Step It Up
To my bestie Holly Gates Russell
You are my rock
Love, Sherelle
Contents
1 Sibling Rivalry
2 The Queen of the Team
3 The Name Game
4 Monkey See, Monkey Do
5 Seeing Double
6 Let the Games Begin!
7 Roll with It
8 It’s a Jungle out There
9 Toni’s Test
10 Ready to Rough It
11 Camp Diva
12 Not-So-Happy Trails
13 Carried Away
14 A Bewitching Tale
15 Whooooo Goes There?
16 Bouncing Back
Glossary of Dance Terms
A Note on the Author
Also by Sheryl Berk
Chapter 1
Sibling Rivalry
Scarlett Borden rummaged through her dresser drawer searching for a pair of pink ballet tights for class. She was sure she’d seen them in there just yesterday. There were leg warmers, shorts, harem pants …
“Mom,” she called. “Did you take my pink mesh tights?”
Her mother poked her head into Scarlett’s room. She had a handful of student papers she was grading, and her reading glasses were perched on the tip of her nose.
“Honey, why would I take your tights?” she said and sighed. “Do I look like one of the Dance Divas to you?”
Scarlett had to chuckle. The image of her mom on a girls competitive dance team was pretty silly. She could just imagine her trying to do a grand jeté with bent knees across their kitchen!
“Um, guess not,” Scarlett answered. “No offense …”
“None taken,” her mother replied. “My feet hurt enough from standing in front of a classroom all day. I can’t imagine being en pointe!”
Scarlett continued searching in her dance bag. “I just can’t understand where they could have gone. I swear I had them when Gracie came in my room and asked me to help get her Monopoly game from the closet.”
Just then, a thought popped into Scarlett’s head: Where had Gracie been while she was climbing on a step stool to reach the top shelf of the hall closet?
“Excuse me, Mom,” Scarlett said. “I think I know who took my tights.”
She stormed into Gracie’s bedroom. Her little sister was sitting on the floor, surrounded by a pile of Barbie dolls. “Shhh!” Gracie held up a finger to her lips. “This is the final round of the Miss Beautiful Doll Pageant. It’s the interview.”
She waved a Barbie in the air and pretended to speak for her in a Southern twang. “Y’all should vote for me! If I’m crowned Miss Beautiful Doll, I will save all the trees and the oceans. Oh, and the pigs!” She held up her favorite plush pink pig, Petunia, the one she tucked into bed every night.
Scarlett shook her head. “I didn’t know pigs were endangered.”
“Hello? Do you know how many people eat pork chops and bacon?” Gracie replied. “I vow to save all the piggies of the world!”
Scarlett had just about enough of Gracie’s silly games. “I want my tights back,” she insisted and held out her palm. “Now.”
“I don’t have your tights, Scoot,” Gracie said. “What would I want with your dumb old tights anyway?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Scarlett caught a glimpse of one of Gracie’s dolls. She was wearing a makeshift pink strapless gown, dotted with red nail-polish polka dots. It looked vaguely familiar.
“Is that …?” she began, and reached for the doll.
“No!” Gracie scooped it up before she could get to it. She hid it behind her back.
“Gracie, let me see that doll’s dress,” Scarlett said, gritting her teeth.
“Nuh-uh!” Gracie insisted. “I worked really hard on that pageant gown. You can’t have it.”
Scarlett knew it was no use trying to wrestle it out of her hands. Gracie was quick—and slippery. She needed to be smart.
“Okay, whatever,” she said. “I don’t want your doll.”
“You don’t?” Gracie asked.
“Nope. I want Petunia!” She grabbed Gracie’s favorite stuffed animal and held it high in the air. “Hand over the Barbie or Petunia takes a swim in the toilet bowl.”
“You wouldn’t!” Gracie howled. “I’ll tell!”
“Tell all you want. She’ll be soaking wet and flushed by then.”
“Mommy!” Gracie yelled.
Scarlett walked toward the doorway. “I hope Petunia knows how to piggy paddle …”
“Okay! Okay!” Gracie finally gave in. “You can have the doll. Just give me back my pig.”
They swapped, and Scarlett took a close look at the doll’s dress. It was pink mesh—just like her tights. “Gracie, how could you?” Scarlett gasped. “You cut up my tights?”
Gracie nibbled her nails. “I needed something pretty for the evening-gown round,” she said. “You can have ’em back.” She handed Scarlett the tights she had hidden under her bed. One foot was missing.
“What am I supposed to do with those now? I can’t wear that to class with Miss Toni!”
Scarlett’s dance teacher freaked if she had a single snag in her tights. She couldn’t imagine what she’d think of a pair missing an entire foot.
“You are so buying me a new pair!” Scarlett shouted.
“I don’t have any money!”
“What about your piggy bank?” Scarlett asked. “Gram always fills it with spare change when she comes to visit.”
Gracie stamped her feet. “That’s my money. I’m saving up for a Barbie Beach Cruiser.”
This time it was Scarlett’s turn to tattle. “Mom!” she called downstairs. “Gracie ruined my ballet tights!”
“Work it out, girls,” their mother shouted from her home office. She was up to her ears in papers that needed to be graded.
“You’re too old to be playing with Barbies!” Scarlett shouted at her sister. “Dolls are for babies.”
“I’m not a baby!” Gracie yelled.
“You’re a baby … and a tights thief,” Scarlett fired back.
“Oh yeah? Well, you don’t even know what I did with your red leotard!”
Scarlett gasped. “My red leotard? The one I wore for the ‘Gotta Have Heart’ number at Rising Stars?” She remembered it well: it was a beautiful crimson velvet with gold studs around the neckline. She’d taken first place in the Junior Solo category when she wore it. “You’d better not have put my leotard on some stupid Barbie!”
Gracie smiled. “I didn’t put it on a Barbie.” She pointed to the corner of her room where she had staged a procession of dolls walking on a red carpet.
“You cut up my leotard to make a red carpet?” Scarlett fumed. “Gracie, this is the last straw!” She began chasing her little sister around the room. Gracie screamed.
“Okay, that’s enough!” Their mother appeared in the doorway to referee. “You girls have got to learn to stop fighting!”
She turned to Gracie. “You will pay your sister back for her tights and leotard out of your allowance,” she said sternly. “As long as it takes you to do so.”
“And you,” she said, facing Scarlett, “will stop picking on Gracie.”
Both girls pouted.
“Now if you don’t mind, I have papers to grade.” She looked at her watch. “And Scarlett, you have fifteen minutes to get to ballet class.”
“Without tights?” Scarlett sighed. “Miss Toni is going to kill me!”
Chapter 2
The Queen of the Team
Scarlett made it to ballet class just seconds before her teacher shut the door of studio 3.
“Sorry, Miss Toni,” she said, panting. She silently prayed Miss Toni wouldn’t notice that her tights were “mocha” and not “theater pink.”
Scarlett took her place at the barre next to Anya, Rochelle, Bria, and Liberty. Rochelle shot her a concerned look.
“Don’t ask,” Scarlett whispered. “Hurricane Gracie turned my tights and leotard into a Project Runway episode.”
Rochelle laughed. “I know it’s not funny … but it’s kinda funny.”
“We’re just lucky she’s not old enough to be in pointe class with us,” Anya said.
Tell me about it, Scarlett thought. It was hard enough having a pesky little sister at home. But Gracie was also an official member of the Dance Divas Elite Competition Team, and that meant that every day, at every rehearsal for a competition, she was there to drive her crazy. Her only Gracie-free zone was the more advanced pointe class.
“Straighten that supporting knee!” Toni barked as Scarlett ran through the warm-up. “Tuck your butt in and stand up straight in that roll-up!” Scarlett glanced in the mirror: her arch did look less than spectacular. And she struggled to keep up with the combination. “Scarlett, are you on another planet today?” Toni said. “Those feet should be in fifth position!”
By the end of the class, Scarlett had fallen into sync with the others, but Toni was still eyeing her. “You’re all dismissed—except for Scarlett,” she said.
“Uh-oh,” Bria whispered. “That’s never a good thing.”
“Maybe she wants to talk to you about a solo at Dance Fusion?” Anya suggested. Scarlett had almost forgotten about their competition two weeks from Saturday. Toni had yet to tell any of them the details of what they’d be dancing—only that their rival team, City Feet, would be competing as well.
“Maybe she wants to kick your butt off the team?” Liberty smirked.
Scarlett gulped. Miss Toni had been pretty hard on her the entire class. Was she mad enough to ban her from the next competition? Or worse, from being a Diva? She was always threatening to replace anyone who didn’t “toe the line.”
“Miss Toni loves you,” Rochelle assured her. “You’re our best dancer!”
Liberty picked up her dance bag and tossed it over her shoulder. “You mean she used to be our best dancer. Now that title belongs to me.”
Rochelle bristled. “Says who? I don’t see anyone handing you a crown, Liberty. Unless your rich mommy, the big-time Hollywood choreographer, bought you one?”
Rochelle knew how much Liberty hated when people accused her of being successful because of her mom’s connections. The truth was, Liberty worked just as hard as any of the Divas. She had an attitude, but she could dance. Still, it was fun to push her buttons.
Scarlett put her hand on Rochelle’s shoulder. “Rock, that’s enough,” she said softly. She knew that Liberty loved to brag, but underneath it was a lot of hurt and insecurity—especially when it came to her mother.
Liberty stormed out of the studio. “You guys better go, too,” Scarlett said. “I’ll let you know how it goes.” She walked over to Miss Toni, who was busy jotting notes on her clipboard.
“You want to talk to me?” she said nervously.
“Yes, I do.” Toni didn’t bother to glance up from her work. “I assume your appearance and your performance today were a one-time scenario?”
“Yes! Absolutely! I’m so sorry! Gracie was just driving me nuts right before I got here. She gave her Barbie my tights and, oh my gosh, my leotard is now a red carpet …”
Toni put down her pen. “Are you and Gracie not getting along?”
“Well, she’s kind of a pain,” Scarlett tried to explain. “I mean, she just has no respect for me or my things.”
Toni nodded. “You know how I feel about fighting on my team,” she said firmly. “Anyone who can’t get along with her teammates cannot be a Diva.”
Scarlett held her breath. Here it comes, she thought. Liberty was right; she was kicking her off the team.
“That said,” Toni continued, “I think I have a solution.” She got up from her stool and went to the corner of the studio where she’d placed a small cardboard box. She carried it over and placed it at Scarlett’s feet.
“I think you and your little sister need something to remind you what it is to be loving and caring. Something you can do together.”
Scarlett had no idea what she was talking about, but she did notice that the box had several large, round holes punched out of its side.
“Go on,” Toni said. “Open it.”
Scarlett knelt down and lifted the lid. Inside was a ball of orange fur. “A kitten!” she exclaimed, scooping it into her arms. It was so small, she could practically fit it in the palm of her hand.
“My neighbor had a litter. I asked your mother, and she said you can have one—as long as you and Gracie promise to take good care of him.”
“Oh, I will! We will!” Scarlett said, stroking the tiny kitten. “He’s so sweet! Thank you, Miss Toni!”
“You’re welcome.” Toni almost smiled. “Just don’t ever come to my class again in mocha tights.”
Chapter 3
The Name Game
Scarlett couldn’t wait to get home and show the kitten to Gracie.
“Isn’t he precious?” she said, scratching him behind the ears.
“You girls have to think of a name for him,” her mother pointed out. “And you have to set up his bed and litter box.”
Scarlett nodded. “I think we should call him Baryshnikov—after the famous ballet dancer.”
Gracie made a gagging sound. “That’s a terrible name for a cute little kitty.” She snatched the cat from Scarlett’s hands. “We don’t like that name do we?” she asked the cat, cradling him in her arms. “I think we should name you Mr. Mustard.”
“Mustard?” Scarlett exclaimed. “You might as well name him Hot Dog! Or Ketchup!”
“Oooh, I like Kitty Ketchup for a name,” Gracie said. “But I think Mr. Mustard is perfect. He’s the color of mustard, don’t ya think?”
Scarlett looked to her mother for help. “You’re not going to let her name our cat after a condiment, are you?” she pleaded. “It’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard!”
“I am not stupid!” Gracie piped up. “Your Barfish-no-cough name is just as dumb. Cats can’t dance ballet!”
Their mother sighed and took the kitten from Gracie. “Look, if the two of you can’t get along and give this cat a loving home, I am giving the cat back to Miss Toni. End of argument.”
Scarlett looked at the tiny kitten. He looked so helpless. How could she let him go? “Fine.” She sighed. “We can call him Mr. Mustard—for now. Until we think of something better.”
“Yay!” Gracie squealed.
Her mother placed the cat back in Scarlett’s lap. “I think you’ve made a wise decision.”
Scarlett glared at her little sister. Why did Gracie always have to win? Just because she was younger didn’t give her the right to always get her way.
“Hello, Mr. Mustard,” Gracie cooed. “Who’s a pretty kitty?”
The next afternoon at the Dance Divas Studio, Gracie couldn’t wait to share the news of their new pet with her teammates. “And we named him Mr. Mustard!” she told Rochelle and Bria in the dressing room.
Rochelle shot Scarlett a look. “We named him that?”
“Please,” Scarlett grumped, “don’t get me started. I wanted to call him Baryshnikov or Joffrey or Balanchine. But my mom said we had to agree or we couldn’t keep him.”
Gracie skipped off to find Miss Toni and give her a report.
“It could be worse,” Bria said, trying to cheer her up. “She could have named him Grey Poupon.”
“It’s not funny.” Scarlett sighed. She had just about had it with Gracie acting spoiled and getting away with it. Even Miss Toni gave her special treatment.
When Gracie wobbled on a pirouette a few days ago and fell on the floor, Scarlett thought for sure T
oni would launch into a lecture about the importance of spotting and balance. Instead, she helped Gracie to her feet and suggested she picture her favorite gymnast, Gabby Douglas, standing in the front of the room. “Look right into Gabby’s eyes,” she told her. “Concentrate on that one spot.” It took Gracie about a dozen tries to get it right, and when she did, Miss Toni high-fived her.
“None of us get any sympathy if we fall on our butts,” Scarlett said. “Much less a high five. I don’t get it. Why is Gracie always the favorite?”
Rochelle shrugged. “ ’Cause she’s younger. The first time my baby brother, Dylan, pooped in his diaper, my mom and dad jumped for joy and told him he was a genius. All he did was poop!”
“Little kids always get more attention—that’s just how it is,” Bria added.
“You’re a little sister. I don’t see you behaving like that and driving your sister up the wall,” Scarlett pointed out.
“That’s because my sister is a genius—and I don’t mean at pooping.” Bria laughed. “I always feel like I have to compete with her. Maybe that’s how Gracie feels around you.”
Scarlett thought it over. That might have been the case a few months ago, when she was winning trophies for dance. But now they were both Divas, dancing on the same team, and Gracie was getting better by the day. It had been Scarlett’s idea to ask Miss Toni to let Gracie join the team—her tumbling was pretty awesome after all. Had she created a monster?
“What do you always tell me when Liberty is making me nuts?” Rochelle asked her.
Scarlett recalled the last time she had to seriously referee her teammates. Liberty decided that Rochelle’s jazz shoes “needed freshening.” So she put them outside on the windowsill during a torrential downpour. When Rochelle found them, they were a soggy mess and the soles were falling off.
“I think I told her she should mind her own shoe business?” Scarlett said. “And I believe I stopped you from sticking her head under the faucet as payback?”
Rochelle nodded. “I still say her face needed freshening … but I saw your point. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”