Kasey Screws Up the World (16 page)

“You have to teach me the steps first.”

It was just teaching Finn. Nothing else. If I thought of it that way, it wasn’t so daunting. “Let’s start with the footwork.” Mostly because that was the only part I knew really well. “Step in place with your left foot like this.” I lifted my right foot and set it back down. Finn copied me. “Now do the same to your right. The beat goes slow, slow, quick, quick, slow, slow, quick, quick.”

Finn picked up the rest of the footwork fast. Faster than I usually did at dance practice when we learned a new routine. I swallowed back the pang in my throat and turned to face him, placing my left hand on his shoulder. He followed suit and we interlocked our remaining hands so I could show him one of the turns. We practiced those moves through one entire version of the Katy Perry song. “Good, you’re getting it.”

“So are you, might I add.” He raised his brows at me.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that.”

I found myself smiling as I turned and he forgot to lift our interlocked hands so my head crashed into them. On one of my spins, Finn also decided to turn, which was wrong, but looked pretty cool.

“That’s good.” I paused to catch my breath. “We should use that move.”

I showed him a few more easy tricks I’d picked up in my whirlwind YouTube refresher course, but after the twentieth version of the Katy Perry song, I needed a break, both from her voice and dancing. I fanned myself while Finn shut off the karaoke.

“This isn’t so hard.” Finn plopped in a chair.

“That’s because we haven’t gotten to lifts and aerials yet.”

After nearly a full eight hours of practice, with a small ice cream break in the middle, Finn and I parted ways to get ready for dinner. We’d only managed to practice—and hopefully master—three lifts. When I taught him the first one, his muscles shook as he tried to lift me and I watched his teeth jam together. I probably should have avoided that ice cream.

The good news was, he only dropped me twice. Though that was bad news for the bruise forming on my thigh.

Even though we’d had a chance to run through our routine a few times, I clung to the hope that Jorge wouldn’t find the fake skit we’d thrown together funny and he’d evict us from the show. No dancing. No way I could steal this important opportunity from my sister.

But I knew there was a part of me that wanted this as much as she did.

When I got back to the room, Lara sat on the floor with her legs stretched out as she bent over them. “Have fun with Finn today?” She raised her eyebrows a few times in succession, code for, “Did you have fun
making out
with Finn today?”

“Yep. Nervous for tonight?” I made a lot of noise knocking over the items I needed for the shower to cover my own shaky voice. When I lifted my arm, I got a whiff of my, uh, ripe body odor so I backed up away from her at a fast clip, my back smacking against the bathroom door.

She waved her hand. “Nah, got the routine down. Thank God, because Mom is seriously driving me insane.”

I stared at her for a moment, fighting the prickle in my throat.

“What?” She pawed at her face. “You’re freaking me out.”

My eyelashes fluttered shut. “Nothing, Lara. Break a leg tonight.”

She groaned and bent into a stretch. “Never say that to a dancer.”

“Sorry. I meant good luck.” That wasn’t right either. I escaped Lara’s glare by disappearing into the bathroom. I knew what my next line was. It was right there in the script, as obvious as a cliché. I forced the words out. “You’ll be great.”

Displaying 1 out of 7 comments

Kasey
said…

I’m not approving any more comments from Finn or Clark impersonators.

MOM BARGED INTO MY room, startling me. The Western Civ textbook flew from my hands and landed on my blue carpet. I bolted upright and yanked my notebook closer to my chest as if I’d been caught doing something wrong, even if I was only doing my homework.

“Why did you take out nine hundred dollars from the bank account?” She stomped toward me and slapped a printout of the recent ATM transactions onto my bed. She hadn’t made contact with my skin, but it felt like a slap in the face.

“I—” I threw my hands up in defense, planning to finish the sentence with, “didn’t,” but as my eyes flicked to the sheet of paper in front of me, I realized who did. “I’m sorry.”

Date: September 9

Time: 3:09pm

Location: 575 Lexington Ave, New York

Amount withdrawn: $200

Date: September 6

Time: 11:24am

Location: 32 Avenue of the Americas, New York

Amount withdrawn: $150

The dates went all the way back to the last week of August; the most recent from an hour ago. Lara was still in New York City. She hadn’t left me entirely.

“What do you need that kind of money for, Kasey?” Mom snatched up the print out.

I was asking myself the same question, but about Lara instead. I thought back to the summer when I’d come home mid-afternoon to find a strange woman in our living room, helping Lara balance on her good leg.

“That’s enough for today,” the woman had said.

“No. My body’s used to pushing itself,” Lara replied in a snippy tone.

“You’re overdoing it. You shouldn’t even be doing physical therapy until you get the cast off. You could get hurt.”

“Fine.” Lara flipped on the television, already tuning the woman out. “I’ll just find someone else to help me.”

That had been the first of many physical therapists Lara had hired behind Mom and Dad’s back. At the time, I wondered how Lara paid for them. Now, I had a pretty good idea. Though I hadn’t seen any physical therapists since July and these ATM withdrawals hadn’t began until August.

Mom jiggled the paper.

“I’ll pay it back.” I had to cover for Lara. Which meant I had to come up with a reason why I needed that much money.

“I don’t care if you’re going to pay it back. What’s the money for?”

My eyes flicked to the Western Civ book I’d thrown to the floor. “College applications.” With each word my voice grew more confident. “I didn’t want to burden you guys with paying the processing fees.”

Mom’s arm flopped to her side. She swayed in place, as if deciding if she should be mad about this. “Just how many schools are you applying to?”

“A lot.” I swallowed hard and forced the next words out of my mouth. “Now that I won’t have the option of applying for a dance scholarship, I—”

Mom scoffed. She didn’t say anything else but her meaning was clear. I would never have received a dance scholarship even before quitting.

She backed away into the center of my bedroom. “What about the money you made this summer at McDonalds?”

“I gave it to Lara.”

That was only partly true. Lara had never accepted it. But now she would. She just wouldn’t know it.

WHEN YOU WISH YOU WERE THE STAR

Posted by Kasey at 7:17 P.M.

Tuesday, September 9

Current
Past Mood:
Apprehensive

SAT Word Of The Day:
Quell. Definition: Not quelling fears but delusions.

I wrote this post with a squeeze ball in hand. I suggest you read it with one as well.

Finn and I met Jorge on stage where he huddled with crew members. “Our routine includes a song. Where should we set that up?” Finn asked him.

Jorge pointed us in the direction of the technical crew.

Finn started to walk, but I stayed in place, staring at Jorge, willing my lips to form into the words I knew I should say. Words that meant quitting. But my mouth wouldn’t take orders from my brain. Finn rushed back over to me and tugged me into step.

By the time we got back, Jorge was chatting with other guests. We waited patiently next to him but he didn’t even acknowledge us.

I tapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t you need to see our routine?” This was my last chance, my last out. If he hated our routine, that would be it, I wouldn’t perform.

“Sure. Go ahead.” He waved us onto the stage.

As we ran through it, he never glanced at us. At one point, he even headed backstage and missed a large chunk of our performance. It didn’t matter though. This practice run was really for the music. The technical crew paid attention and our song played on cue. We ran through the rest of our fake routine knowing that everything after that point would be replaced with our dance. My feet itched to step to the beat, but I controlled myself.

“Looks good!” Jorge said when he finally noticed we’d stopped, a full two minutes after we set down our mics.

“Easier than I thought.” Finn led me off to the side of the stage, just behind the curtain.

No backing out now.

We had a good view of one side of the empty auditorium from our spot, and as the crowd filtered in, I imagined every person in the audience was the coveted reality show producer Lara desperately wanted to impress. Finn ran through the routine using his fingers as the dancers. I only practiced what it would be like to have a seizure.

The lights dimmed, and I smoothed down the leotard Lara had gifted me with shaky fingers.

“Ready?” Finn asked, offering me his hand.

I had to be. I’d run out of excuses.