a possibility.”
“Really?” Sammi couldn’t believe this. How cool would it be to get all TRL onstage? How cool would it be to be able to see ill papi a lot more?
“Really,” Maddy answered. “The Performance Group class is right after the class you’re taking now. Feel free to sit in if you want to. Check it out.”
“That would be the best!” Sammi looped her arms around Sophie’s shoulders. “The Qian girls together!”
Sophie smiled at her. Her mouth muscles must have gotten tired, Sammi thought. Because it wasn’t the crack-her-face grin Sophie’d had on before.
Emerson headed through the lobby, her gym bag over her shoulder. She’d already changed out of her costume and washed off her stage makeup. She’d gone straight back to the dressing room after her showdown with Devane. There was no one she’d needed to see right after the show.
Not like Sophie, she thought as she spotted Sophie with her arm around her older sister as they chatted with Maddy.
Emerson’s mother had gone to every single ballet recital Emerson had ever had. She lived for them. Emerson wondered if her mother would have come to the show today. If Emerson hadn’t needed a French tutor. And if there had been a way for Emerson to do hip-hop and ballet—including the Nutcracker—without damaging her GPA. And if Emerson hadn’t had to lie just to be here today.
“Your duet was amazing,” a tall guy told Emerson as she reached the door.
“Thanks,” Emerson said, not bothering to mention that her duet was supposed to have been a solo.
“Can I get an autograph?” the guy asked.
“Really?” Emerson asked.
He nodded. “I already got your partner’s.”
My partner. Right, Emerson thought. “Sure,” she said. The guy held out his program and pointed to a spot right next to Devane’s lavish one-name-only signature. Her own name looked too neat and prim when she added it.
“Cool. Thanks,” the guy said.
“Thank you,” Emerson said. “That was my first autograph ever.” And giving it should have been a lot more fun, she thought.
She stepped out into the hall and headed for the main exit. The car would be waiting for her. She hoped Vincent was driving. She could use somebody to talk to about the Devane madness. Their fight kept replaying in her head. And she thought the only way to get it to stop looping was to talk it out. Vincent would be the perfect—
“I’m talking to you!”
The loud voice cut into Emerson’s thoughts. She turned around and saw Devane. Perfect. Just what she needed, another confrontation with the Diva.
“Why didn’t you stop before?” Devane demanded.
“I didn’t hear you,” Emerson said. “I was thinking. You should try it sometime.”
“Yeah, you can make jokes now that you went running to Mama.” Devane took a step closer, getting up in Emerson’s face.
“What?”
“What?” Devane repeated. “Don’t act all innocent. I know you went crying to Gina and Maddy about how wrong it was for me to steal your solo.”
Emerson shook her head. “Devane, I didn’t say anything to them. But it turned out they heard part of that fight we had. I don’t know how much.”
“So it’s just the same as if you went running to them,” Devane shot back. “They heard you wailing about how I stole some of your spotlight. About how I was so selfish because I didn’t let you have it all to yourself. You—”
“Devane, stop,” Emerson ordered, surprising herself. “Gina and Maddy didn’t need to hear me say anything. They didn’t need me to tell them that what you did was wrong. Everybody in the group knew it was wrong. And Gina definitely didn’t need me to tell her you changed the choreography. Did you think she wouldn’t notice?”
“Everybody did not think it was wrong,” Devane insisted, her eyes hot.
Emerson remembered M.J. telling Devane how tight he thought her moves were. “Okay, not everybody. But if Gina and Maddy did, they came up with it on their own. They don’t need me to think for them.”
“So you’re telling me you think I’d still be out of the group if they didn’t know how upset I’d made precious little Em-er-son?” Devane demanded.
Wait. Emerson’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t think of what to say. She had mush head again. Why did that keep happening to her around Devane?
“Yeah, you can’t deny it’s all your fault,” Devane accused. “Or that you’re happy about it. It’s exactly what you wanted. Now you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”
“I didn’t—” Emerson started to protest. “I’m not—”
But she was talking to Devane’s back. Devane was already rushing away. That kept happening.
CHAPTER 9
Emerson slid on her very appropriate dress, zipped it up, and made sure she hadn’t mussed her French braid. There was a light tap on her door. A half a second later, the door swung open, and her mother stepped inside. Her mother always did that—knocked, then came in without waiting for an answer.
“You look lovely, sweetie-poo,” she told Emerson.
At the use of the pet name, Emerson felt something crack inside her. She suddenly wanted to hurl herself at her mom like she was a five-year-old again and sob out the whole story of her horrible, hideous, humiliating day. How Devane had almost ruined the performance. And how Devane had y
elled at her. And most of all, how Devane had tried to blame Emerson for Devane’s getting kicked out of the group. Even though Emerson had nothing to do with it. At all.
But that would mean telling her mother what a big, fat liar Emerson was. And that’s all they’d end up talking about. How wrong it was to lie. And how disappointed her mom— and her dad, because he’d have to be told, of course—were in her. And how she’d ruined her life and her college career by quitting ballet. And how now her mother wouldn’t get her picture in the paper. Well, that wasn’t true. Her mother was always getting her picture in the paper for some charity thing. But how now her mother would get her picture in the paper one less time.
And then Emerson’s parents would strap her into a pair of toe shoes and she’d never, ever get to do hip-hop again.
“You aren’t getting sick, are you?” Emerson’s mother asked, pressing her hand against Emerson’s forehead.
“No. No, I’m fine,” Emerson said quickly. “Why?”
“You just looked pale to me is all,” her mother answered. “Our guests should be coming soon. We should be downstairs to greet them.”
Emerson’s phone rang. Her mother nodded, giving Emerson permission to answer it.
“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay after the ruckus,” a voice began after Emerson said “hello.”
“Sophie?”
“Of course. So are you okay?” Sophie asked.
Emerson glanced at her mother. Her mom was looking through Emerson’s jewelry box, probably searching for the most appropriate necklace. “So you heard about Devane . . . not coming to class anymore?”
“What?” Sophie exploded. “No! Tell!”
“She said she was out. And it was my fault.” Emerson shot another look at her mom. She didn’t seem to be listening.
“I need a lot of details,” Sophie said.
“I can’t right now. My parents are giving a dinner party, and I need to be there,” Emerson answered.
“Okay, second reason I called. My own loving parents want to take me and my sister out to celebrate the show and—well, I’ll fill you in on the other part later. I want you to come with us. Movies tomorrow. We can pick you up.”
“One sec.” Emerson put down the phone. “Mom, one of my friends from, um, dance wants to know if I can go out to the movies with her and her family tomorrow.”
“Which girl?” her mother asked.
“You don’t know her. She’s new,” Emerson said. “Her name’s Sophie Qian. Her parents will pick me up.”
“Sounds fine.” Her mother held up a simple gold chain. “Wear this. It will be perfect with this dress. And don’t be long.”
“Okay,” Emerson said as her mom left the room. She picked up the phone. “Sorry I made you wait. My mom says I can go.”
“Yay! Let me write down your address.”
Emerson rattled off the address, hearing the doorbell ring downstairs. “I have to go let my parents show me off to their friends.”
“Fine, but you’re telling me every single word Devane said tomorrow. We’ll pick you up at one.” Sophie hung up without saying goodbye.
Emerson smiled. She felt like it was the first time she’d smiled in about a week. Then she sucked in a deep breath and headed out of her bedroom and down to the party.
Her stomach started attempting a flare in her belly when she saw Mrs. Hahn in the front hall. Mrs. Hahn, as in the mother of Bailey Hahn. Bailey Hahn, as in one of the girls Emerson had been in ballet with since forever.
Mrs. Hahn was one of those moms who not only went to every recital, but stayed to watch every class. So she knew Emerson’s secret. At least half of it. She knew Emerson wasn’t going to ballet anymore.
“Emmy!” Mrs. Hahn cried. She rushed over and kissed Emerson on the cheek. “It’s been too long. Haven’t you been feeling well?”
Emerson’s mother turned toward them at the question. And Emerson’s stomach started trying to do what felt like cross-legged flares. Not that a stomach had legs. But that’s still how it felt.
This was it. Emerson’s life was going to end right now.
“I thought she looked pale myself,” Emerson’s mother said. “But she said she’s feeling fine, so fingers crossed.”
The doorbell rang. Emerson’s mother started toward it. Emerson’s father asked Mrs. Hahn a question about her golf game.
And the crisis was over.
For now.
But how long until all my lies come out? Emerson thought.
“So Devane said she was out of the group because Gina and Maddy knew you were upset about what she did?” Sophie demanded.
“Yeah.” Emerson flopped down on the padded plastic seat of the bench next to the row of sinks in the movie theater ladies’ room. And Emerson wasn’t much of a flopper. She was a proper sitter-downer. Sometimes she even crossed her ankles.
Sophie snorted. “That’s such bull—baloney. Like Maddy and Gina wouldn’t have minded that she changed the choreography if you hadn’t gotten upset about it.”
“That’s what I told Devane! I told her they’d still be mad even if they hadn’t overheard me saying anything to her.” Emerson sighed. “So why do I feel so bad?” She shook her head. “Right after the show, I was furious. But now, when I think of Devane being kicked out of the group, I just feel kind of sick to my stomach.”
“It’s because you’re way too nice,” Sophie told her. “Or because you’re way too stupid. You haven’t actually started believing that trash Devane spewed, have you?”
“No. Not really. I just—” Emerson shoved herself off the bench. “You know what? We aren’t going to talk about this anymore today. This is supposed to be a celebration of you getting in the Hip Hop Kidz Performance Group and our first show and everything. I’m not going to ruin it talking about Devane.”
“It’s also a celebration of Sammi practically getting into the Performance Group,” Sophie reminded her.
“It is pretty amazing that Maddy asked her to sit in on the Performance Group class when Sammi’s only been taking the basic class for about a week,” Emerson said.
“Amazing. Yeah. That’s our Sammi. She does eight amazing things before breakfast.” Sophie rested her head against the cool plaster wall. “Wow, that came out bitter, didn’t it?”
Emerson shrugged. Which in polite Emerson-speak meant, “Yeah, it came out really bitter, Soph.”
“You want to know a secret?” Sophie asked.
“Yeah. I do. I really do,” Emerson said. “You know mine already. You know my parents have no clue I’m even in the Performance Group.”
“Okay. I’m going to sound like a troll person, but I’m jealous of my sister. There it is. It’s out there. A big puddle of stink. See, Sammi’s good at everything. She’s a cheerleader, but she’s not just a cheerleader—she’s head cheerleader. She’s a great student, but she’s not just a great student—she’s on the honor roll. Fill in about fifty more examples and you’ve got my older sister.”
Emerson nodded. “Sounds kind of hard to live with. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. All I have to compare myself to is the perfect Emerson my parents think I could be if I tried a little harder,” Emerson said. “The one who speaks French like a Parisian. And who definitely doesn’t do hip-hop.”
“I deal with most of the Sammi stuff okay,” Sophie said. “I’m proud of her, even. And most of the time she’s my best friend. But I just really, really wish she hadn’t decided to make Hip Hop Kidz one of her things, you know?” Sophie concluded. “It’s totally selfish, but I wanted it to be just mine.”
“It’s not so selfish to want one thing of your own,” Emerson said. “I want it, too. I want it so much, I don’t care how my parents feel. I don’t care that I have to lie to them pretty much every day.”
The door swung open and Sammi poked her head into the bathroom. “Come on, you guys, the movie’s about to start! You’re missing the celebration!”
“We’ll be right there,” Soph
ie said. She looked over at Emerson. “Can I get a woo-hoo?”
Emerson pumped her fist in the air and slapped a big grin on her face. “Woo-hoo!”
Sophie had always thought her sister was her best friend. But she was starting to realize that wasn’t true anymore. Emerson was the person she wanted to tell her secrets to and complain to and just have fun with.
“Do you think Maddy will make an announcement about Devane before class or what?” Emerson asked Sophie as they sat in the locker room before class.
“She’ll have to say something,” Sophie answered. “She can’t just—”
The door swung open, and Sophie stopped speaking.
“Talking about Devane?” Chloe asked, dropping her gym bag on the bench across from them.
“Do you have radical bat ears or what?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t think bats have better hearing than people. They do that echolocation thing. But that’s different,” Chloe answered. She started taking earrings out of the multiple piercings in her right ear. “I just figured you were talking about Devane because you looked so hush-hush.”
“What have you heard?” Emerson asked, her face wrinkled up in a worried expression.
Poor Em, Sophie thought. She clearly still has that sick feeling she told me about over the weekend.
“That she got probation because she was such a complete diva at the show,” Chloe answered.
“Probation?” The word came out of Emerson’s mouth in a squeak.
“Wait! Probation!” Sophie echoed. “I heard she was out.”
“She is. Devane supposedly got all huffy about the punishment and quit. M.J.’s about to explode,” Chloe told her.
“Well, that was pretty dumb of her. She should have just taken the probation,” Sophie said.
Chloe shook her head. “That’s not why M.J. was mad. He didn’t think Devane deserved probation in the first place.”
Emerson made a small adjustment to one of her socks. “Do you?”
Sophie wanted to hear this. She couldn’t believe even one person in the group was okay with what Devane had done. But maybe M.J. just thought probation was too harsh.
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