while they danced. But it was only for a short time, and it would get her back on the team. “Okay, if I’m gonna go be water girl, then I gotta bounce!” She blew an air kiss at the group and raced off.
She was about to walk toward school, but then, spotting the twins perched on the white picket fence like alterna-guard dogs, Coco thought better of it and walked all the way to the back of the field to take the south exit, just to avoid the Shean brothers.
Twelve minutes later, and totally out of breath, Coco darted into the dance studio, which was almost as big as her private studio. There were gold-framed pictures of the Bam-Bams, a surround-sound system, and shiny wood floors . The room smelled like sweat and pine wood cleaner with a hint of lavender room spray. Haylie was leading the group in stretching at the bars, which lined the mirrored walls.
“What are you doing here?” Haylie asked, standing on her right leg, her left leg balanced over the bar. She wore a purple leotard and purple American Apparel shorts and way too much makeup for a practice (lip shimmer, eyeliner, mascara, and blush). The other girls, who were stretching on the bar behind Haylie, turned and faced Coco, like an army of one-legged robots. They looked like a Capezioed centipede.
“I’m the water boy.” Coco forced a smile, her cheeks burning. Coco was never good at faking her feelings: She was as see-through as chiffon.
The other Bam-Bams looked surprised. Near the front of the ballet bar, Lucia leaned in to face Maribel and they giggled. Coco stiffened, wondering why so many smart girls (who, up until Wednesday, had been her friends) had turned against her so easily. What made even less sense was how they could so blindly follow Haylie “Seven-Second Delay” Fowler, who was the only person who didn’t seem surprised by Coco’s odd grand entrance. Ruby had obviously filled Haylie in on the plan already.
“Glad to have you here,” Haylie said, as though she and Coco were total strangers meeting for the first time. “Water’s over there.” She pointed toward a giant cardboard box of Fiji waters in the far corner of the studio. “The bottles should really be in a pyramid formation.” She went back to stretching.
Coco stepped out of her muddy, eggplant-stained flats and dragged her feet over to the corner of the studio to begin her first task. She settled down on the glossy blond wood floor and started stacking Fiji bottles one by one. The girls moved away from the bar, toward the middle of the studio.
It was quiet in the studio. Peaceful, even. At least no one could make fun of her here. And at least she’d get her place back eventually. Maybe this wasn’t so bad?
“Umbrella” started playing over the sound system, and Coco’s heart thumped sadly as she watched the girls take their first position and hit their steps— her steps . Maribel bumped into Taylor and they all had a giggle break while the song played. They looked like they were having so much fun.
Coco forced her gaze away from her ex-teammates and back to her water bottle pyramid-in-progress. It was bad enough to be made fun of by the entire school, and it was even worse to have to be the water boy, but to have to miss dancing her own routine . . . That hurt most of all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
becks
Thursday September 10
2:55 PM School’s out
4:15 PM Meet Ellie for TBL (Torture Becks Lesson) #1
WHY WHY WHY WHY
B ecks entered the Grove by Morels French steak-house just as a giant wood-paneled trolley packed with tourists passed. The Grove was like the Disneyland of outdoor malls, which was why it had a trolley and a footbridge and fountains and its own souvenir memorabilia. Becks felt so totally confused and frustrated that she had to stop and sit on a bench because she was staring so intently at her phone. It was official: Becks hated text messages. They were never good news. The last one from Ellie had made no sense:
C U AT THE GROVE @
She was about to walk toward school, but then, spotting the twins perched on the white picket fence like alterna-guard dogs, Coco thought better of it and walked all the way to the back of the field to take the south exit, just to avoid the Shean brothers.
Twelve minutes later, and totally out of breath, Coco darted into the dance studio, which was almost as big as her private studio. There were gold-framed pictures of the Bam-Bams, a surround-sound system, and shiny wood floors . The room smelled like sweat and pine wood cleaner with a hint of lavender room spray. Haylie was leading the group in stretching at the bars, which lined the mirrored walls.
“What are you doing here?” Haylie asked, standing on her right leg, her left leg balanced over the bar. She wore a purple leotard and purple American Apparel shorts and way too much makeup for a practice (lip shimmer, eyeliner, mascara, and blush). The other girls, who were stretching on the bar behind Haylie, turned and faced Coco, like an army of one-legged robots. They looked like a Capezioed centipede.
“I’m the water boy.” Coco forced a smile, her cheeks burning. Coco was never good at faking her feelings: She was as see-through as chiffon.
The other Bam-Bams looked surprised. Near the front of the ballet bar, Lucia leaned in to face Maribel and they giggled. Coco stiffened, wondering why so many smart girls (who, up until Wednesday, had been her friends) had turned against her so easily. What made even less sense was how they could so blindly follow Haylie “Seven-Second Delay” Fowler, who was the only person who didn’t seem surprised by Coco’s odd grand entrance. Ruby had obviously filled Haylie in on the plan already.
“Glad to have you here,” Haylie said, as though she and Coco were total strangers meeting for the first time. “Water’s over there.” She pointed toward a giant cardboard box of Fiji waters in the far corner of the studio. “The bottles should really be in a pyramid formation.” She went back to stretching.
Coco stepped out of her muddy, eggplant-stained flats and dragged her feet over to the corner of the studio to begin her first task. She settled down on the glossy blond wood floor and started stacking Fiji bottles one by one. The girls moved away from the bar, toward the middle of the studio.
It was quiet in the studio. Peaceful, even. At least no one could make fun of her here. And at least she’d get her place back eventually. Maybe this wasn’t so bad?
“Umbrella” started playing over the sound system, and Coco’s heart thumped sadly as she watched the girls take their first position and hit their steps— her steps . Maribel bumped into Taylor and they all had a giggle break while the song played. They looked like they were having so much fun.
Coco forced her gaze away from her ex-teammates and back to her water bottle pyramid-in-progress. It was bad enough to be made fun of by the entire school, and it was even worse to have to be the water boy, but to have to miss dancing her own routine . . . That hurt most of all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
becks
Thursday September 10
2:55 PM School’s out
4:15 PM Meet Ellie for TBL (Torture Becks Lesson) #1
WHY WHY WHY WHY
B ecks entered the Grove by Morels French steak-house just as a giant wood-paneled trolley packed with tourists passed. The Grove was like the Disneyland of outdoor malls, which was why it had a trolley and a footbridge and fountains and its own souvenir memorabilia. Becks felt so totally confused and frustrated that she had to stop and sit on a bench because she was staring so intently at her phone. It was official: Becks hated text messages. They were never good news. The last one from Ellie had made no sense:
C U AT THE GROVE @
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