Bending Over Backwards (11 page)

“Nothing.” I made my voice sound casual. “Dad gave me the ticket. He said I could use it whenever I wanted. I want to go now. Dad said it was okay.”

“He said you wanted to stay longer. A lot longer.”

I heard the hurt in her voice and felt horrible. “It was just a silly thought. I don't want to leave you. It has nothing to do with you. Really.” I gulped. “Can I go for the weekend?”

“Molly, I think it's great that you want to see your dad.” She spoke softly. “I would never stop you. I just wish you'd spoken to me first before rushing ahead.”

I grimaced. “I do that a lot. Rush ahead.”

“You do,” Mom agreed.

“Can I go? The plane leaves soon. I'm all packed.”

Mom pressed her fingertips together. “You can't miss school.”

“But . . .” I thought about telling her some other story to convince her. Then, without warning, the whole horrible Roseann Project–Olympics story tumbled out.

Mom gathered me in her arms, and I pressed my face against her soft sweater. “Making friends is hard, Molly. I know. Do you realize I haven't met anyone outside my office yet?”

“We should hang out together,” I joked halfheartedly.

“I'd like that.” She gave me a reassuring squeeze.

I hadn't realized that Mom was having a hard time too. Now that I thought about it, I wasn't the only one who had left folks behind in Arizona. My mom had given up my aunt Kelly and her friend Lora in the move.

“Why'd you move us if we had to leave the people we liked?” I asked. “I mean, I know you got the good job and all, but . . .”

“The job is a big thing, Molly. Big financially and big for me.” She twirled a strand of her hair, silent for a moment. “I needed a fresh start. Since your dad left, I'd been stuck. He moved forwards. He found Carmen. I needed to jump-start my life, and I had to make a big change to do that.”

“You didn't even ask me,” I said quietly.

“I know. I made a selfish choice, but I really think it will be good for our family. Alex seems to really like it here. I hope, in time, you will too.” She scratched my back exactly where it feels best. “We both have to give it some time.”

“I can't face Roseann today,” I confessed.

“Running away from your problems isn't the answer. Roseann sounds like a nice girl. I'm sure she'll get over this.”

“That's why I should wait until Monday,” I insisted.
“It'll be better then.”

“You're tougher than you think, Molly,” she promised me.

“Everything is harder here.”

“You're growing up. Everything is harder no matter where you live,” Mom said.

“So can I miss school today?” I asked again.

“You agreed to be part of their dance group. Isn't the dance now choreographed for six people?” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but they can change it back. They don't need me.” I played with the zipper of my duffel. “She might never want to be my friend again, you know.”

Mom nodded. “That's a possibility. You won't know if you hide from her. A friendship is built on trust. You need to give her a reason to trust you.”

I groaned and continued to pull the zipper open and closed.

“Today's talent show isn't only about Roseann,” she reminded me. “All those other girls are waiting on you too.”

I thought of Miranda. She needed me alongside her to keep up. Plus, she smiled at my jokes. Sometimes.

“How's this? You go be fabulous in that talent show. I'll have Alex pick you up after school and drive you
to the airport for a quick trip to see your dad. And Eden,” she said knowingly.

“I can go back home?”

“This is home, Molly. Here. With me. But, yes, you can go to Arizona for the weekend.
After
school.”

Mom's mind had been made up. I could live with that.

“That's great!” I wrapped her in a hug. “What about Andre?” I'd told her how Andre's gym made me feel so alone and bad at gymnastics.

“Let me call him this afternoon. I'll sort out the money part somehow.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Mistakes happen.” She kissed my forehead. “I'll also drop the red silk shirt at the dry cleaners. But when you get back, you and Alex are replanting the grass seed—and doing a whole lot more yard work.”

“I kind of figured that.” I grimaced. “Hey, how about I plant it now instead of going to school?”

“Good try, but no.”

“I figured that too.”

“Listen, sweetie, if things don't work with Roseann, there are other girls in your school, you know,” Mom said.

“I know, but I'm going to handle this.” I stood.

“I'm proud of you.” She stood too. “Be ready in ten minutes?”

“Do you have dark red lipstick I can borrow?” I asked, rummaging in my drawer for a black tank.

“Dark red? Wow!” She seemed surprised. “Isn't that a bit much?”

“You said I should—”

“No, dark red is fine.” She stepped into the hall, then turned. “I have this strong feeling that everything is going to turn around, and you'll have so much fun today.”

“I hope so.” I thought about the apologies I needed to make—to Kate, to Mrs. Murphy, and to Roseann again. Not my definition of fun.

“Bring your bag. I'll call your dad and talk with Alex. Meet you downstairs.” She headed off.

“Hey, Mom! I might need more than ten minutes.” I shook out my long curls. “I have to blow my mane straight.”

“Now?” she cried. “Why?”

“There's a photo,” I explained. “If I'm going, Roseann says I've got to look good!”

“Is my lipstick crooked?” Miranda gave me a lopsided grin.

“Not at all.” I glanced around backstage. All the kids in the talent show had gathered to get ready. A girl tuned her cello. A girl in a tutu laced her pointe shoes. A boy juggled fruit. The green apple kept falling and rolling. Our group, in all black with the pop of bright color on our lips, looked the most grown-up and sleek.

First period had been cancelled. Through the thick velvet curtains I heard muffled voices, as the rest of the sixth graders filed into the auditorium. Backstage buzzed with nerves and excitement.

“Onyx? Is that your name?” Ms. Fairley adjusted her glasses and checked her clipboard.

“Yep, that's us,” Grace said proudly. “Do you get it? Onyx is a gemstone that's black.”

“And you're wearing all black,” Ms. Fairley said. “I
got it. All group members here?”

“All here,” Grace agreed.

I glanced at Roseann. She didn't look away, but she didn't smile either. She'd been nice enough since I'd arrived, just not overly so. She obviously hadn't told the others what had happened. If she had, I was sure Grace would've said something.

I couldn't figure out why she kept it a secret. I'd assumed she'd texted them as soon as Alex had dropped her and Chrissy home.

“Your group is up next for your photo.” Ms. Fairley pointed to a bearded man with a camera and tall lights in a far corner. “After the photo, it's your turn to perform. We need to stay on schedule.”

We nodded, and Ms. Fairley left to check in with the other talent show performers.

“I think we all look great.” Roseann straightened her black headband and smoothed her hair. “Don't you?”

“Totally,” Anna agreed. “Hands in?”

We reached our hands into the circle, the same way we'd done at field hockey.

“Wait a sec.” I cleared my throat and forced my voice to sound normal. “There's something I need to tell all of you.”

I explained that I wasn't going to the Olympics. I
told them that I'd been flattered they thought I was that good, but I wasn't, even though I desperately wished I was. I said I'd been terribly wrong not to correct them.

“I don't get it,” Miranda said. “Why would you say that in the first place?”

Like her, they were all more confused than angry. Roseann watched me. Her face didn't reveal her feelings.

“It's hard to explain,” I said. I thought about telling them that, technically, I hadn't been the one to say that I was going to the Olympics, but that hadn't gone over well with Roseann last night.

“Is any of it true?” Grace asked.

“Any what?”

“Anything about you,” she said skeptically.

“Everything else is. Totally! I promise.”

“Onyx!” Ms. Fairley called, saving me. “Photo time.”

As we popped our hands up together, I felt them all glance sideways at me. Probably wondering if I was really from Arizona or if I really was a gymnast.

Bob, the photographer, lined us up. Grace, Fiona, Anna, and Roseann kneeling in front. Miranda and me standing behind them. We waited silently for our picture to be taken. I stared at the back of Roseann's head. Would she let this pass? Would she ever laugh about it?

Her head didn't give me any answers. My stomach tightened with dread.
If only I could press a reset button and start again,
I thought.

“Girls, everyone's looking a bit stiff. Show me more natural smiles. How about on three we all say ‘cheese'?” Bob asked with an exaggerated grin.

“How about ‘meow'?” I joked back, needing to break the tension. “We look more like black cats than mice.”

“We're not saying that,” Grace whispered up at me.

“Just trying to get everyone to smile,” I said.

“Meow?” Bob offered.

No one but me meowed back.

“Okay, no takers for ‘meow.' How about ‘Onyx' on three?” Bob didn't wait for an answer this time. “One . . . two . . . three.”

“Onyx!” we all cried. I extended the
X
sound for a long time, giving my biggest smile. “We sound like snakes,” I quipped, suddenly nervous around these girls.

“Be serious,” Grace said to me. “Can we take another?” she asked Bob.

“Let's try that again.” Bob raised his camera. “Give me a happy thought.”

Roseann whirled around. “Don't be silly, Molly.”

“One . . . two . . .” Bob began the count.

“What's wrong with being silly?” I asked.

“Let's just take the photo,” Fiona said.

Several kids grouped behind Bob, watching us. Impulsively, I put two fingers up on both my hands and gave Anna and Grace bunny ears.

“Darling!” Bob called. “I see that. Hands down.”

“Seriously, Molly,” Grace muttered as the kids behind Bob giggled. “This photo is going on the wall.”

“Ready?” Bob said.

The girls all posed with one hand on their hips. I puffed out my cheeks and crossed my eyes. The kids facing us laughed loudly this time. I didn't care that they were laughing at me. Laughter was better than the serious silence of the photo.

“Molly, stop it,” Roseann said tightly.

“Okay, okay,” I agreed. Suddenly I felt bad. I'd gotten carried away again. This wasn't the way to win Roseann back. I vowed to smile sweetly from now on and do nothing else. “I'm done. Let's do this.”

“One . . . two . . .” Bob started the count again. We all smiled and posed.

On three, a tiny girl in a dark green glittery leotard sailed into the picture.

“Photo bomb!” Shrimp cried, popping her smiling
face in between me and Miranda.

I cracked up.

I laughed so hard that I started my weird hiccup thing. Shrimp grabbed my hands, and we tumbled to the floor. Then she started to hiccup too!

“Hysterical!” I choked out, still hiccupping. “I love photo bombs.”

“Onyx, they're calling you onto the stage.” Ms. Fairley hurried over to us. “Now!”

I hiccupped loudly. Shrimp echoed me.

“You have to stop that,” Grace said.

I stood and hiccupped some more. “I can't. No one will notice.”

“Yes, they will,” Roseann insisted. She and Grace shared a nervous glance.

“Okay.” I hiccupped again. “So they will. Who cares? We're dancing and not singing, right?”

“Singing would be funny.” Shrimp hiccupped twice as loudly as I did, as she tried to sing “Happy Birthday.”

“I care,” Roseann said as the announcer called Onyx's name again. The audience had quieted, waiting for us to appear. Roseann's eyes darted nervously towards the stage. Then her gaze settled on me.

I took a deep breath and held it, willing away the hiccups. Once again, my silliness had upset Roseann.
I didn't want to keep upsetting her. I wished I could figure out the secret to making us click. Why was it so hard?

As another hiccup escaped, I clapped my hand over my mouth. “I can't stop.”

“I don't think you can go on with us,” Grace said.

I looked to Fiona. She nodded. Miranda and Anna examined the floor, not saying anything.

I should've found a way to get on that plane this morning,
I thought. I hadn't fixed anything with Roseann.

“That's fine,” Shrimp said suddenly. “Molly changed groups.”

“I did?” I turned to her.

“Yes,” Shrimp announced, not bothering to hide her hiccups. “You're with me.”

“Onyx!” Ms. Fairley said sternly. “Now or never?”

“Molly?” Roseann asked uncomfortably.

“Can you do the dance okay without me?” I hiccupped again.

“Yes,” Roseann said. “We can. But I don't want you to be upset—”

“Then I'm with Shrimp.” I wrapped my arm around her tiny shoulder.

Roseann nodded.

“So you two are together?” Ms. Fairley asked, after Onyx ran onstage and the familiar beat of their music started up.

“We are.” Shrimp slung her arm over my shoulder.

“Bob, I need you to snap a photo of these two,” Ms. Fairley called.

Bob jumped in front of us, camera ready. “One . . . two . . .”

On three, I gave Shrimp bunny ears, and she gave them to me. We both puffed out our cheeks and crossed our eyes.

“How about a more serious one, girls?” Bob asked.

“Nah,” Shrimp said. “Unless you want?”

“Never,” I said. “Hey, our hiccups went away.”

Together, from the wings, we watched Onyx dance. I nodded along, silently cheering as Miranda remembered all the moves and didn't knock into Grace. Roseann looked prettier than ever. Miranda had moved up, so they were all in one line. No one in the audience realized I was missing.

Or that I'd ever been part of their group at all.

“Thanks,” I said to Shrimp.

“For what?”

“For jumping in when I needed you.”

“Happy to help, sea kelp.”

Ms. Fairley tapped our shoulders. “Two acts, then you're on, girls.”

“What are we doing out there?” I asked Shrimp. Suddenly the stage looked large and the audience even larger.

“Tumbling. Don't worry, we'll figure it out.” She gazed at my black skirt, lipstick, and straight hair. “You're going to have to change, if we're going to flip.”

Shrimp's sparkly green leotard gave me an idea. “I have just the thing. Wait here!”

Racing to the far corner of backstage, I found my duffel bag tucked behind a trunk overflowing with sombreros, cowboy hats, jester caps, and other hats used for school shows. My weekend bag had been way too large to squeeze into my locker. I was already late when Mom dropped me off. Mrs. Murphy saw me struggling and told me to bring it to the talent show. Now I dug around inside.

Hiding behind a scuffed armoire and a screen with the silhouette of a city skyline painted on it, I pushed off my shoes and changed outfits. Then I pulled my hair into a ponytail. I ran back to Shrimp.

“That's the way, blue jay!” she called when she saw my lavender leotard with the rhinestone sunburst design. I'd packed it to wear with Eden to Daria's gym.

“Do you ever run out of those sayings?” I asked.

Shrimp shrugged. “I guess you'll have to hang out with me to find out.”

“They're setting up for you two now,” Ms. Fairley said as the curtain closed on Lyla playing a guitar and singing. Roseann and crew had left the stage earlier, to tons of applause. They stood together in the wings, watching Lyla. I caught Roseann's eye and gave her a smile. I wanted her to know that I wasn't upset.

Ms. Fairley placed her hand on my shoulder as four boys pulled mats onto the stage. She looked from Roseann to Shrimp to me. “Molly, is everything fine?”

I could see how she'd be confused.

“All good,” I said, “except I don't know what I'm supposed to do out there. Shrimp, I don't know the routine. I don't know the steps.”

“There are no steps. Follow the music.” Shrimp grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “We'll make it up together.”

“Girls, they're about to announce you.” Ms. Fairley's cell phone buzzed. She was using it to text with the guy doing the lighting and the announcing. “Wait! What's your group name?”

“We're the Olympic Tumblers,” Shrimp declared.

“What?” I cried.

“You wanted to be part of the Olympics, didn't you?” Shrimp shot me a mischievous grin. “That's how I heard it that day at the gym.”

“You heard?” I cringed. I thought I'd spied Shrimp's purple bow.

“If Coach hadn't dragged me away, I would've stood up for you. Sofia should chill out. I mean, obviously, it was a joke.”

“Well, it's not exactly how it started. The truth is—”

“You can tell me later, if you want.” Shrimp nodded to the rising curtain. “Are you ready?”

“So the Olympic Tumblers? That's who you are?” Ms. Fairley asked impatiently.

“That's who
we
are,” I agreed.

The opening notes of the Two Hearts song blared out as the announcer called, “Give it up for the Olympic Tumblers!”

Shrimp looked at me. “Ready?”

“Ready, Freddy!” I cried.

“Good one.” Shrimp nodded, and together we ran out. We turned a roundoff and launched into two back handsprings, side by side. I don't know how we both knew to do them, but we did.

We continued to tumble. Sometimes we did the same stunts at the same time. Sometimes she flipped
and I danced, and then I flipped and she danced. The beat of the music guided my body. Shrimp seemed to hear the music the same way I did. We moved together. We used moves we'd made up on her trampoline. High-flying split jumps. Full-body shimmies. Even that cool dance move she'd showed me through the fence.

A bunch of times, one of us would do a crazy shake or a ridiculous twist that would crack the other up. From different sides of the stage, we handspringed towards the middle. When our feet touched, we pretended to bump. We tumbled to the ground, clownlike. The audience laughed with us.

What an amazing sound!

Soon I forgot the entire sixth grade was watching. With the bright lights and the thumping music, I was mostly aware of Shrimp by my side. That wonderful sensation of flying through the air was back. I hadn't felt this free and easy since moving here. The minutes zoomed by, and when the song ended, I slid into a split and raised my arms. Shrimp did the same.

I want to do this again!
I thought. Could we convince Ms. Fairley to have them replay our music? We'd make up a completely different, but equally fabulous, routine.

I was so into my own happy thoughts that I didn't register the noise at first. Slowly, though, the audience's
clapping and cheering soaked in. The noise grew deafening.

I squinted into the lights, unsure I was seeing right. I turned to Shrimp.