seen their pictures on the commercials. Good to know we were about to get judged by a pair of milkshake experts.
“So let’s get started, everyone! Be sure to cheer on your favorites, and don’t forget to stop by Smoothietopia on the way home today!”
A bored-looking girl wearing a headset walked over to us. “You competing today?”
“Yeah,” Kassie said. “We’re the Dizzee Freekz. I already signed us up.” I could hear the worry in her voice.
“Okay. Follow me.” She led us behind the stage. “So what’s with the masks? Your faces all burnt or something?” the girl said, smacking a piece of chewing gum.
“Uh, no. It’s just part of our costumes. I’m the Kung Fu Kid.” I pointed at the others while I fastened my new Dizzee Freekz pin to my shirt. “And that’s Misstik and C-Note. Dr. Doom’s in the audience filming—”
“Whatever,” the girl said, rolling her eyes. “Stay back here. I’ll give you the thumbs-up when it’s your turn.”
She walked off and parked herself at the corner of the stage. The butterflies in my stomach were shaking the morning puke from their wings and fluttering around. I took a deep breath and looked at the rest of my crew. Nobody spoke. They looked about as nervous as I felt.
“Okay, Sunnydale Mall, put your hands together and help me welcome our first contestants. The Geriatrics!”
Some soft, jazzy music started up and I poked my head around the corner to check out our competition. A bunch of old people. And one of them was the janitor I’d seen in the changing room. He still had his broom and was shuffling around behind four old ladies in dresses.
For a bunch of grandmas, they were pretty lively. They’d do a little turn here, a little kick there. Wiggle right, jiggle left, smile to the crowd, let Gramps pop out in front to dip the broom like a dancer. Not bad at all.
The crowd applauded and the silver-headed dancers took a bow. I turned back around. The others were right behind me, watching.
“They were so cute!” Carson said.
Kassie stepped back, shaking out her hands. “Okay, we’re third on the list. One more and we’ll be up.”
We rushed back to the edge of the stage. About a dozen men and women walked up, each one carrying a tiny baby. The adults sat down in a line, placing the toddlers in front of them.
“And now, for our second act, please welcome the Eastbrook Community Center’s ‘My Baby and Me’ Program!”
A bunch of people in the crowd jumped up, cheering like they were at a concert. A cutsey-pootsy song with way too many cartoon sound effects blared out over the speakers, and the babies waved back and forth, sidestepping and hopping. Of course, their parents were doing all the work. The most I saw one of the little ones do was try to stick an entire foot in his mouth and then ugly-cry when it wouldn’t fit.
My eyes met Austin’s and we both exchanged a What in the world is going on? expression. The song ended and the moms and dads walked offstage with the babies in tow. The girl with the headset gave us an unenthusiastic thumbs-up.
“Okay, guys,” Kassie said, huddling us up. “This is it. Let’s get out there and blow their minds.”
Carson and I nodded, both giving Kassie a high five at the same time.
I took all the stray thoughts that had to do with the scholarship, the studio, and Kassie’s plan and wadded them up in the back of my mind. I didn’t have time to worry about that stuff.
The Kung Fu Kid had some faces to melt.
T he announcer glanced at the stack of cards in his hands. “And for our last performance today—”
Me and Carson looked at each other like we were both asking the same question: Did he say “last”?
“—the…Dizzy…Freakies!” The announcer stumbled over the name like he was trying to read a foreign language.
I waited for Kassie to react, too, but she was in the zone. Eyes closed, breathing controlled, shoulders relaxed. Her skin looked almost golden under the food court
“So let’s get started, everyone! Be sure to cheer on your favorites, and don’t forget to stop by Smoothietopia on the way home today!”
A bored-looking girl wearing a headset walked over to us. “You competing today?”
“Yeah,” Kassie said. “We’re the Dizzee Freekz. I already signed us up.” I could hear the worry in her voice.
“Okay. Follow me.” She led us behind the stage. “So what’s with the masks? Your faces all burnt or something?” the girl said, smacking a piece of chewing gum.
“Uh, no. It’s just part of our costumes. I’m the Kung Fu Kid.” I pointed at the others while I fastened my new Dizzee Freekz pin to my shirt. “And that’s Misstik and C-Note. Dr. Doom’s in the audience filming—”
“Whatever,” the girl said, rolling her eyes. “Stay back here. I’ll give you the thumbs-up when it’s your turn.”
She walked off and parked herself at the corner of the stage. The butterflies in my stomach were shaking the morning puke from their wings and fluttering around. I took a deep breath and looked at the rest of my crew. Nobody spoke. They looked about as nervous as I felt.
“Okay, Sunnydale Mall, put your hands together and help me welcome our first contestants. The Geriatrics!”
Some soft, jazzy music started up and I poked my head around the corner to check out our competition. A bunch of old people. And one of them was the janitor I’d seen in the changing room. He still had his broom and was shuffling around behind four old ladies in dresses.
For a bunch of grandmas, they were pretty lively. They’d do a little turn here, a little kick there. Wiggle right, jiggle left, smile to the crowd, let Gramps pop out in front to dip the broom like a dancer. Not bad at all.
The crowd applauded and the silver-headed dancers took a bow. I turned back around. The others were right behind me, watching.
“They were so cute!” Carson said.
Kassie stepped back, shaking out her hands. “Okay, we’re third on the list. One more and we’ll be up.”
We rushed back to the edge of the stage. About a dozen men and women walked up, each one carrying a tiny baby. The adults sat down in a line, placing the toddlers in front of them.
“And now, for our second act, please welcome the Eastbrook Community Center’s ‘My Baby and Me’ Program!”
A bunch of people in the crowd jumped up, cheering like they were at a concert. A cutsey-pootsy song with way too many cartoon sound effects blared out over the speakers, and the babies waved back and forth, sidestepping and hopping. Of course, their parents were doing all the work. The most I saw one of the little ones do was try to stick an entire foot in his mouth and then ugly-cry when it wouldn’t fit.
My eyes met Austin’s and we both exchanged a What in the world is going on? expression. The song ended and the moms and dads walked offstage with the babies in tow. The girl with the headset gave us an unenthusiastic thumbs-up.
“Okay, guys,” Kassie said, huddling us up. “This is it. Let’s get out there and blow their minds.”
Carson and I nodded, both giving Kassie a high five at the same time.
I took all the stray thoughts that had to do with the scholarship, the studio, and Kassie’s plan and wadded them up in the back of my mind. I didn’t have time to worry about that stuff.
The Kung Fu Kid had some faces to melt.
T he announcer glanced at the stack of cards in his hands. “And for our last performance today—”
Me and Carson looked at each other like we were both asking the same question: Did he say “last”?
“—the…Dizzy…Freakies!” The announcer stumbled over the name like he was trying to read a foreign language.
I waited for Kassie to react, too, but she was in the zone. Eyes closed, breathing controlled, shoulders relaxed. Her skin looked almost golden under the food court
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