On Pointe (5 page)

“See! You're not saying anything because you know it's true,” Gracie said, pushing her plate away from her. “Can I be done, Mom? I have to go practice my tree-growing scene.”

“Homework first,” her mom warned her. “And I don't want you girls fighting over this. I'm very proud of you both.”

Scarlett shrugged. She didn't feel very proud of herself. So far, her routine consisted of pretending to “fall” around the stage and look graceful doing it. She was one of fifteen snowflakes—just a face in the crowd.

“This is her moment, Scarlett,” her mom said, clearing the plates. “You have to let her shine. It's only fair. You've had a lot of moments over the years. Now it's Gracie's turn.”

Scarlett knew that was true, but it still didn't make her feel any better.

When Scarlett got to Dance Divas Studio the next day, Anya was waiting for her in the dressing room and looked equally frustrated.

“Whiskers,” she told her friend. “I seriously have to wear whiskers! And there's like a gazillion other mice racing around onstage. In those ears and that furry gray suit, you can't tell one of us from the other.”

Scarlett peeled off her layers of coat, scarf, and sweater, and nodded. “I know. I feel the same way. But both my mom and Miss Toni keep saying to just make the most of it and do my best.”

Anya shook her head. “How am I supposed to do my best when I feel like I should have been given another part? I've had Sugar Plum dreams my whole life. Addison squashed them.”

“But there's nothing that says that dream is over.” Scarlett tried to sound optimistic. “There's always next year.”

“I can't even think about tomorrow, much less next year.” Anya sighed. “We rehearsed the battle scene yesterday, and I'm the first mouse to die. I have to lie on my back with my legs twitching while the others carry me off the stage. They might
as well list me in the program as ‘Dead Mouse Number One'!”

Scarlett giggled. “Okay, that is just a little funny, don't you think?”

“I see nothing amusing in mouse murder,” Anya replied. “And what's worse is that Rochelle is the one that kills me with her sword.”

As if on cue, Rochelle burst into the dressing room. “Straight through the heart!” she said, brandishing her umbrella like a sword. “Take that Mickey—you're going down!”

“I prefer Minnie, thank you,” Anya said. “And could you not enjoy it so much?”

“What am I supposed to do? Mope around because I didn't get a big part like Gracie or Addison?”

Anya nodded. “Moping works for me.”

“I can't be sad, especially when there's a huge chance of a snow day tomorrow. No school! No rehearsals!” Rochelle exclaimed.

“A snow day in early November?” Bria said, overhearing the conversation as she walked in.
“When's the last time that happened?” She searched on her computer and came up with one ten years ago in her school district. “It has to be a foot of snow for them to even consider it. And all they're predicting is some flurries.”

“Maybe you and Scarlett can do your snowflake dance for us and bring it on,” Rochelle teased.

“I've never heard of a snowflake dance,” Bria replied. “I think you mean a Native American rain dance.”

“What I think is that you all take things way too seriously,” Rochelle replied. “Look on the bright side: Gracie will probably freeze onstage like she always does, and they'll know better than to put a little kid in a big part next year.”

Scarlett, Bria, and Anya laughed alongside Rochelle.

But suddenly Rochelle noticed Gracie standing behind her. Gracie's cheeks were bright red, and she looked like she was about to cry.

“Gracie! I'm so sorry!” Rochelle apologized. “I didn't know you were standing there.”

“I am not going to freeze onstage,” Gracie said slowly, choking back tears. “I am going to be an amazing Clara. I'll show you!” Then she looked at Scarlett. “I thought you were happy for me.”

“Gracie! Wait!” Scarlett tried to run after her but it was no use. Gracie felt like they had all betrayed her.

“She's right,” Scarlett told the girls. “We aren't acting like teammates or friends. We're only feeling sorry for ourselves. We should be cheering Gracie on.”

When they got to class, Liberty and Gracie were already lined up and stretching in front of the mirrors. Scarlett tapped her sister on the shoulder. “Gracie, we're really sorry,” she whispered. “Please don't be upset!”

Gracie ignored her and stared straight ahead.

“Gracie told me what you all said,” Liberty defended her. “I think it's just dreadful and we don't wish to speak with you at this time.”

Rochelle couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Hold on a Sugar Plum second! Are you
actually being
nice
to Gracie? Since when are you nice to anyone?”

Liberty put her arm around Gracie. “Of course I'm being nice. What are friends for?” She smiled sweetly. “Right, bestie?” She escorted Gracie to a corner where they could stretch in private.

“Okay, that's weird,” Bria said, watching Liberty flex and point Gracie's toes for her on the floor.

“Very weird,” Rochelle added. “I smell a rat.”

Anya groaned. “I'm a mouse, not a rat.”

“I'm not talking about you,” Rochelle explained. “I mean Liberty. Why is she cozying up to Gracie all of a sudden?”

“Maybe she really does feel bad that we were mean about her getting Clara?” Scarlett suggested. “I mean, I feel bad.”

Rochelle shook her head. “No way. Liberty's got something up her sleeve, I can feel it.”

Just then, Miss Toni came into the room. She was shadowed by a small boy in a bright blue fedora. “You all know Olivier,” she said without glancing up from her clipboard. “He's going to
be taking some classes with us while he's doing
A New Jersey Nutcracker
.” She pointed to a spot on the floor and Olivier raced to fill it.

“I thought you live in Delaware,” Bria asked him. “Isn't it far for you to come to our studio every day?”

“I do live in Delaware, but I'm staying with my uncle Marcus while I do the show.” He began doing deep
pliés
.

Rochelle's mouth dropped. “What? Your uncle is Marcus Sanzobar? No wonder you got the lead.”

“Rock!” Scarlett hushed her. “That isn't nice.”

“No, it's not,” Rochelle replied. “It isn't nice to cast someone just because they're family! That's called nepotism. Google it on Bria's computer if you don't believe me.”

She was shouting and now had everyone's attention—even Miss Toni's.

“It's called talent,” her teacher said firmly. “Have you seen Olivier dance? He's far better than his uncle was as a teenager—and he's only seven years old.”

Olivier raised his hand. “I'll be eight soon.”

Toni walked over to Rochelle. “That is the last nasty comment I want to hear in this studio. Is that clear?”

Rochelle stared down at her feet. “Yeah.”

“We may not be competing as a dance team at the moment, but the cast of any show is a team as well,” Toni added. “You support each other and you applaud each other.”

Scarlett looked over at Gracie, who was still ignoring her. Miss Toni's scolding made her feel even worse for putting her little sister down.

Liberty raised her hand. “Miss Toni, I think we should have a birthday and ‘Welcome to the Divas' party for Olivier. I'd be happy to throw it at my house.”

“Yay! A party!” Gracie jumped up and down. “Can I come?”

“You can all come,” Liberty said, smiling. “The more, the merrier! We have a huge house, so we can invite the whole
Nutcracker
cast and crew.”

Rochelle was about to say something when
Scarlett gave her a light kick. “Remember what Toni said,” she whispered. “No more nasty comments.”

“I think that would be a lovely gesture,” Toni told Liberty. “Olivier, is it all right with you?”

The boy mulled it over. “Can we have hot dogs? And an ice cream cake with those chocolate crunchies in the middle?”

Liberty nodded. “Gracie and I will do all the planning and make sure it's absolutely perfect.”

Gracie hugged Liberty, and Scarlett sighed. The only thing she could do now was hope the party didn't turn out to be a perfect disaster.

Gracie insisted that the theme of Olivier's eighth birthday party be something that he loved.

“He's really into space and astronauts,” she informed Liberty. “He's been to the planetarium in New York City a gazillion times. And he loves freeze-dried astronaut ice cream.”

Liberty rubbed her temples. “I am not serving freeze-dried food at my par—I mean
Olivier's
party,” she said. “We'll have to come up with a better menu. But I'm okay with the outer space thing. It's kinda retro.”

“Can we make some invitations and put little gold star stickers on them?” Gracie suggested.

Again, Liberty shot her idea down. “Stickers? What are we, first graders?”

Gracie shook her head. “No, I'm in second grade!”

“What I mean is that we need to do something for Olivier that is more special. I'll call my mom's party planner and get back to you.”

The next day at Dance Divas Studio, Gracie was still not talking to any of her teammates except Liberty.

“I like your new leotard,” Anya said, complimenting Gracie. “What do you call that color? Robin's egg blue?”

Gracie ignored her and continued putting on her jazz shoes.

“My mom made me a strawberry-mango-banana smoothie,” Bria said. “Want some, Gracie?”

Again, nothing.

It was as if they were talking to a brick wall.

Liberty skipped into the dressing room, red envelopes in hand. “Here ya go,” she said,
distributing them. “RSVPs required.” She took Gracie's hand as they strolled out of the dressing room together.

Anya opened the envelope. Inside was a formal invitation printed in gold type:

3-2-1-BLASTOFF for
OLIVIER'S 8th BIRTHDAY!

WHEN:
Saturday, November 15, 3:00 p.m.

WHERE:
Chez Liberty,
1 Rattlesnake Road, Alpine, New Jersey

ATTIRE:
Space Chic!

Luncheon will be served

Rochelle read the invitation a second time. “Does anyone else find it fitting that Liberty lives on Rattlesnake Road? She's such a snake!”

“What's ‘space chic'?” Bria asked. “Do I have to dress like Chewbacca?”

Scarlett didn't know what to say or think.
On the one hand, it was very generous of Liberty to throw such an extravagant party for Olivier. On the other hand, she probably had other motives.

“I think we should go as the Divanauts,” she said.