My Seventh-Grade Life in Tights (2 page)

“Our clothes are our uniform. It’s another way we express ourselves,” Kassie said. “Three different dance styles, three different uniforms. I already told you to buy some baggier jeans.”

“Yeah, my dad said I didn’t need another pair.” I fell back onto the couch cushions, staring up at the light that had started flickering again. “Guess I’m stuck being the fake dancer with the wedgies.”

Kassie slid down beside me. “Look, the fact that you don’t have all that technique is
why
we love your dancing. Me and Carson went through the brainwashing at our studios. Which is why I only have one rule: studios are for sellouts. They’re all business, and dancing’s all art.”

Carson leaned over, staring down at me. “In a way, you’re lucky. When you dance, you don’t have to worry about lines and feet and hands. You just get out there and move.”

“Exactly!” Kassie said. “You just need to keep doing the moves that feel right. The moves that fit. Your dancing is pure. Which makes it awesome.”

It felt great to hear her say that. But I was tired of
pure. Pure
was just another way to say
You have no idea what you’re doing, but thanks for making us look good.

Austin held his phone out over my head. “Hate to break up the group hug, guys, but my mom’s here.”

Kassie’s shoulders dropped. “All right. We’ll pick back up on Saturday. Before we go”—she sat up on her knees and put her hand out, palm down—“let’s make our promise.”

Carson put his hand in. Austin was next. I peeled myself off the couch seat and lifted my hand, letting it hover over everyone else’s.

“The crew comes first.”

That was the oath. The promise we made every practice.

I could practically hear the dancers on the Dance-Splosion website whispering inside my pocket. Wondering what I was going to do. Betting on whether I was going to end my summer with a big, fat lie.

Kassie’s eyes narrowed. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” My hand fell on the pile. “Everything’s good.”

Kassie was the last one to leave. She took a few steps up the stairs and stopped.

“I just—I hope you know I really do love your dancing. Like, a lot.”

“Thanks, Kass. I love yours, too. A lot.”

I pretended to smooth down my hair, hoping my hand would hide the ball of pink my face was turning into.

“Cool. You need help with the couch?”

“Um, no. I’ll get it. Thanks.”

She waved and left.

My crew was my family. But they didn’t understand what it was like for me. The more we danced together, the more I felt like I didn’t belong. Kassie and Carson had chosen to leave their studios. I’d never even set foot in one.

I was the outsider in a group of outsiders.

My chest ached at the thought of what I was considering. As soon as the door upstairs closed, I pulled the website up on my phone.

Dance-Splosion. Where
real
dancers were made.

Don’t do it,
my brain screamed.
Studios are evil, and you’re evil for just thinking about doing this!

My eyes stayed glued to the screen. Before I knew it, I was selecting a song from my playlist: “We Will Rock You” by Queen.

I pushed play and switched to video mode. I sat my phone on the coffee table and hit record.

“Hi, my name’s Dillon Parker. I’m twelve years old and I go to Sunnydale Middle. I hope you like my dance.”

E
very step I took down the hallway sent me deeper into a gigantic pit of regret.

I hadn’t actually sent the YouTube link to Dance-Splosion. But the fact that I’d even thought about it made me feel like a traitor.

Everyone was heading toward the gym for our first-day celebration assembly. Calling the first day of school a celebration was like calling a trip to the dentist a vacation. The only good thing about the first day back was that it was already Thursday.

Austin caught up with me on my way. “Hey, Dill,” he said, taking a bite of a chicken biscuit. “You heading to— What’s wrong?”

“Just wishing I didn’t have to be here.”

“I know what you mean. Some eighth grader corndogged me on my way to breakfast. I’m gonna have a butt bruise for a month.”

“It’s not that. It’s…something else.”

“What’s up?”

I stopped at a bank of lockers, letting my head fall against the wall. I winced as the back of my skull clipped a padlock. For a second I thought about doing myself a favor and just knocking myself out.

Austin brushed a field of crumbs off his shirt. “If it’s about your schedule, I feel you. I got Mrs. Kellerman for history.” He put his hand to his neck, pretending to choke.

I closed my eyes. A million different answers scrambled through my brain, each one sounding worse than the one before it. I wanted to tell someone. I’d bottled up my secret for less than a day and it already wanted to escape. Austin was my best friend. If anyone would understand, he would.

“I messed up. Like, for real,” I said.

Austin slid his finger under his glasses to scratch his eyelid. “Okay. What’d you do this time?”

I took a deep breath and sighed. “I recorded an audition video to a contest Dance-Splosion is having.”

“Dance-Splosion? As in Kassie’s old dance studio? Why would you do that?”

“I have no idea. I think I was sick of not getting help. It just all happened really fast.”

“Dude, Kassie’s gonna go ballistic when she finds out.”

“That’s the thing. I never sent the link to them.”

“Oh. Then why are you worried?”

“Because I
thought
about sending it in! What does that mean?”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “It means you didn’t send it in. And she won’t find out. So stop worrying about it.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t have anything to worry about. But then why did I still feel so bad? “No. I have to tell her. I’ll do it fast. Like tearing off a Band-Aid. I owe her that at least.” I pushed myself off the lockers, back into the hallway traffic.

“Do that, then. Hey, why didn’t you get me to record it for you?”

“Well, I—because you already left. I should have, though. You would’ve talked me out of it.”

“Nah, I’m just the director. I only tell you things like stop judo-kicking yourself out of the frame.” Austin took another bite, dropping a chunk of biscuit on the floor. “So what’s up? I thought you loved dancing with them.”

“I do, Austin. It’s just…I don’t know.” I shook my head. “When Kassie showed us the new choreography, I thought I was gonna learn all these new moves. But all she wanted me to do was the same old stuff. Then Carson started talking about entering us in a dance competition.”

“Dude, you were the one who got all excited about competing.”

“I know. But that was before I realized I was the only one not getting any better. And don’t act like you haven’t noticed.”

Austin shot me a
What did I do?
look. “So? You heard Kassie. All she cares about is that you’re expressing yourself. Even if you did almost kick her arm off.”

“Shut up, Austin. Besides, that’s easy for her to say. She already dances like an angel.”

Austin laughed, spraying a mist of chicken everywhere. “Aww, you’re so romantic.”

We walked into the gym. Most of the football players usually sat together during assemblies. But I never did, since I was on the blue team. Which was the group right below second string. We were basically glorified tackling dummies.

I stopped at the edge of the bleachers and spotted Kassie standing about halfway up, waving her arms at us. I followed Austin up the steps. Kassie scooted over to give me a spot to sit. Before my butt even hit the bleacher seat—

“Hi, my name’s Dillon Parker. I’m twelve years old and I go to Sunnydale Middle. I hope you like my dance.” She was watching my audition video on her phone.

I grabbed the edge of the bleachers so hard my knuckles popped. I tried to speak, but I was too busy almost-hyperventilating. I must have forgotten to make the video private. And now the entire world could see it. Even worse—Kassie!

My chest tightened. This couldn’t be happening. I thought about throwing myself down the bleacher steps and playing the pity card. But I was frozen, watching my routine and wondering how bad Kassie was going to hate me for it.

The video played through to my last move—a double twist with a roundhouse kick. I’d caught so much air I thought I was gonna ram my head through the ceiling. I’d gotten in an extra half spin. As the song hit its final big note, I landed with my fist way over my head.

With the backside of my jeans ripped.

And staring right back at me and the other 1,594 people who had watched the video was the slightly sweaty pair of bright white underwear I’d been wearing.

The blood drained from my head and the entire gym started to spin. I retraced my steps, trying to figure out how I didn’t notice my butt was practically hanging out during my dance.

1.  Everyone left and I recorded my video.

2.  My mom yelled at me to come upstairs for dinner.

3.  I jumped in the shower while it uploaded.

4.  I deleted the evidence from my phone.

I buried my face in my hands. I’d never even watched the routine.

Austin barked out a loud laugh. “Dude, you still wear briefs!”

There wasn’t time for me to give him a dirty look. I was already halfway to a faint.

“Stop it, Austin. This is serious.” Kassie turned, staring at me. “What’s this for, Dillon?”

Lie. Lie to her and just say it was for fun and it was nothing and she should just forget about the whole thing forever.
That was all I had to say. And she’d probably believe me. She’d probably even laugh and say it was a cool idea that I “put myself out there.”

So what did I do?

I confessed.

“Dance-Splosion is having a contest for a scholarship and I recorded an audition, but I never sent them the link, I swear! I don’t know what I was gonna do with it.” I probably broke the speed record for spilling my guts, but at least it was out there. Fast like a Band-Aid. Still hurt, though.

Kassie didn’t say a word. She just looked at me, her eyes wide. I couldn’t stand it. I shoved my face against my palms and prayed she wouldn’t hate me for the rest of my life.

When she finally did say something, it wasn’t what I was expecting.

“Oh my gosh, I just had the best idea ever.”

My head popped back up. Kassie was staring at the screen with this open-mouth grin on her face. Me and Carson shared a quick look, probably wondering why our crew leader wasn’t tearing me a new one.

“I’m serious, guys, this is so good.”

Carson waved his hand in front of her face. “Earth to Kassie. We can’t read your mind, sweetie.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.” She took a deep breath and replayed the video. “Okay, so think about this. What if Dillon
did
send in the video—” Her hand shot up to cut me off. “And if he gets picked, he’ll have to accept the award or dance onstage or whatever the winner does, right? So if that happens, right when he’s got everyone’s attention, he lets them have it.”

“Lets them have it?” Carson asked.

“Yeah! He can be all like,
You can keep your lousy dance rules and your lousy dance studio!
” She dropped an invisible mike and looked at me. “What do you think?”

“Hold up, you mean you’re not ticked off at him?” Austin asked.

I shot Austin a
Would you please shut up before you actually do make her mad?
glare. “I was never gonna send them the link, Austin.” I turned to Kassie. She had one eyebrow cocked like she only halfway believed me. “Please believe me. Studios are for sellouts. That’s the rule.”

Austin’s eyes grew huge behind his massive lenses. “Hold up, Kassie—you’re not being serious, are you?”

“I am. I think it’s time we send the studios a message.” Her eyes fell on someone sitting in the bottom row. I knew who she was looking at the second she did it.

Sarah Middleton.

The eighth-grade photography club president and Dance-Splosion’s best dancer. Kassie never talked about why she’d dropped out, but I had a pretty good feeling it had something to do with Sarah.

“Okay, I am
so
voting we do this,” Carson said. “Remember last year when I went through my photographer phase? I took all these awesome pictures of the football team. There was one of DeMarcus that could’ve been an ad for Gatorade. It was that good. I emailed it to Sarah’s club and she replied that it was inappropriate for me to be taking pictures of her boyfriend. She told everyone I was making DeMarcus uncomfortable.”

“Well, you were obsessed with the guy,” Austin said.

“What do you mean
were
?” Kassie added, winking at Carson.

He shook his head. “I’m being serious. You don’t know how humiliating it is to have to hear the principal talk to your parents about harassment.” Carson stared down at his hands for a second, then sucked in a quick gasp of air. “Oh my gosh. Okay, my turn to be a genius. You know what else he should do?”

I shook my head. Partly to say
No, I don’t
and partly to say
No, please don’t make me, because I’m sure I don’t want to hear it, judging by the crazy look in your eyes.