Bring It On (6 page)

“Oh, yeah!” everyone yelled, Devane just as loud as the loudest.

“All right.” Gina backed up and studied the group. “Ill papi, I want you up here on the right. Ky, you up here on the left. Chloe and M.J., middle center. And actually, Emerson, let's put you on the other side of M.J.”

Devane's stomach started pumping out sour juice as she waited to hear her name. The front row and the center row were filling up. Finally Gina looked over in her direction. “Devane, you're just about perfect where you are. Just move one foot to the left.”

One foot to the left. That put her in the left-hand corner of the back row. She might as well be performing in the studio when everyone else was at Disney World. No one was going to see her anyway.

You're in charge. You're the one who makes things happen,
Devane told herself.
You're on schedule this far. You're in the Performance Group. You'll find a way to work it.

Gina studied the group, moved a few people around. “Looks good. All right, we're going to start out in a wide-leg squat. Then we look left. Back to center. And shoulder rolls.” Gina slowly did the moves as she called them out. Once she'd walked them through a short sequence a few times, she put on a Kanye West track.

“And five, six, seven, eight,” Gina counted out. “Look left. Back. Monkey arms. Monkey arms. Slide right. Cross back. Devane, no shoulder pop on the cross. Max, the cross starts with the right foot. Right arm up, right arm out. Left arm up, left arm out. Now get ready for the flare. And drop. And swing. Devane! Legs apart. Not crossed.”

Devane nodded, trying to keep her expression calm. But the cross-legged flare—that was one of her perfection moves. And the shoulder pop on that cross—it made the whole move stand out. Was Devane supposed to hold herself back just because the rest of the group couldn't keep up?

It's not my fault they don't have my skills,
Devane thought.
I'm not going to dumb myself down. I'm not going to be wallpaper.

“I never would have imagined your sister dancing in front of an audience. And now that teacher of hers said on the phone she'll be performing at schools and malls and all over the place.”

“It's not as if Sophie's exactly shy, Dad,” Sammi told her father as he pulled the cab up in front of the Hip Hop Kidz dance studio. “She pretty much always says what she thinks. And she likes to joke around and everything.”

Her father smiled. “True. For a while, when she was little, she wouldn't even let me get through the door without hearing a joke. ‘Dad, what's the sound of someone laughing their head off?' ‘Dad, why is six afraid of seven?'”

“I think it's so cool she's into hip-hop. She can be a star at school dances. And like you're always saying, it's good exercise, and—” Sammi's mouth dropped open a little.
And it's obviously a great way to meet hotties,
she silently added as she spotted her sister coming out the door with one of the—if not
the
—best-looking guys Sammi had ever seen. He had longish, dark brown hair and a great smile that turned on a dimple in one cheek. Sweet.

Sammi opened the door of the cab so Sophie could climb in. She had to get the scoop on the cutie. “So how was your first class? Did you make any new
friends
?” she asked, laying on the word
friends
so Sammi would know she'd seen her with the boy and spill.

“I got to class almost exactly when it started, so I didn't have much time to talk to people,” Sophie answered. She slammed the door, and their dad pulled out onto the street. “But Emerson and Ky, these kids from my other class, got in the group, too, so that will make it extra fun. And guess what? You won't ever guess, but guess anyway.”

“Ha, ha, ha,
plop
,” their dad said.

“What?” Sammi and Sophie asked together.

“The sound of someone laughing their head off. Remember that one, Sophie?” their father asked.

“Yeah. That was a good one, Dad,” Sophie told him. “But you're supposed to be trying to guess my news.”

“Who was that you were walking out with? Is he in the Performance Group?” Sammi asked, because obviously she had to be more direct. Sophie hadn't picked up on the “friends” question.

“His name's ill papi. And yep, he's in the group. So, guesses? I'm waiting to hear guesses,” Sophie prodded.

“His name can't be ill papi. Ill papi isn't a name,” her dad said.

“Okay, forget it. I'm telling. The group gets to perform at Disney World next month! Disney. World. How out in the cosmos is that?” Sophie gave a little bounce in her seat.

“That's great! Are we invited?” their father asked.

“Yeah, do we get to go?” Sammi asked, a picture of her and ill papi watching the fireworks together popping into her head, even though she'd never even said hi to the guy.

“I don't know yet,” Sophie told them. “But we started working on the number we're going to do. Gina, the teacher, came up with some slammin' choreography.”

“Are people in the group from schools all over the place? Like that guy ill papi—what school does he go to?” Sammi asked.

“I don't know. We didn't get into it.” She turned and looked at Sammi for a long moment.

“What?” Sammi asked.

Sophie shrugged. “Nothing.”

Sammi gave her little sister's arm a squeeze. “So what were you guys talking about, then? You definitely made him laugh somehow, Soph.”

Sophie shrugged again. “Who knows? I'm always making people laugh, right? I just open my mouth, and it's ha, ha, ha, plop.”

Their father laughed.

“See?” Sophie said.

“It's true. Everyone thinks you're funny,” Sammi agreed.

“Funny, and now a Hip Hop Kid.” Sophie pulled her gym bag tighter against her body.

“Yeah, Dad and I were just saying how great that is before you got in the car. And that was before we even knew about the Disney Word thing,” Sammi said.
Or about the fact that you're hangin' with a guy I'd kill to get close to,
she thought.

Sophie tossed her gym bag on her bed. Disney World! She was going to perform at Disney World! “Hey, Sammi, can I borrow your Kanye West CD?” she called. She couldn't wait to try out the moves from class again.

“Yeah, come on in. It's on my dresser . . . someplace,” Sammi answered from her bedroom across the hall.

“Thanks,” Sophie said as she rushed into her sister's room and over to the dresser. She started rooting around, trying not to look at the cheerleading awards, and honor student certificates, and choir programs, and, and,
and
tucked into the frame around Sammi's mirror. She hated feeling jealous of Sammi. It made her feel like a big ol' troll. But sometimes when she looked at that mirror, she did.

“Here it is.” Sophie pulled a CD free from the pile on the dresser. “We're using one of the tracks for our number, and I want to practice.” She grinned. “Actually, I love the moves so much I just can't wait to do them again.”

“So does ill papi dig Kanye?” Sammi asked.

Ill papi.
Again.

“Here's what I know about ill papi,” Sophie said. “His name is ill papi. He's in the Hip Hop Kidz Performance Group. And, um, his name is ill papi.” She flipped the plastic CD case open and shut a few times. “Why do you want to know?”

The question came out with an edge. Yikes. Sophie quickly tried to cover. “You can't want to know because he's so incredibly smokin' hot, can you? You're not that shallow, are you?” she teased, tickling Sammi under the ribs on the right side, the place that always made her go into giggle spasms, no matter how mad she was. And she wasn't even mad this time. “Admit it,” Sophie insisted as tears started running down her sister's face. “You must admit it.”

“I admit it. I want to know because he's cute. I'm that shallow,” Sammi answered breathlessly.

“You and every girl at the studio,” Sophie said, stopping the tickle torture. “But I've told you all I know. Really.” She started for the door. “Thanks for the CD,” she said over her shoulder.

“Can I watch you practice?” Sammi asked.

Sophie tried to remember if Sammi had ever asked her something like that before. Sophie had always wanted to watch Sammi do stuff in that little-sister way. She'd wanted to watch Sammi get ready for cheerleading tryouts. Or put on makeup. Or just sing scales. But Sammi had never wanted to see Sophie do anything.

Anything like what?
Sophie thought.
Did you expect her to sit next to you and watch you play Xbox?
Xbox had been pretty much Sophie's only extracurricular activity before Hip Hop Kidz.

“Sure. Let's go in the living room. There's more space,” she told Sammi.

“I'll bring my CD player,” Sammi said.

Sophie shoved the coffee table to one side, and Sammi got the CD player plugged in and the CD in place. “Anything else you need?”

“Nope. Just hit track three,” Sophie told her. A second later the music began to thump into the room, into her body.
Look left, back, monkey arms, monkey arms,
she silently coached herself as she started the section of the routine they'd learned that day.

Sammi gave up some hand-bruising applause when Sophie finished. “You could be in a Black Eyed Peas video. You rock, Soph!”

“I could teach you some steps if you want,” Sophie told her. How wild would that be? Her teaching
Sammi
something?

“I've got an even better idea,” Sammi said, her dark eyes all glittery. “Can you sign up for classes at Hip Hop Kidz anytime? Or are there sessions that you have to wait and sign up for?”

Sophie felt like she'd just chugged a gallon of cold water. Her body felt chilled from the inside out. “Anytime, I think,” she answered, trying to sound casual.

“I'm gonna ask Mom and Dad if I can take some classes there!” Sammi exclaimed. “My cheerleading camp is almost over. And some hip-hop moves would be great to work into some of the cheerleading routines I'll have to come up with when school starts, don't you think?”

No!
Sophie wanted to shout.
No,
mhai, nein,
nope. No way, Jose, even.

But that would not be . . . nice. And their mother wasn't the only one who thought niceness was important.

“Yeah, hip-hop is great in cheerleading. Some of the squads you were competing against last year used some locking and popping, even some breaking, and got woohoos from the crowd,” Sophie said.

“I'm gonna go ask Dad if I can sign up for classes right away. I'm sure he'll say yes.” Sammi trotted out of the room.

Sophie thought their father would say yes, too. But she wished he wouldn't.

For Sammi, Hip Hop Kidz was just one more thing. For Sophie, it was everything.

Was it so un-nice to want it all to herself?

“Eee-ooo! Eee-ooo! Eee-ooo!” Tamal shook Devane by the shoulders. “Look out. It's the fashion police. They're coming for you.”

“Tamal! You made me cut this wrong! Go sit as far away from me as possible,” Devane ordered, dropping the scissors.

“I'll get the tape measure,” he answered. “I think the farthest away from you right now might be your bed, and you don't let me in your half of our room.”

“Just go watch TV,” she told him.

“You go watch TV. Go watch one of those shows where they tell you what to wear.”

Devane sucked in a deep breath. It had been a hell day. She'd thought a couple of coats of her Cha-Ching Cherry, the polish she usually saved for extreme special occasions, would cheer her up. But even with her nails the fabulous deep pink, she still felt as low as she had when she left class this afternoon. Gina had pulled her aside right before she got to the door and reminded her that the Performance Group was all about teamwork, and when Devane tried to draw attention to herself by changing the choreography, she wasn't being a team player.