On Pointe (6 page)

“You mean matching astronaut costumes?” Bria asked.

“We are a team aren't we?” Anya asked. “I like that idea a lot, and I volunteer to help make them.”

“Maybe we can even put together a dance to perform for Olivier at the party,” Rochelle suggested.

Scarlett checked the calendar on her phone. “We have no
Nutcracker
rehearsal tomorrow night. So everybody come over to my place and we'll get sewing and dancing.”

Scarlett put a bag of popcorn into the microwave. “The girls are gonna be here any minute, Mom!” she called into the living room. “Are we ready?”

Her mother was busy fishing her sewing machine out of the closet. “I think so.”

Gracie was watching her favorite TV show,
Extreme Fast Food
, on the Travel Channel when Scarlett came in carrying a large bowl of hot buttered popcorn.

“Help yourself, Gracie.” She tried to make peace with her sister. “Do you want to be a Divanaut with us?”

Gracie shook her head. “Liberty and I are going as Martian twins,” she said. “Lady Gaga's costume designer is making us red, glittery alien outfits.”

Scarlett tried to sound enthusiastic. “Cool! You and Liberty are, uh, twins.” She looked at her mom and mouthed, “HELP!”

“Honey, I know you like Liberty,” her mom began, “but don't you think it would be nice to do something with
all
the girls on the team, not just her?”

Gracie got up and started walking toward her bedroom. “I wanna be a Martian,” she said, calling back. “Divanauts are dumb.”

Just then the doorbell rang. “Got it!” Scarlett said, racing to let her friends in. “Who's feeling spacey?” she asked as she opened the door.

“ME!” Anya, Rochelle, and Bria all shouted in unison. The girls set up camp on the couch.

“I found these cool USA flag patches at the craft store,” Bria said, opening her purse. “How awesome would these look on our space suits?”

“Love it!” Scarlett replied. “Bria, did you do the research?”

Bria pulled out a folder filled with photos of authentic astronaut uniforms and gear. “I think we should have white jumpsuits with silver pockets and a big zipper down the front,” she said.

“Let's make the jumpsuits short—like shorts we'd wear for a dance class,” Rochelle suggested. She had a pile of their old group costumes she found in the studio storage closet—white shorts and crop tops they'd worn for a “Going to the Chapel” wedding routine. “If we stitch them together and put on some trim and embellishments, I think it'll work.”

They all agreed and started sewing using Scarlett's mom's machine. After a few hours, they were done and tried them on for size.

Anya admired herself in the bathroom mirror. “These are great. I hope Miss Toni doesn't notice we did a little fashion makeover on our old costumes.”

Scarlett agreed. “We look the part. Now we need a fabulous dance routine to perform.”

Bria held up her phone. “I downloaded the perfect music.”

At the touch of a button, an eerie voice filled the room: “Space, the final frontier …” Then Frank Sinatra's version of “Fly Me to the Moon” started playing.

Rochelle covered her ears. “Oh, no, no, no! Not cool at all!” she said. “My grandma likes that song.”

Bria pouted. “I thought my
Star Trek
/Sinatra remix was very cool,” she insisted. “I don't suppose you have any better ideas?”

“How about Katy Perry's ‘E.T.'?” Rochelle
suggested. “No one's cooler than Katy, and it has a spacey vibe.”

Both Anya and Scarlett agreed.

“Fine.” Bria sniffed. “I'm outvoted. But I think you could have at least given Frank a chance!”

Scarlett knew that any party Liberty threw would be over-the-top—but this one was over-the-moon. When she and the rest of the Divas arrived, they were greeted by several servers dressed in various alien costumes. Liberty's mom, Jane, was dressed in a gold hooded jumpsuit with matching metallic eye shadow and lipstick.

“Hi, girls!” She waved. “Just call me J-3PO!”

Rochelle rolled her eyes. “Oh boy. This is gonna be interesting.”

“I like the dude with green skin and three eyes,” Bria remarked. “He kinda looks like my uncle Charles …”

A woman with pink hair and antennas offered Anya an appetizer. “Pig in a rocket?” she asked, waving the plate under her nose. Anya took a mini hot dog wrapped in a roll with a triangular hunk of cheese on top. “This is so Gracie,” she told Scarlett. “It's just too much!”

“Don't you mean
tutu
much?” Rochelle teased. “A little ballet humor.”

Scarlett looked around for Gracie. She insisted her mom drive her over early to help Liberty with all the last-minute details and Scarlett hadn't seen her since. She wasn't by the platter of star fruit and Mars red velvet cookies, nor was she playing the Saturn's ring toss game in the living room. At least the birthday boy was having a blast: Olivier was zapping “alien invaders” on the giant TV in Liberty's den.

“You know what's missing from this party?” Rochelle asked her friends.

“Darth Vader?” Bria replied, stuffing a flying saucer–shaped ice cream sandwich in her mouth.

“No, our humble hostess,” Rock replied. “I haven't seen Liberty anywhere.”

“Or Gracie,” Scarlett pointed out.

Just then, one of the four-armed, blue-skinned aliens summoned everyone. “Aliens and astronauts, may I call your attention to the formal dining room,” he said. Everyone filed in to see what was happening.

There, in the middle of the room, was a giant “moon rock”—craters and all.

“Awesome!” Olivier said, knocking on it. “This is so cool!”

“Stand back,” the alien announcer advised him. The room went dark as a laser light show began spinning on the ceiling. Then, in a flash of smoke, the moon rock cracked in half. Out came Gracie and Liberty—the Martian twins—in matching red sequin bodysuits and flowing red wigs. Katy Perry's “E.T.” boomed over the speakers.

“That's our song! They stole our song!” Rochelle exclaimed.

Liberty and Gracie did an amazing acrobatic duet filled with flips, spins, and tricks. The crowd applauded wildly.

“We can't do our dance now—we'll look like copycats,” Bria whispered to her teammates.

“All that work for nothing. You think it was a coincidence?” Rochelle asked Scarlett. “Or did Gracie eavesdrop and rat us out?”

Scarlett had to admit it was pretty fishy—and just like Liberty to put her little sis up to something so sneaky and underhanded.

“It doesn't matter,” she said and sighed. “Olivier is happy and that's what counts. It's not about our dance; it's about his party.”

Rochelle glanced over at Liberty, who was bowing and blowing kisses to the party guests. “Really? I think it's all about Liberty—as usual.”

With only two more weeks to practice before opening night, Mr. Minnelli was feeling the pressure to get everything in his ballet perfect. He mopped his brow with a white handkerchief and exclaimed things like, “
Quelle horreur!
” whenever the dancers forgot a step, bent their knees, or fell a beat behind the music.

All rehearsals now took place at the Paramus Playhouse on the massive stage. There was so much to remember, and so many little details to check: the lights, the sets, the Ferris wheel, not to mention that all of the dances had to go off without a hitch.

The “Russian Dance” from the Land of Sweets was one of the hardest to execute. It involved crazy acrobat leaps, flips, and stunts.

Marcus clapped his hands together. “Where are my Russians?” Three boys—Will, Ben, and Presley—appeared onstage.

“This is one of the most memorable dances of the entire production,” he said to them. “Let's hope it's for a good reason …”

The music pounded from the loudspeakers and the dancers rushed out onto the stage, leaping and flipping through the air.

“More energy!” Marcus shouted. “Those split jumps should be high enough to touch the sky!”

But the more Marcus barked, the more confused they got. Ben accidentally tumbled into Presley, who tripped Will just as he was about to do his cartwheel. They all landed in a heap on the stage.

“Tragic, tragic, tragic,” Mr. Minnelli moaned. “Can't anyone here do a decent flip without falling flat on his face?”

“Gracie can!” Liberty said, peeking out from
the wings. She gave her a little push. “She could do that dance in her sleep. She's an amazing gymnast.”

Gracie gulped. All eyes were staring at her. “I am?”

“Totally!” Liberty gave her another shove. “She can show you how it should be done.”

“You don't say?” Mr. Minnelli replied, raising an eyebrow. “Would you care to show us, Gracie?”

Gracie walked to stage right and waited for the music to start. She executed a perfect aerial cartwheel and then squatted on the floor with her arms crossed over her chest. She kicked her legs out to either side without a single wobble.

“
Spasibo!
” Mr. Minnelli cheered. “That's Russian for ‘thank you.' That, gentlemen, is what I want to see!”

Gracie beamed as the cast applauded.

“Great job,” Liberty whispered. “You are the best dancer here.”

“Really?” Gracie said. “You think I'm better than even you?”

Liberty gritted her teeth. “Well, I wouldn't go
that far …” Then she smiled sweetly. “But you're the star, Gracie. And as the star, you should get everything you want.”

“What do you mean?” Gracie asked.

Liberty noticed the crew working on the Land of Sweets backdrop. They were hard at work creating a mosaic out of multicolored candies that spelled out “Welcome to the Shore.”

“You see those candies over there?” She pointed to a mountain of gummy bears, lollipops, and jellybeans scattered on a table backstage.

“Yeah! Yum!” Gracie said, licking her lips. “There must be a gazillion of them.”

“Right, so you certainly help yourself to as many as you want,” Liberty said, egging her on.

Gracie's eyes grew wide. “I can? I mean, I can!” She marched over and scooped up a pile and began popping them in her mouth. There were so many different kinds for the taking.

“Hey, what are you doing?” one of the scenic designers asked her. “Drop those props right now! Those are property of
A New Jersey Nutcracker
!”

“And I'm the star of
A New Jersey Nutcracker
,” Gracie insisted, swiping another handful off the table. “So I can have them.”

Scarlett overheard the exchange and raced over. “Gracie! Give 'em back!” she pleaded.

“Nuh-uh,” her little sister replied, taking a bite out of a red licorice twist. “Liberty says I can have as much as I want.”