Part 15 (2/2)

”Yeah,” Marge echoed. ”Just tell us what kind of dance you need to know.”

I climbed off the bed. ”Here's the deal. I have to dance against this guy who's got some really cool moves. He dances kind of hip hop robotic style.”

I did my best to try to imitate Johnny. I know I failed miserably. Marge and Mom looked at each other and broke out into some dumb robot dance. I just rolled my eyes.

”Seriously,” Mom said. ”I think I get a picture of his style, but I don't know how you're going to pull that off.”

”I agree,” said Marge. ”I think you need to come up with your own style. Take it old school.”

She started gyrating her very large hips. Marge really had some moves. She got in trouble when she did some kind of weird dip with her leg and sank to the floor. She couldn't get up.

”I think I pulled something in my back,” she moaned.

”You okay?” Mom asked, sitting beside her to rub her back.

”I just need to sit here for a little bit. It's an old ski injury.”

I watched them plopped on my floor, moaning about old injuries. Finally, I cleared my throat. I still needed to practice. Mom got the hint and rose to her feet. But she wasn't leaving. She had come to be my instructor.

”Start with loosening those hips, Bea,” she ordered and turned back on the music.

I started moving them around, but not much because I had two overweight women watching me and judging my every move.

”For goodness sakes, honey,” Marge yelled, ”you've got a booty; now move it.”

I threw any inhibitions I had and went for it. Mom and Marge had a stunned expression on their faces when I stopped to breathe. They looked at each other, speechless for a moment.

”Well,” Mom said slowly and rose to her feet again. ”I can see you're not afraid to jiggle. That's good. And you've got a lot of energy. That's good. Now we just need to harness that energy--”

”That's right,” Marge broke in. ”Harness that energy.”

”I'm terrible, huh?” I said with a knowing nod of my head.

”No,” Mom disagreed. ”Not terrible. Just--”

”Unrefined,” Marge said with a wink. ”Never fear, honey. We can get you where you need to be.”

From that point on, Marge would meet us at our house right after school to practice. Slowly, I caught on to some ”old school moves,” as Marge called them. They helped me ch.o.r.eograph a dance routine that I actually felt really good about.

One day, Marge brought me two presents. One was a dvd of an old movie they had watched as kids. Grease. I groaned when she started playing it, but by the time it finished, I was inspired. It was kind of an old dance off--sing off. That girl had changed from being insecure to a confident, hot babe.

After the movie, Marge had me unwrap her second gift. I squealed when I opened the lid of the box. Inside were the most amazing pink pumps I had ever seen. The four-inch heels screamed for me to slide them on my feet. I don't know what it is about high heels, but I feel like a changed person when I put them on. They're kind of like my secret weapon at debates because they give me confidence.

I put them on and stood up. Call me crazy, but I felt like I had become that girl in the movie. Even Mom and Marge noticed. I don't know where Marge had found the shoes, but this was the secret weapon I needed to challenge Johnny P. to a dance off.

I had decided on a day when I would bust my own moves at lunch. I had it all planned out, but Mom and Marge had their own plans.

”Where shall we meet you, Bea?” Mom asked.

”What?” was all I could squeak out.

”At the dance compet.i.tion,” Marge said. ”You don't think we'd miss it, do you? I'll bet most of the other parents will be there to watch, too.”

I gnawed at my lip, trying to figure out a way to keep them away from school. ”It's only for students.”

They looked at each other and laughed. ”You just try to keep us away after all the work we've put into your dance.”

”You can't come,” I insisted.

”Oh, we'll be there all right,” Mom said staunchly. When she made up her mind, no one could change it. Not even Dad.

”It's not that big of a deal,” I said. I knew I had already lost the battle. ”It's at lunch time. It'll only be the guy and me. I promise you, only students will be there. Please don't show up and embarra.s.s me.”

Marge and Mom looked at each other and burst out laughing. They didn't even respond to me. They walked out of my bedroom like I hadn't said a word. I fell back on my bed, holding my head. Mom would be so mad if she really knew why I was putting all that effort into the dance.

I was on edge all the next day. Johanna had told me to wear jeans to the dance off. She kept a.s.suring me that my mom and Marge wouldn't show up. She didn't know them like I did.

When the bell rang to dismiss debate cla.s.s, I jumped up and headed for the door. Mr. Robarb called my name just when I turned the k.n.o.b. No. I had almost tasted freedom. I reluctantly turned back to him. Of course, I had to wait until everyone was gone before he talked. By the time he opened his mouth, I was a basket case.

Mr. Robarb cleared his throat. ”I just wanted to apologize, Beatrice.”

”I'm good,” I said quickly. ”Everything's fine.”

”No, I owe you an explanation. You were right to call me on my behavior--”

”Mr. Robarb, I really gotta run,” I said quickly. ”I forgive you and all that jazz. Okay?”

He shook his head slightly. ”Well, I appreciate that, Beatrice, but--”

”Bye,” I shouted and darted out the door. Right into Brody. And Mom and Marge.

”Hey, Bea,” Brody said. ”Your Mom and Marge are here to see you dance. I didn't know you danced. Is it for the dance squad?”

”Look, Johanna's waiting for me. I have to meet her. There's no dance today,” I yelled over my shoulder and took off with my backpack. I didn't even wait to see their expressions.

Johanna was pacing at the lunch table by the time I rushed up. ”You don't have much time,” she whispered as I threw the backpack on the table and pulled off my tennis shoes. She caught her breath when she saw the heels I had brought to dance in--my four-inch pink pumps.

”Delicious,” she breathed, barely taking her eyes off my feet. ”Can you dance in those?”

”Come and see,” I said. I felt sa.s.sy. That was good because it overrode the fear that threatened to overtake me.

She carried my backpack as we strode over to the basketball courts. Johnny P. was there performing with the usual crowd. I rolled my neck a couple of times and stretched my arms over my head. I pulled off my coat. I was wearing a long sleeve black T-s.h.i.+rt. For once in my life, I felt hot. It was the shoes.

We received a couple of curious looks as we made our way to the front of the crowd. I didn't look around for fear the tattooed girl would recognize me. Johanna nervously played with the CD player she had brought. I whispered for her to turn it up full volume. Then I would make my entrance.

The music started blaring. I slowly, seductively, strode out onto the court with Johnny P. He stopped dancing and his face registered surprise. He looked around uncertainly. How could he know I was there to challenge him?

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