Bring It On

by Jasmine Beller

  Chloe shrugged. “Gina is all about respect and rules. And what Devane did—that was like smacking her in the face. You don’t just trash Gina’s choreography without a world of pain coming down on you. That’s almost like breaking all the rules at once.” Chloe started de-earringing the other ear. “I mean, why am I sitting here pulling all this stuff out of my ears? Because Gina says only one pair at a time in class.”

  “I’m still freaking. It might not look like I’m freaking. But I’m freaking,” Sophie said. “So Devane just basically told Maddy and Gina to shove it?” Leaving a spot open that Sammi might be able to take? the smelly little troll voice asked.

  Chloe raised her eyebrows, which seemed to remind her that she had a little gold loop in the right one. “You sound surprised. Devane isn’t exactly the kind of girl who thinks she should be told what to do,” she said as she pulled the loop free. “Be back in a minute. I have to take a whiz.” She covered her mouth and smiled through her fingers at Emerson. “I mean, use the facilities.”

  “Does everyone think I’m a complete priss or something?” Emerson cried when Chloe had disappeared into the bathroom. “Like they can’t even say ‘whiz’ in front of me or I’ll have a conniption?” She threw up her hands in exasperation.

  “Jeez, calm down. I think you might actually have raised your voice,” Sophie said.

  “See, even you think it,” Emerson accused.

  “You want me to say ‘whiz’ in front of you? I’ll say it instead of ’hi’ from now on,” Sophie promised.

  Emerson let out a sigh that sounded like it came from the bottom of her feet. “No, it’s just . . .” She took another look around the locker room. They were still alone. “Do you think everyone thinks I’m a total rule-follower? They all heard me yell at Devane for changing the choreography and cutting in on my solo. What if they think like Devane? What if they think Gina and Maddy only put Devane on probation because I made a fuss because I’m such a priss?” Emerson rubbed her face with her fingers.

  “You’re not a priss because you got on Devane for shoving herself into your solo. Pretty much anyone in the group would have wanted to kick her tail for that. I would have for sure,” Sophie told her. “Devane just wants someone to blame for what happened. You saved her bacon out there. She should have been kissing your feet after the show. Each and every little piggy,” she added, trying to make Emerson laugh. It didn’t work. “Just because covering for her onstage wasn’t enough to keep her from getting probation—that’s not your fault.” Sophie hoped some of this was sinking into Emerson’s noggin. “And it’s definitely not your fault that the Diva had a temper tantrum and quit.”

  Max burst into the locker room. “Devane’s out!” she exclaimed. “Devane’s out of the group!” Her voice became higher with every word.

  “We were just talking about that,” Sophie told her.

  Max put on an exaggerated pout. “I wanted to be the one to tell.” She started stepping up and down on one of the benches like she was in step class. Not that Sophie had ever been in step class. But she’d seen a few while she was channel surfing. Before hip-hop, channel surfing was her main form of exercise.

  The locker room door opened again and Sammi hurried in, followed by a few sweaty girls who were probably in her basic class and Becca from the Performance Group. The basic class kids were usually changing out of their dance clothes while the kids in the Performance Group were using the locker room to get ready for class. “I’m serious,” Sammi was saying to the girls. “No detail is too small.”

  “I saw him drinking a Yoo-Hoo once.” Becca laughed as she unzipped her backpack and pulled out her sneakers. “You’re telling me that detail isn’t too small?”

  Emerson raised her eyebrows at Sophie, asking a silent question. Sophie shrugged. She had no idea what her sister was talking about.

  “Nope,” Sammi said. “That’s one point for Becca. Remember, whoever gets the most points wins a fabulous prize.” Sammi opened her locker. “Whoever gets the most points wins—” She rummaged around inside the locker. “Wins this fabulous People magazine that is only two weeks old.” Sammi held up the magazine and riffled the pages.

  “What do you have to do to get points?” Max asked, dropping to a seat on the bench.

  “One fact about ill papi equals one point,” Sammi answered with a grin.

  The troll in Sophie’s head started to stomp around. So Sammi hadn’t given up. Clearly she was determined to get ill papi interested in her. And when Sammi was determined to get something—watch out. She’d do whatever it took. That’s why she was the best at everything she did.

  Sophie shot a glance at her sister. You’re gonna get a spot in my Performance Group any day now, she thought. Do you really, really need to get the hottest guy in the group, too?

  Of course it’s going to take a little more effort to get noticed by the hottest guy in the place, Sammi thought. He’s used to having tons of girls pay attention to him. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to get in game head for another “accidental” encounter with ill papi.

  You look great, she told herself as she blotted her lipstick on a rough brown paper towel. And you’ve studied for the test. You’ve done your research.

  Well, this is a first—you’re giving yourself a pep talk before meeting a guy, Sammi thought as she shook her head at her reflection, then turned and hurried out of the bathroom, through the locker room, and into the hallway. She’d spent so much time prepping, she had to find ill papi fast or the Performance Group class would start before she got a word out.

  Oh, score. There he was. Over by the soda machine. She could go over and complain to him about how it was always out of Yoo-Hoos. But that didn’t seem like exactly the right thing to bond over.

  She couldn’t believe she was putting this much thought into what to say. She’d never had to plan like this with any other boy. But ill papi was a special case.

  Sammi ran through the facts she’d learned about him. It wasn’t a long list. That ill papi, he was sort of a boy of mystery. She knew he drank Yoo-Hoo. He liked those Madden NFL PlayStation games. He had an Aqua Teen Hunger Force sticker on his backpack. Max had seen him pet one of those little black-and-white dogs with the big ears one time.

  And that was it.

  Yoo-Hoo is a risky opener, Sammi thought as she walked toward ill papi. She could imagine the convo. Her: I love Yoo-Hoo. They should have Yoo-Hoo in this machine. Him: Yeah. Then nothing.

  Sammi had never played Madden NFL, but she did know football. She’d cheered for a ton of games, and she knew exactly what went down on the field. But how to bring the whole thing up? Her: You might not know this, but I’m a cheerleader and I love football. Do you perhaps love football, maybe of the video game variety? Him: Let me get your sister. You seem to be having some kind of brain malfunction.

  There was no more time for strategy. She was two feet away from him. It was now or never. Sammi pretended to study the soda available in the machine. “I saw that Aqua Teen sticker on your backpack the other day. I love that show,” she said.

  Actually, Sophie loved that show. But Sammi had half watched it while Sophie was watching it. It was about a hamburger, some french fries, and a Coke—she thought it was a Coke—fighting crime. Or solving mysteries. Or something.

  “It’s pretty funny,” ill papi answered. Then he walked off.

  Without even looking at her.

  “Becca was looking at me funny in the locker room. I think she thinks that it’s my fault Devane’s out,” Emerson told Sophie as they headed to class. Emerson hesitated outside the door. She wasn’t ready to go in there. “How many other people do you think blame me?”

  “I told you. No one is going to think it’s your fault. Becca was probably looking at you weird—if she even was—because she’s trying to figure out how it’s possible for a human to get her hair into such a perfect French braid. She probably wants to know if there’s a special device you use but is feeling embar
rassed to ask.”

  Emerson laughed. She couldn’t help it. There was something about Sophie. No matter how bad you were feeling, she could make you feel better . . . just by being Sophie.

  “Now come on.” Sophie took her by the arm. “Others need to see the braid. Don’t deny them.” She tugged Emerson into the practice room.

  Max, Chloe, M.J., and Fridge were already inside. And all of them were staring at Emerson. At least that’s how it felt. But maybe she was overreacting. Maybe they’d glanced over at her the way you glance at anyone who enters a room. Just to see who it is.

  But the thing was, glances and stares last a different amount of time. And M.J. and Max were definitely staring now. “Hi,” Emerson said, feeling her face heat up. She had one of those faces that really showed a blush, too. She hated that.

  “Hey,” Chloe answered with a smile. She stepped forward in a lunge and pressed the heel of her back leg down, stretching out her calf muscle.

  “She clearly hates you,” Sophie joked softly. Then she gave Emerson’s arm a squeeze and released her.

  M.J., Fridge, and Max hadn’t said anything. But it’s not like a quiet little “hi” required some big response. Or any response.

  Gina usually had the class work on the Kanye West number after warm-up, so Emerson headed to her opening position on one side of M.J. As she looked at him, Chloe’s words went through her mind.

  M.J.’s about to explode.

  Doesn’t mean he blames me, Emerson thought.

  She cleared her throat, then made herself speak. “Hey, M.J., I can’t wait to do the Kanye number at Disney World, can you?”

  He turned and stared at her. Full-on, no-mistake stared at her. And didn’t say anything. She’d asked him a question. She hadn’t just spit out a little “hi” that someone could answer or not answer.

  O-kay. M.J. was dissing her. And it could only be about Devane.

  “Em,” Sophie called from across the room. “I saw this cool combo on TRL last night and I’m trying to break it down. Help me?”

  “Sure,” Emerson answered. Thank you, thank you, thank you, she added silently to Sophie. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and headed over.

  The twins came in as Sophie started showing Emerson the steps. They were talking to each other, ignoring Emerson and everybody else, but that was normal.

  “Why is it so quiet in here?” Ky asked when he entered. No one answered. He shrugged. Bounced his basketball a few times, then stashed it in the corner.

  He doesn’t seem mad at me, Emerson thought. She wished she could just focus on the moves she and Sophie were working on instead of trying to put everybody who came through the door into either the friend or enemy camp. Make that enemy or not-enemy camp. Right now Sophie was the only one who really felt like a friend.

  Ill papi came in, followed by Sammi a few moments later. Neither looked especially happy. But neither paid any attention to Emerson.

  Then Gina entered, and the whole group came to attention. “I have an announcement,” Gina said.

  Here it comes, Emerson thought, trying to brace herself.

  “Well, two of them, actually,” Gina continued. “I’m pleased to announce that Sammi Qian will be sitting in on our classes. She’s a talented dancer, and Maddy and I think she’s someone who might be a great part of the Performance Group somewhere down the road. Everyone give her a big welcome.”

  There was some applause, but not much. Emerson felt bad for Sammi. The lack of enthusiasm didn’t have anything to do with her. It’s just that everyone knew Sammi had been brought in as a replacement for Devane.

  Gina used her fingers to push her curly hair away from her face. “Second, I’m sorry to say that Devane will no longer be with our group.”

  “Sorry, right,” Emerson heard someone mutter. She thought it was Fridge.

  “Does someone have something to say?” Gina asked, her voice crisp and cool, her eyes narrowed on Fridge. Clearly Gina thought he’d been the speaker, too.

  Max raised her hand. “Go ahead,” Gina told her.

  “Why?” Max asked.

  Gina hesitated a moment. “Maddy and I had decided to put Devane on probation for changing the choreography at the Gulliver Academy show,” she answered. “That was unacceptable to her, so she chose to leave Hip Hop Kidz.”

  “Why?” Max said again.

  Gina frowned. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “Why was she going to get probation?” Max burst out.

  “I’ve just explained it. She changed the choreography. She could have ruined the performance for all of you,” Gina said, color rising to her cheeks.

  “All of us?” a girl—Emerson was almost positive it was Becca—said very softly. “Don’t you mean one?”

  “You still think no one believes it’s my fault that Devane got kicked out?” Emerson whispered to Sophie.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Hey, Sammi!” ill papi called as they left class.

  He knows my name, Sammi thought. And he’s using it. Nice.

  She turned around with a mid-level hair flip. “What’s up?” she asked, with another hair flip. Too much, she told herself. He’s gonna think you have dandruff.

  “I just wanted to ask you what the name of the hamburger in Aqua Teen is,” he said, pulling a notebook and a pen out of his pocket.

  “Um . . .” Sammi thought frantically, trying to remember any names she’d heard during any of those Adult Swim cartoons Sophie watched.

  “EEEE!” A buzzer sound came out of ill papi’s mouth. Loud and harsh and inhuman. “Wrong. There is no hamburger. There’s a meatball. Are you telling me you don’t know the difference between a hamburger and a meatball?”

  “I’m a vegetarian,” Sammi sputtered. She flipped her hair again, and again, and again. White flakes fell like snow onto her shoulders, piled up, then drifted softly to the floor and settled at her feet in dandruff drifts.

  “EEEE!” Ill papi gave that ear-burning sound again. “Then why did you say you drink Yoo-Hoo? Yoo-Hoo is made of liver and brains! EEEE! EEEE! EEEE!”

  “Sammi, are you ever going to shut off your alarm clock?” Sophie yelled from the next room.

  EEEE! EEEE! EEEE! EEEE!

  Sammi sat up and slapped her alarm clock. It tumbled to the floor and went silent. What a horrible dream, she thought. What a monster of a horrible dream. Her encounter with ill papi a couple of days ago before class hadn’t been great. But at least it hadn’t been anywhere near that bad.

  She rolled out of bed and hurried into the living room. It was Saturday, but she definitely didn’t want to go back to sleep. She didn’t want to risk falling into that dream again. “Thanks for waking me up,” she told Sophie. Her sister was practicing the combo Gina had showed them right at the end of class. “You pulled me out of this gruesome dream.”

  Sophie didn’t ask for details. And Sophie loved to hear about dreams, anybody’s dreams.

  “I can’t believe you’re up before me,” Sammi commented. “You’re the original bed slug.”

  “I wanted to get this down.” Sophie turned the music up a little and got back to working the moves.

  Sammi studied her sister. She didn’t looked flushed or pale or anything. But there was something off about her.

  “I could use some practice, too.” Sammi got in sync with Sophie. For about three seconds. Then Sophie stopped.

  “I’m gonna hit the shower. If you go first, you’ll use all the hot water.” She snapped off the music—even though Sammi was still dancing—and started out of the room. “Don’t eat all the Froot Loops,” she called back.

  Even though Sophie knew Sammi hated that cereal.

  What is with her? Sophie thought. It’s like she’s mad at me. But I haven’t done anything.

  Emerson moved front and center for her solo. She checked the classroom mirror to make sure she was in position, then launched into her pirouette. Her body went through the locking she’d rehearsed so many times. But
Emerson felt . . . nothing.

  She definitely wasn’t the full-out Emerson today. She was going-through-the-motions Emerson. She’d been that way all class. Gina had called her on it a few times, and Emerson had tried to force herself out of the dull grayness that seemed to be surrounding her, pushing her down. But she couldn’t.

  Doing these same moves at the Gulliver Academy show had been exhilarating. It was as if the air had had double the amount of oxygen. Or as if gravity didn’t have its usual pull. There was this energy zapping back and forth between her and the audience. And between her and Devane.

  Distracted by the thought, Emerson came out of the pirouette a beat early. “Concentrate!” Gina called out.

  Emerson tried. But there was energy zapping around today, too. Bad energy. Lightning bolts that stung every time Becca or M.J. or Max or Fridge looked her way. This was the second class without Devane. How many classes would be like this?

  She moved into the steps of the finale, then the number was finally done. And so was class. All Emerson wanted to do was get home. It used to be that all she wanted to do was get here.

  “You definitely look like you could use pizza,” Sophie said as they headed toward the locker room. “Let’s change quick and get over there.”

  “Over where?” Emerson asked.

  “No one told . . .” Sophie let her words trail off. “Unbelievable.”

  “What?” Emerson demanded.

  “I was probably supposed to tell you,” Sophie said. “We’re going to meet up at that pizza place on the corner.”

  “We? Who’s we?” Emerson asked, already knowing the answer but hoping she was wrong.

  “The group. Sorry. I don’t know where my brain is.” Sophie whacked herself on the forehead. “I was supposed to ask you, I’m sure.”

  Emerson stopped walking, forcing Sophie to stop, too. “You weren’t supposed to ask me.”

  “Well, Max was actually organizing it. But she probably thought because we were friends that I—”