My Seventh-Grade Life in Tights (13 page)

The girl with the headset shoved a piece of paper in each of our hands and walked offstage.

“So,” the announcer said, turning toward us. “Are you ready to take your show on the road?”

“Um, yeah. I guess,” Kassie said. “As long as we get to dance.”

“Well, don’t worry, young lady. You will. Because as a special prize, we’re sending each of you to your next competition. And it’s one we’re very proud to be a sponsor of for the very first time. Hosted by Davis County High School, home of the Blue Devils, your next stop on the dance train is—” He smiled, leaving us frozen as we hung on the edge, waiting for him to say the next words.

And then he did.

“The Heartland Dance Challenge in November!”

We all turned toward Kassie.

But she was already running off the stage.

W
e finally found Kassie hiding in the dressing room.

“Kass, what’s going on?” Carson said, poking the curtain door.

Austin cupped his mouth and shouted, “Yeah, was your mask on too tight? We won!”

I pulled his hand down. “It’s a curtain. You don’t have to yell.”

Carson spun around to face us. “What if she’s having girl issues? Maybe we should give her some space.”

“I’m pretty sure it has to do with what that announcer said, Carson.”

Austin cupped his mouth again. “Is it girl issues?”

Before I could say anything, Kassie ripped the door open, making us all jump. Her mask was off. The level of freak-out on her face was almost scary.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. She was staring at something behind me. I looked and saw her parents standing there. I jogged over to them.

“Is she all right?” her dad asked in his thick French accent. “She just ran off.”

“Yeah, she’s okay. We’re just, uh, having a crew meeting is all.” I didn’t wait for them to answer. I went back to the dressing room. Carson and Austin were already inside. I stepped inside and almost froze to death. The look Kassie was giving everyone was beyond frigid. She was standing at the back of the little room with her arms crossed.

“I still don’t get it. This is what you’ve been waiting for,” Carson said.

Kassie just shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“Made up your mind to do what?” I asked.

“The next contest. She said she ‘can’t’ do it,” Austin said, putting a pair of air quotes around the word
can’t.

This was bad. As soon as the announcer had mentioned the competition, the plan had formed in my head. A way to come out of this mess in one piece. “Why can’t you?”

“I just can’t, okay? You’re going to have to trust me, guys.” Kassie turned her head away.

“See?” Austin said, and sat down beside Carson.

“But this is too perfect!” I said. “Think about it, Kassie. Instead of me getting up onstage by myself and completely ruining Sarah’s life, we can all dance together.”

Austin jumped up. “Dude, yes! Kassie, you guys have to do this. It’s a way better plan, no offense.”

“Are you all just not listening?” Kassie’s arms fell to her sides. “I can’t get up on that stage and dance. Not this time. And I’m not trying to ruin Sarah’s life, Dillon.” The way my name flew out of her mouth made me take a step back.

“Wait a minute,” Carson said. “Are you saying you
can’t
dance, or are you saying you just don’t
want
to?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters. Kassie Gilbert doesn’t
want
to dance all of a sudden? I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Does this have to do with what Sarah did to you?” I asked.

Kassie’s head whipped around to me. Bingo.

“What’re you not telling us? Because Carson’s right, you not wanting to get up onstage and dance just sounds backward.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“Yes, you are, Kassie.”

Her eyes were red. Kassie might not want to hurt Sarah, but what she and Carson had planned for me definitely would.

“If you don’t want to go through with it, then fine,” she said. Carson’s mouth fell open like he was ready to object. “I’m serious. Just quit taking private lessons with Sarah and we’ll forget the whole thing. No plan. No speech. No hurting anyone.”

I caught a glimpse of Austin nodding furiously beside me. Kassie’s solution was perfect. It solved pretty much every problem I could think of.

Or
almost
every problem.

“Couldn’t we maybe forget the plan without me quitting the lessons?”

“I knew it!” Kassie yelled, jabbing a finger at me. “You
want
to get into Dance-Splosion!”

“No, I—it’s not like that, I swear!”

She leaned her head back on the wall, staring at the ceiling. “Then can I ask you one question?”

I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me since she was still looking up. “Yeah.”

“Do you actually want to go for that scholarship?” Kassie’s eyes floated down to me.

My heart rocked against my chest so hard I almost stumbled. I tried to take in a breath, but I couldn’t. It was like my body was turning against me. Carson and Austin were staring, waiting for an answer. I wanted to be honest with them. I just didn’t know what the honest answer actually
was.

“It’s complicated,” I said.

The skin on the front of Kassie’s neck darkened. “That’s another way to say yes.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You said the crew came first. Were you just lying?”

“I wasn’t lying, Kassie.”

“You said you didn’t want the scholarship, but you actually do. How is that
not lying,
Dillon?”

“Because I don’t know if I want it! All you and Carson have ever told me is how awful studios are. That dance is just expression. And now Sarah’s telling me all about rules and technique and stuff. What if a studio can help me? What if they could make me a real dancer?”

“You
are
a real dancer,” Carson said.

“No, I’m not. And every time I try to get you all to teach me some real moves, you won’t. I’m sick of looking like an idiot dancing with you guys.”

“Dude, you just won first place in a dance contest,” Austin said. “I kinda think that means your dancing’s good enough.”

“How would you know, Austin? You’re not even a dancer! All you do is turn the camera on and off!” My mouth mashed shut right after I’d said it. But it was too late. Ever since Austin started recording our practices, I’d tried extra hard to make him feel like he belonged. And I’d just ruined it in less than five seconds. “I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever, dude.” Austin grabbed his camera. “I’m out.” He stormed past the curtain door, ignoring Carson and Kassie begging him to stay.

When I turned back around, they were glaring at me like I was a stranger.

“I didn’t mean to yell. I just—need some time to think. I think.”

Kassie looked at me with a pair of red, teary eyes. It was like my heart opened up at the top and someone dumped in a bucket of hot coals. If I was having a heart attack, I didn’t care. All I could think about was how I’d hurt my team. How I’d hurt
her.

“I love the Dizzee Freekz. I swear. I want you to know that.” I took a step toward the exit. Slowly, waiting for her to say something.

All I got was a curtained room full of silence.

I grabbed the strip of fabric that pretended to be a door and realized I’d left my certificate on the bench behind me. Before I could decide whether or not to just leave it there, someone slid it into my hand.

“You forgot this,” Kassie said.

I turned. Her pinky was touching mine. I didn’t want to pull the certificate free and lose the tingly feeling racing up my arms. I would’ve stood there, eyes locked on our hands, forever. But I noticed she already had her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Later,” she said, and walked out. Carson went by and I could practically feel the angry steam about to start shooting out his ears.

I waited a while before I left. I couldn’t stand the thought of walking behind them, wondering if they were going to go home and FaceTime each other, talking about how disappointed they were in me.

Then I realized I was standing in what was technically a girls’ dressing room and decided I should probably be all paranoid somewhere else.

The only good thing about that next Monday was the fact they had chicken tenders at lunch. Those were my favorite. But after the first bite, I stopped eating. My stomach was too busy balling itself into a tiny lump. Especially after almost running into Kassie in the lunch line.

Thankfully, she didn’t see me.

Not that it made me feel any better.

But at least I wasn’t the only one who looked miserable. DeMarcus had his head propped up on one hand and was swirling a piece of chicken around in a puddle of honey mustard sauce with the other. The other players never noticed.

I cleared my throat, trying to get his attention, but he never looked up. I tried again and earned a fifty-pound elbow from Troy.

“If you’re sick, go sit somewhere else, Tighty Whitey. I don’t wanna catch your germs.”

I decided to take his advice. I wasn’t sick, but the last place I wanted to be was wedged between him and Bobby Fleagle. As soon as I stood up, Sarah and her Barbies dropped their trays on the table. Her face was stuck in an openmouthed smile. “You better be thanking me right now, Dillon.”

“Uh, you may want to sit down. We don’t want you fainting all over the table,” Red-Haired Barbie said.

So I did. “What am I thanking you for exactly?”

Sarah held her phone out to me. A text message.

Becky:
hey grl im not sposed to say nething yet but i heard ur boi made the cut!!!

My heart sped up so much it threatened to rip through the front of my shirt. I read the text a few more times, making sure I wasn’t missing something in all the abbreviations.

“What is it?” DeMarcus said, finally lifting his head.

All I could do was shake my head, not even able to believe what I was reading.

“Don’t get weird. You didn’t win,” Sarah said, and showed DeMarcus the message. “Some girl at the studio heard Dillon made it to the top three.”

“Congrats, man,” DeMarcus mumbled.

I told him thanks, but my body was refusing to be happy about it. The idea of winning was awesome. Only when it stayed an idea, though. Because an idea was harmless. An idea wasn’t going to tear me away from my best friends.

But the idea had just become a real possibility.

I sat there gripping the edge of the table so hard my knuckles ached. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Excuse me?” Sarah said.

“I said, um—” I tried to swallow, but my mouth had turned into a desert. “I can’t believe this is happening.” My eyes darted over to DeMarcus. He was staring at me like he knew what I’d really said.

Apparently Sarah didn’t, though. “Well, it is. And you’re welcome. Now, the finalist auditions are in three weeks, so we need to get your routine as flawless as—” She snapped her fingers in front of my face, making me flinch. “Dillon, pay attention.”

“Yeah, what’s your problem?” Black-Haired Barbie said. “Why are you acting all pouty?”

“I’m not. I just don’t want to hurt anyone is all.”

“How would you hurt someone? You’re going to be dancing in front of the judges, not doing brain surgery on them.”

“I just don’t want to make my friends hate me.”

Troy reached over and messed up my hair with his hand. “Aww, I didn’t know Tighty Whitey was such a sensitive little guy!”

I tried to squirm away, but Bobby kept pushing me back over to him, laughing.

“Will you two stop?” Sarah hissed. “Every time you lift your arms I feel like I want to puke.”

Troy and Bobby sniffed their armpits and looked at each other, shrugging.

“We’ve already talked about this, Dillon. You have to do what it takes to win. And if they never talk to you again—” She shook her head and pushed her tray away. “Then maybe they were never your friends to begin with.”

Weird hearing that coming from the girl who’d practically admitted to stepping all over her friends. But even weirder was how much sense it made.