Almost Famous, a Talent Novel (19 page)

Mac smiled as though she’d been waiting for Emily to ask this very question the whole ride. “From now on, before you do anything, I want you to ask yourself, WWMSD? What would Meryl Streep do?”

“I don’t know what Meryl Streep would do,” Emily said, confused. Sometimes she thought Mac—like the rest of Bel-Air—was just crazy.

“She’d go to Pinkberry and study a real-life version of Spazmo!” Mac exclaimed. “Remember the Freakberry girl who showed up at Coco’s last weekend? Meryl Streep would take note of her mannerisms, her posture, her smile, everything. She’d study the original Spazmo like it was for a final exam,” Mac said triumphantly. “I want you to treat this play like it’s
The Hours
.” Mac smiled. “Now you go find that dorky delivery girl. It’s time to turn on your Spazmojo.”

Emily smiled as she climbed out of the car and closed the Prius door. She took a deep breath and walked into the green and white store. There, behind the crisp white counter, was the Freakasaurus delivery girl with the stringy dyed purple hair, her shoulders hunched nervously as she took people’s frozen yogurt orders
.
Emily watched her work, awkwardly greeting each customer as though she were about to be yelled at. When Emily got to the front of the line, a slow smile spread across the girl’s face.

“I’ve seen you before!” she squealed, waving her arms and knocking over all the cups in the process.

“I came by to say hi!” Emily said sweetly. “We should hang out.”

The Pinkberry girl bent down to pick up the cups, which she promptly dropped all over the floor again the second she put them on the counter. Emily smiled at the girl’s awkward mannerisms, realizing this was all material she could use as Spazmo.

Emily leaned over to help, intentionally knocking over more cups. The Freaskasaurus laughed at Emily’s “clumsiness,” but her laugh sounded more like one high-pitched scream. Emily laugh-yelled back. “You’re outta control!” Freakasaurus howled. Her back was bent like a hunchback, and she shook her head with her mouth wide open when she laughed.

“I know!” Emily gasped, matching her tone and posture. She bent forward over the counter, and she left her mouth a little open, as if it was easier than opening and closing it to talk and breathe.

Emily could feel the people in line behind her boring holes into her back with their eyes, waiting to get their fro-yos. But to her surprise, as embarrassing as it was to unleash her inner Spazmo, it was actually a little fun. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Mac and Erin, watching her from the other side of the store and laughing. For once, Erin wasn’t the freakiest person in the room.

And that was exactly the plan.

Coco hunched in the corner of the dance studio, scrubbing the golden-colored wood floors, while the girls practiced their routine. They were now wearing their costumes: starchy A-line dresses that made them look like umbrellas. A fun idea in theory, but really, who wanted to look like an umbrella?

As the girls barrel-turned, and Coco caught glimpses of their faces, she could tell that they were despondent. Coco knew that she could help save their performance if she could just get some alone time. It was painful, like watching someone walk around with toilet paper stuck to their pants. Just a quick tweak or two (or four) to the routine, and they’d be humiliation-free. She had tried to corner the Bam-Bams at school, but they traveled in a pack, and Haylie was always there, guarding them.

Coco put her hands on the floor and stretched out her back in child’s pose. She hadn’t known her arms (or her back, or her head, for that matter) could hurt so much from scrubbing. Then again, until becoming the water
boy
, Coco had never scrubbed anything. Her tracksuit was splotched in soapy water and chlorine, and her skin was dry.

Rihanna’s “Umbrella” blared, and Coco watched as the Bam-Bams moved through the motions like they were on cruise control. Each time Lucia and Maribel flew past Coco, she noticed how glum and not-smiley they were. When the music finally stopped, Coco looked at the Bam-Bams. They didn’t look like the adorable semi-professional team that prompted dance requests from the White House. They looked embarrassed.

“I really think we should cut out that last pirouette,” Maribel said.

“That’s a great idea,” Haylie snapped, “but unfortunately Ruby already approved the dance we have for ExtravaBAMSa. We can’t change it this late in the game.”

“It’s just that—” Maribel stammered.

“You do like performing, right?” Haylie cut her off.

A hush fell over the room as the team realized Haylie was threatening Maribel. But what could anyone say? Haylie was right. The dance had been approved. Only she could petition to change it at this point. And even though it wasn’t working, she didn’t seem inclined to try to fix it, since that would be tantamount to admitting her own incompetence.

“You’re right,” Maribel said, looking at her water bottle. She turned it upside down and stared glumly at the bottom.

If only she could show them how to defeat Haylie, Coco thought desperately. If only she could find a way to get them alone. And then she had an idea.

When the girls went back to rehearsing, Coco reached for her royal blue Sharpie pen and wrote on the label of each water bottle:
Meet under willow tree AFTER BELL! SECRET DANCE MTG. SHH (Super Hush Hush) Don’t tell Haylie!!

As she put the cap on her pen
,
she smiled at her own clever plotting.

This must be what it felt like to be Mac.

Three hours later, Coco waited under the willow tree hoping
someone
would show up. It suddenly occurred to her that she’d made a huge mistake. Of course the girls were tired of Haylie and her dance, but that didn’t mean they would actually take a secret dance team meeting without her.

Coco put her iPhone into her satchel, getting ready to leave. She looked up just as Maribel and Lucia arrived, with their navy hoodies pulled over their faces, bank robber style.

Then Anais showed up.

Then Taylor.

Soon the entire dance team minus Haylie was there, huddled around the tree, staring at Coco, who felt—even if it was for a few seconds—like she was captain again.

“Okay, listen.” Coco cleared her throat. “I’ve called you here because I see you guys dance every day. I know how great you can be.” She looked at the group nervously, hoping no one would take anything personally. “But you’re going to embarrass yourselves if you perform this dance.”

“Word!” Maribel agreed. “And I voted to do your dance ’cause I loved it.”

“Thanks,” Coco said calmly. “The problem is, I spent hours making it a good
solo
, not an
ensemble
.”

Taylor and Eden smiled for her to continue, and the rest of the group nodded.

“But it could be worthy of your talents,” Coco added. “It just needs a few tweaks so the audience knows where to look.”

The girls smiled. Clearly this was the first sensical thing they’d heard in a while.

“What you should be doing is just giving focus to one dancer during the first eight counts. Save the coordinated routines for the chorus,” Coco said. “And you . . .” Coco looked right into Eden’s icy blue eyes. “You’re underused. You should be leading the first solo. You’re doing spirals, but they don’t work so early in the song. It would be way cooler to throw in some fan kicks in the beginning so you’re connecting with the audience. Besides, you can do those in your sleep.” Coco snapped her fingers. Eden smiled, as though she had longed for someone to acknowledge that. “We should start with you for a quick energy shot.”

Coco looked at the rest of the team, their eyes still focused on her. “There are a lot of barrel turns right now—but that doesn’t mean you
all
have to be doing barrel turns.” She pointed to Maribel and Lucia. “It’s a waste to hide you behind all these tall girls. You two need to be in the center. And
Taylor
.” Coco looked right at Taylor White. “You just need to show us that beautiful smile of yours.” Coco went through every girl in the group, until the entire team knew exactly what they had to do to step up their routine.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Coco said, reaching into her giant zebra-striped bag. “You can’t go out dressed like umbrellas.” She handed the girls tiny silver shorts with shimmery pale leotards. In the light, they sparkled like rainwater.

Anais gasped. “It’s exactly what I envisioned us wearing!” she said as she took the new costume.

“They’re perfect,” Taylor cried, turning the shorts over like a Christmas present.

“Don’t tell Haylie,” Coco whispered. “Or she’ll go bananas.”

“Coco.” Maribel looked up at Coco with her big eyes. “I’m so sorry about you being water boy. We’ve all talked about how this blows. It just seems like there’s nothing we can do. Ruby won’t allow us to change the dance. And Haylie threatened to drop our blooper reel on the intranet—
and
show it at ExtravaBAMSa, in lieu of our performance—if we do anything against her.”

Everyone knew that the Bam-Bams kept a super-secret reel of moves from the girls’ auditions, usually showcasing sillier moves and mistakes. Generally it was a way to laugh at how far everyone had come. But no one besides the dance team was supposed to see it.

Coco flinched at the idea that Haylie had threatened to make their audition tapes public. This was more than just power going to her head—this was full-on treachery. Coco couldn’t believe how much she’d underestimated Ruby and Haylie’s ruthlessness.

Maribel was still talking animatedly, excited to get this off her chest. “And I can’t deal with that before ExtravaBAMSa,” She pointed to her twin sister, Lucia. “We have relatives flying in from Chicago to see us perform.” Lucia nodded solemnly.

“I wish you were captain,” Taylor said wistfully.

“It’s such a bummer you’re the water boy,” Anais said, looking at Coco sadly.

“I wish you could do this dance with us,” said Eden.

“I know!” Taylor cried.

Coco smiled. “Actually, there is a way. I’ll do the new dance with you. We’ll leave Haylie onstage, doing her own dance. She’ll look stupid in her costume, and she’ll have to get out of the way for us.”

Maribel blinked, twice, and exchanged glances with Lucia. Taylor, Ames, and Eden smiled like spies who’d just been given a top-level mission.

“Sounds like a plan!” Maribel said, speaking for the group.

“Well, I’m just so happy to help you all,” Coco said, trying to hide how relieved she felt to know that her captainship had not been a one-day joke. “We can practice our routine here next week,” she said casually, buzzing with excitement over this new plan.

Coco looked into the sea of faces staring at her respectfully and understood why her mother had emphasized the respect of her peers so much. Earning it was the best feeling in the world. Next week couldn’t come fast enough.

Straddling her surfboard in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Becks closed her eyes and felt the last few rays of sunlight on her face. It was Magic Hour, right before sunset, which meant that the sun was starting to cast its shimmery pink glow over the ocean. Becks and Ellie had spent all afternoon surfing—if you could call it that. It was more like three hours of: yelling instructions at Ellie, one almost-standing-up moment, zero good conversation, and waaaaay too much shivering and not-surfing.

Becks realized an entire afternoon had gone by and she hadn’t surfed a single wave. She sighed. What a waste. It was like going to Coffee Bean and getting a water.

“All righty, Becks,” Ellie giggled as she straddled her board. She was wearing her black Roxy bikini. “Mama Ellie’s gonna do it this time.”

She paddled quickly, her skinny arms turning like wheels in a hamster cage. She got her feet on her board, but then, just as she began to stand up, she crumpled into the wave. Her board bounced back to the ocean, and Ellie bobbed after it, for what felt like the four hundredth time that day.

The only thing good about seeing Ellie mess up was that it meant that Becks’s plan was perfectly in action: Ellie was getting just comfortable enough that Becks would be able to embarrass her at Surffest.

“No worries—I’m gonna nail the next one!” Ellie chirped, totally unfazed by her string of failures.

Becks rolled her eyes and looked at her white stucco house in the distance. For the first time ever, she wished she were home instead of on her surfboard. She’d had no idea how cold it could get when you were just sitting in the middle of the ocean and not surfing. Her teeth were chattering.

“I saw that eye roll!” Ellie said teasingly. “Watch me,” she commanded. Then, like a windup toy, she paddled her stick-skinny, copper-tan arms in fast circles through the water. Just when Becks expected Ellie to fall, her black bikini popped above the crest. Ellie was standing up! And she was riding the wave all the way to shore!

Becks’s heart soared with surprise and pride. “Yeah, Ellie!” Becks screamed. “GO! GO! GO!” Becks watched Ellie ride the wave all the way to the shore before she hopped onto the sand. Ellie waved her arms and did a chicken dance like a football player who had just made a touchdown.

Becks felt a surge of nostalgia, remembering her own excitement the first time she stood up on her board, in Oahu, when she was four. A tiny part of her was jealous that Ellie got to have that thrill, which only happened once in lifetime.

It was unfortunate, because even though she didn’t want to, Becks was starting to like Ellie. She was
kind
of fun. And Becks had to give the girl credit: She was obsessed with getting better at surfing. All the times Becks had wanted to duck in early, Ellie had insisted they stay out until she got better in some way. Minus the Rubybot factor, Ellie was close to cool. Becks shrugged away those feelings and quickly paddled to catch a wave so that she could go talk to Ellie on the shore.