My Seventh-Grade Life in Tights (21 page)

I
t reminded me of a zombie movie.

The parking lot was completely filled. People had pulled onto the grass, stopping their SUVs and expensive cars all catty-cornered. The ones who had already gotten out of their vehicles were flooding into the high school like it was the one place the undead couldn’t break into.

When we got inside, the hallway was packed with dancers of all ages and sizes. Parents with matching shirts, some with jackets with studio names on them. And everyone talking, laughing, taking up every bit of noise-space and not leaving any for me to even hear myself think.

“Darn it!” Dad said, making me jump. “We should’ve made a poster.” He nodded at a group of adults, each one with a homemade sign completely decorated with glitter and blown-up pictures of a dancer’s face.

My parents were pros at humiliating me at my football games with nothing but a wave and a phone. Giving them a poster would’ve been a guaranteed disaster.

I looked around for Kassie and Carson even though I knew they wouldn’t be there. Plus the place was wall-to-wall spandex and duffel bags. No way I was gonna see any more than a few feet around me. Luckily, there were signs posted telling us where to go.

The crowd inched forward toward one of four desks, each handling one section of the alphabet, signing up competitors and handing out half sheets of paper with big numbers printed on them. I poked my head through the crowd, searching for the
P–S
table, but I was blocked by a wall of neon orange tracksuits.

“Chuck, don’t be afraid to get a little pushy. Everyone else is doing it,” Mom said with her hand on Dad’s back, urging him forward.

“I’m not going to barrel through the crowd, Carol. I could step on a kid or something.”

I couldn’t see my mom’s face, but I could feel her eyes roll. She took a deep breath and nudged me to the left, weaving me through a group of dancers.

“Hi there. Last name?” the girl at the table asked. She was pretty. Her eyes were the same color as Kassie’s. Except Kassie’s were a little more hazelly. And Kassie also had longer eyelashes. And better eyebrows—

Stop it!
I forced my thoughts back in the right direction. I couldn’t get distracted. Not now. It was time to focus.

“P-Parker?” My voice was shaking. Like I was in the middle of a snowstorm without a jacket.

She thumbed through a small tub of folders and pulled one out. “Here we go. Dillon Parker?”

I nodded. Mom grabbed my shoulder, making me jump. “Ooh, this is so exciting!” she said.

The almost-as-pretty-as-Kassie girl glanced inside the folder and handed it to me. “Okay, Dillon, here you go. Just follow the signs back to the dressing rooms. You’ll see one marked for Dance-Splosion.”

Mom immediately dove into the information inside the folder. “Sweetie, look! You have your own number!” She held up a sticker about the size of a phone.

019.

My stomach quaked. Surely that didn’t mean I was the nineteenth one to dance. “Is there a schedule in there?”

Mom looked through the papers. “Right here.”

I tore it out of her hands and read it. Nothing about the scholarship, but solos were up first. I planted my hands on my knees and tried to breathe like I wasn’t about to pass out.

“Dillon, what’s wrong?” Mom asked, rubbing my back.

“Uh, just nervous.”

“You’re ready for this. I know you are.”

I stood back up. My head went a little woozy, but that only lasted for a second.

“Good luck, kiddo,” Dad said. “We’re going to go find a good seat.”

Mom stuffed my tag into my shirt. “If you need anything, just text us. You have your phone?”

I held my duffel bag up. My hands were shaking. Not just trembling. I’m talking earthquake in my arms. If I had been holding a can of soda right then, the entire thing would’ve turned to fizz and spewed out the top.

“Don’t be nervous. You’re going to do great.” Dad patted me on the back and Mom followed it up with a hug. I told them thanks, keeping it short so I wouldn’t have to hear how bad my voice was trembling.

I opened the door to the dressing room. It was actually a small classroom with a tall black screen at the back, probably where we could get changed. Standing near the door was a guy wearing a yellow shirt that had
VOLUNTEER
printed on it.

Several dancers were grouped together, scattered around the room. Most were just talking. A few were walking through their routines. I looked around for Sarah, but didn’t see her.

Kenton and Avery were tucked in the back. I walked over to join them, keeping my mouth shut and my game face on. I sat in the floor across the room from Avery and began stretching my hamstrings. Since I’d been practicing with Sarah I’d become pretty limber. Not split-worthy or anything, but at least now I could touch my nose to my knees without feeling like the backs of my legs were going to rip in half.

I unzipped my bag and pulled out my new tights, folding them into a small square beside me. I wanted them to see what I’d brought. That I meant business.

“No football pants?” Kenton said with a smirk.

I shook my head. “Not today.” No smile. I wasn’t about to tell him I still had my football tights in my duffel bag.

“They look brand-new,” Avery said.

I kicked the compliment away, meeting her smile with a quick nod. I hated to do that, but I couldn’t let the other two get in my head. This was war. Plus it was hard for me to look at her, remembering what had happened last time she danced.

Kenton’s eyes landed on Avery and her leggings. He looked like he was about to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he just laughed. She had on the same ones that had made her fall during the audition. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw a few safety pins holding one of them together. She saw me staring and quickly pulled her foot toward her.

I forced my eyes ahead. Away from Kenton. Away from Avery and her torn legging. I was there to win. Even if it meant stepping on a few pointed toes.

I ran through the routine Sarah had taught me. The kickless, punchless routine. I couldn’t stand it. Not because I hadn’t come up with the moves, but because the steps weren’t made for me. They were like a pair of football cleats ten sizes too big. And I had to wear them on the most important game of my life.

On the third mental run-through, a muffled roar poured into the room. Cheers. Applause. Screams.

The competition had started.

I
stood at the edge of the stage behind a huge black curtain with a few other dancers.

Almost every seat in the auditorium was filled. The announcer flipped the card in his hand over and spoke. “All right, everyone, are you ready to have your worlds rocked?”

He jogged around onstage, holding the mike out to the crowd as they went nuts. A huge purple
HEARTLAND DANCE CHALLENGE
banner ruffled behind him. The sparkles that filled the letters
ART
inside the word
HEARTLAND
sent off waves of little reflections dancing across the floor. When the audience finally calmed down, he continued.

“We at the HDC like to keep things pretty small here, but this year—” The guy stopped in the middle of the stage, looking out toward the crowd. “This year we’ve got the biggest turnout we’ve ever had, folks!”

The crowd cheered as he pumped his fists into the air, running around the stage like he’d eaten an entire bag of sugar for breakfast.

“We’ll be starting off tonight’s competition with the solos in the Mini Division and working our way up from there.” The guy went on. Across the stage, there was another volunteer standing with a small group of kids. I guessed those were the Mini Division dancers. They couldn’t have been much older than kindergartners.

The crowd roared, snapping me out of whatever daze I was in. When I craned my neck to look over the dancers in front of me, the announcer was leaving the stage as a tiny girl in a sparkly orange outfit strutted on. I watched the first few routines. Even the Minis were good. Especially number 011.

The little guy had done a hip-hop routine that actually made me jealous.

Of a preschooler.

I pulled myself away from the curtain. My stomach was break-dancing in my gut and I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to keep my measly bowl of cereal down. When I spun around, I almost ran right into Kenton.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” he said with a smirk that I wanted to peel right off his face. I glanced down at his number: 018. I couldn’t decide whether going before him or after him would’ve been better. So instead, I tried not to think about it and headed away from the wing.

Avery was standing by herself, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Hey, Dillon,” she said, waving. She sounded about as freaked out as I felt. For some reason that made me feel a little better. “A lot more people here than I thought.”

“Yeah,” I said.

The crowd’s cheers echoed backstage. A volunteer trotted up, glancing at the sticker on my chest. Then at Avery’s—013. “Avery Yates? You’re up next. Just head to the wing and wait for them to call you.”

Avery gave me one last shaky-handed wave. She stopped beside Kenton, keeping her head down. Probably so she wouldn’t accidentally look at the jerky grin that I was sure his face was still drowning in.

I glanced down at her legging, already starting to droop.
Don’t do it, Dillon. You’re here to win.
Brain was pulling my eyes away, but heart was already sending me forward. I had to win, but not because her legging sent her flying off the stage.

“Hey, hold on.” I pulled the string out of my sweat pants’ waistband and knelt down beside her leg. “Before you go out.”

“What are you—” she said, but then stopped as I pulled her legging up and tied it over her calf with the string.

“Just in case. Good luck.”

She stared at her leg for a second and then looked up at me, pulling me into a hug. My breath caught in my chest. Giving her a string didn’t make up for what I’d done. But I couldn’t have let her dance like that. She smiled and walked onstage. Beside me, Kenton rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” I mumbled.

I hiked my sweats up and focused on the audience, trying to find my parents. Instead, my eyes landed on Kassie, Carson, and Austin sitting about halfway up on the end of an aisle.

I grabbed the edge of the curtain. What were they doing there? My first reaction was to run back down the side hallway into the auditorium. Dive into their arms and tell them all how much I’d missed them.

But then, a second reaction took over.

Fear.

Because I realized they probably weren’t there for me. They had to be there for Sarah. What if Kassie had changed her mind again and was planning on jumping up on the stage and crashing through the award ceremony like a human wrecking ball?

Avery’s music began and the lights dimmed.

I ran back to the dressing room and grabbed my phone. I couldn’t text Kassie. She probably wouldn’t answer me. Austin wouldn’t, either.

To:
Carson

Message:
is kassie going thru with her plan???

I waited. Inhale. Exhale. I was sucking down tiny gulps of air twice as fast as I should. The dressing room started spinning. Everything was going blurry.

I started shaking. No, I was being shaken. Sarah had me by the shoulders, trying to bring me back to life.

“Don’t do this, Dillon! I swear, if you faint before they announce your win, I’ll kill you!”

“I—need—siddown,” I mumbled.

Sarah pulled me around the corner into a classroom and sat me down in a chair. I rubbed my arm, still feeling the pinch where her fingers had been.

“What is wrong with you?” she snapped.

“They’re here!”

“
Who’s
here?”

“Carson and Austin and—and Kassie. In the audience.”

“So?”

There was no tiptoeing around it anymore. “Kassie’s here to—” I drew in a long breath, imagining the air soaking into my lungs was the courage I needed. “She’s, um, she’s going to—”

My phone vibrated in my hand. I glanced down at the screen.

Carson:
no. she decided not to, remember?

Sarah waved her hands in front of me. “Would you just spit it out?”

I would’ve, except I didn’t know what to spit out. If Kassie wasn’t there to finish her plan, then why’d she show up?

“Whatever,” Sarah said, grabbing my wrist. “Let’s go.”

I pulled away. “Just give me a minute, okay? This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense is you getting all weird right before your solo.” She made another grab for my hand, but I dodged her grip.

“Geez, calm down! Why do you even care if I dance, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, waving me forward. “Now come on.”

“Yeah, but you already know Kassie’s not competing.”

Sarah’s face went rigid. “I know that, Dillon.”

“But it doesn’t make—”

“I have to show my dad I can do this, okay? He thinks me teaching is the stupidest idea ever. But it’s what I want to do. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”