Authors: Deborah Gregory
“
Welcome to the Glitterdome.
It’s any place you call home.
Give me props, I’ll give you cash
,
then show you where my sparkles stashed.
Glitter, glitter. Don’t be bitter!
Glitter, glitter. Don’t be bitter!
Glitter, glitter. Don’t be bitter!
”
We were on point and almost finished “beating our faces,” as Mom calls it. She says she thinks we may have a future. She came to one of the rehearsals at Chuchie’s and watched.
“Dag on, Galleria. You should just give me this lipstick,” Angie says, outlining her full smackers with my lipstick. Actually, we were splitting the one tube of S.N.A.P.S. lipstick in Flack between the five of us, but I was holding on to it.
“That’s enough!” Chuchie yells. Flack is this metallic purple-blue color that may give mad effects under the Cheetah-Rama’s strobe lights when we are onstage.
“It’s not blue, Galleria. It looks more purple in the light,” Aqua says, holding up the tube.
“If you get hot sauce on it, it’ll be red!” Chanel blurts out, then snatches Aqua’s backpack. “Let me check your bag! You can’t carry a bottle of hot sauce in your bag anymore. It could break and ruin everything. Just carry packets!” Do’ Re Mi giggles.
“That’s a Cheetah Girls rule!” I yell out. “Now, come on. We’ve got one hour to get to the club before show time.”
“Do’ Re Mi, you sure your cat suit isn’t too tight?” Chanel asks, poking Do’ Re Mi’s butt and pulling her tail.
“No. I’m fine!” Do’ Re Mi growls. “You think we’ll be able to see onstage with these masks on?”
“We just ain’t gonna move too close to the edge so we don’t fall off!” says Angie.
Truth or dare be told, Angie and Aqua are lookin’ more relaxed than the rest of us. They have more experience singing. And, besides, anyone who could get those church ladies to fall out in the aisles has serious skills. The only experience we had was talent shows and vocal lessons.
“Maybe we should just let Angie and Aqua sing for real, and we lip-synch into the mikes,” I turn and say to Do’ Re Mi and Chanel, ’cause I’m getting cold feet fast.
“Last dance. No chance,” Do’ Re Mi says, wiggling her matchstick butt.
We are gonna sing four songs—two of mine, and two of Kahlua’s—“Don’t Lox Me out the Box” and “The Toyz Is Mine.” In the end, we decided to use tracks from all house music tapes to perform to, and sing the lyrics over them.
I can’t believe this is happening. Not the performing part. I can believe that. Me and Chanel have been singing long enough into plastic hairbrushes to win the unofficial Wanna-be Stars in the Jiggy Jungle Award. I just can’t believe we are actually going to make some money on the d.d.l. (the divette duckets license).
We walk over to the Cheetah-Rama in our outfits. “Cheetah Girls! Cheetah Girls are in the house!” Chuchie yells down the block. It’s Halloween, so everyone is looking at us and smiling.
We are only five blocks away from the Cheetah-Rama, which is at the end of West Broadway near the Mad Hatter Lounge. My mom goes there for tea on Sundays. The Cheetah-Rama is the dopiest dope club. They have cheetah couches and curtains, and my mom has been here a few times to dance because they play house music on special occasions. She drags Dad along, or sometimes Juanita, but sometimes she’ll come by herself because she has a lot of old school friends who are still single and who still like to hang out.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been in a nightclub, because last year we had the Kats and Kittys Klub Christmas Egg Nogger at the Hound Club in Harlem. But this is the first time I’ve hung out at a club that my mom the diva has danced at. I feel like it’s the jointski, and I’m glad that no grown-ups are allowed here tonight—except for the Kats and Kittys Klub’s staff and treasury committee.
Me and Chuchie have only been to the Cheetah-Rama in the daytime. It is kinda dark inside now, and I step on Aqua’s foot because I don’t see the decline of the ramp inside the entrance. I stumble for a few steps, and Chanel grabs my arm.
“Oh, snapples, Chuchie, member that dream you had? Well, it’s not a dream!”
I don’t care if I fall on my face. We’ve agreed to make our entrance wearing our masks, but my eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness.
You can tell it’s Halloween, all right. The Cheetah-Rama is definitely haunted, with hundreds of Kats and Kittys wearing some pretty scary costumes.
“Hi, Mrs. Bugge,” Do’ Re Mi yells out. Her costume is hee-larious. She is wearing a green Afro, baseball uniform, and sneakers.
“Who is she supposed to be?” I ask, poking Aqua, who is staring at her.
“Menace Robbins!” she snips back.
“Oh, that guy from the Houston Oilys basketball team?” I ask.
“It’s the Oilers!” Aqua snips.
Okay, so I never watch basketball games. Apparently, sports are a very big thing down south, according to the twins.
This is definitely a live party. It is wall-to-wall thumpin’—the music, the crowd, the lights. The excitement in the air is thumping, too.
People turn to look at us. The Cheetah Girls have definitely made an entrance. It was worth almost falling on my face!
“Cheetah Girls come out at night, baby!” I scream, throwing my hands in the air like I just don’t care. Every eye in the house is on us, including some I can’t see.
“Bubbles, don’t look now,” Chanel whispers. She is in back of me, pulling the tail on Do’ Re Mi’s cat suit, causing Do’ to squeal. I turn, and Chanel whispers, “Don’t look. Don’t look.”
I look, anyway. There is someone grinning in a Batman mask. “Holy, cannoli!” I giggle to Chanel. “Batman has big feet.” Batman starts walking toward me, but his cape isn’t flapping in the wind.
“Hey, Cheetah Girl!”
I know that voice. Oh, no, it can’t be. The Red Snapper turned into a Caped Crusader? Gotham City is in deep herring. “Derek?”
“That’s me.
C’est moil
”
“Since when did you become a member?”
“Since you are,
ma chérie.
”
“Oh, it’s like that,” I say, smirking. His family has the duckets. Why am I surprised that he joined? Copycat.
“Are you taking French in school?” Chanel asks him, poking fun at him.
“
Qui, oui, mademoiselle
” Derek says, grabbing Chanel’s hand to kiss it.
“We’re glad to see ya, Mr.
Oui, Oui!
” Chanel says, choking, taking her hand back and wiping it on her cat suit.
Derek seems so different without his Johnny BeDown hookups.
“Where’s Robin?” I ask, referring to his friend Mackerel, who also goes to Fashion Industries High with us.
“He’s not a Kats and Kittys member. He thinks it’s mad corny.”
“Too bad. You coulda been the dynamic duo.”
“I got a Batmobile outside. Wanna ride later?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, if you decide to, just give me the Batsignal.” Derek laughs, pointing a flashlight in my face.
“
Au revoir
, Batman.” Chanel says, wiggling her fingers.
“
Ciao
, Cheetah,” he says to me. “Remember—you could be my Catwoman.”
He does have good comeback lines, even if he was super-nervy right out of the box. Maybe Chanel is right—maybe I do think he’s kinda cute, even if that gold tooth of his makes me laugh.
Not!
Mrs. Bugge is signaling us to go backstage. It’s show time. We run backstage and pick up the cordless mikes on the floor waiting for us. Then we line up five in a row behind the curtain, just like we rehearsed. Me and Chuchie are in the center. Do’ Re Mi is standing to my left, and Aqua and Angie are together, next to Chanel.
“May the Force be with you,” I tell Chuchie. This is something mystical, from a Star Wars movie, I think, but my mom always says it. I say it over and over again to myself.
Chuchie squeezes my hand. “Your hands are freezing, Bubbles,” she whispers.
I almost wish Mom was here, because I am so scared.
I’m definitely on my own now. With my crew. Not in Mom’s shadow. Me and Chuchie have followed the Yellow Brick Road just like we said we would. We made that promise to each other when we were seven years old. We would follow the Yellow Brick Road until we were independent and on our own—and, yes, had money of our own in our cheetah purses. We are never gonna work at Mikki D’s.
“We’ll always be crew. No matter what happens,” I whisper to Chuchie, winking at her. I really do love Chuchie, my ace
señorita.
My fairy godsister.
Do’ Re Mi is sniffling. “Do’ Re, you’re not crying, are you?” Chuchie asks her.
“No!” she giggles. I swear she cries more than the Tin Man. (I’m not supposed to know this, but Chuchie told me.)
My heart is pounding through my ears. At least I know I have one. Deejay Doggie Dawgs is lowering the music. That means it is definitely show time. No turning back.
“Are y’all ready, girls?” Mrs. Bugge asks, sticking her head behind the curtain.
“Ready for Freddy!” Aqua quips. “Freddy Krueger, that is.”
Aqua loves her horror movies—and her horror-scope. I can’t help but laugh. Freddy is probably out there. And Aqua probably invited him.
“Kats and Kittys. It’s show time, and we have a very special treat for you tonight,” Mrs. Bugge announces to the crowd. “It’s Halloween. How many of you are scared out there?”
The crowd boos. She is so corny.
“Well, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m scared of the girls that I’m about to introduce you to. You may know them as Galleria Garibaldi, Chanel Simmons, Dorinda Rogers, and those singing twins from Houston, Aquanette and Anginette Walker, but tonight they are THE CHEETAH GIRLS, so give them a hand!”
I want to remember this night, forever. Absolutely forever. That is all I keep repeating to myself as the curtain goes up.
The strobe lights blind me in the face if I look too far back into the crowd. Now it is all about the beat. On three, we begin to sing, as if we’ve done this a hundred times—and the truth is, we have, in rehearsals.
“
Don’t lox me out the box, baby
,
because you’ll never know what side I’m buttered on.
My taste is sweet.
I can feel the heat
…”
The Kats and Kittys are live. They are clapping along to Kahlua’s song, and we are really getting into it. Everything is going just as we planned. They won’t stop clapping. We wait before we go into the next song, and I try not to look into the audience. There are too many people, and I will lose my concentration.
It’s time to sing “Welcome to the Glitterdome.” On this song, we are facing the curtain, then we are supposed to turn to sing from the side profile as the strobe lights flash on and off to imitate stars in the sky.
Even out of the corner of my eye I can see that Angie and Aqua are still seconds off from the dance cues. They don’t turn as fast as the rest of us do! I do not let this distract me, but I pray that no one notices.
Oh, I could just die, I’m thinking, when it’s Do’ Re Mi’s turn to take center stage and do her split. This is when I see people I know smiling at me. Kats and Kittys who live in Manhattan. They are all in the house!
I am smiling from ear to ear, then pouting on cue as the song goes along. My mike is going in and out, but I can hear a sound as distinct as the sweetest melody—it is the sound of Do’ Re Mi’s cat suit splitting. A sound I will never forget! She is giggling, and so is everyone else. The people closest to the stage are pointing and giggling at her. They not only heard it, but they saw it happen, too!
Bless her little heart, as Aqua would say. Do’ Re Mi keeps dancing, she doesn’t stop, but she cannot do the somersault at the top of “Wannabe Stars in the Jiggy Jungle” or everyone would see the split in her cat suit—and her leopard underpanties. “Go Cheetah Girls! Go Cheetah Girls!” the crowd is chanting.
By this point, me and Chuchie are laughing, but the show must go on. Everyone is clapping at us, and it doesn’t matter that Do’ Re Mi’s cat suit is split, or that Aqua and Angie don’t turn on the right cue. We did it! We did it!
The clapping doesn’t stop. “Wanna-be Stars in the Jiggy Jungle” is the song the audience loves best. We can tell by how hard they clap at the end. We take our bows, and lift our masks off, and throw kisses, just like we planned.
When the curtain comes down, we scream. “Oh, my gooseness, lickety splits!” Chanel shouts, grabbing Do’ Re Mi’s booty as we scramble into the dressing room.
“That’s what you get for showing off!”
When we get into the dressing room, Do’ Re Mi chews out Aqua and Angie. “Aqua, Angie, you two gotta turn faster when we do that pivot step. What were y’all thinking about?” Do’ Re Mi gets all bossy as she changes into her velvet leopard leggings. We stay in our costumes as planned and take our masks off. I’m sweating like crazy.
“We about to get paid, baby,” Chuchie yells.
“We don’t get our money till next week,” I call out.
Chanel sighs. “I know. I’m just sayin’.”
There is a knock on the door. “Go away. We’re not ready to come out!” I shout.
Mrs. Bugge sticks her head in the doorway anyway. “There is someone who wants to see you girls, so hurry on out.”
“It’s probably Batman!” Chanel quips.
“No, it’s the Joker.” Do’ Re Mi clowns, and spreads her lips.
“It’s the Penguin!” I snap. “And he wants to dance with me.” We all squeal and laugh.
“Seriously, though,” I finally say, “we’re gonna need more practice.”
“Yeah,” says Do’ Re Mi. “And I’m gonna need a bigger costume.”
“Oh, snapples!” Chanel giggles.
“You should have told my mom,” I say, trying to be nice to Do’ Re Mi, because I know she must feel bad. “She would have made you a bigger one.”
“I didn’t want to say anything,” Do’ Re Mi says softly.
“Why not?” I ask.
“You don’t understand,” she says, blinking back tears. “You’ll never know what it’s like to have to take everything that people give you just because you’re a foster child. Nobody ever made me anything before. I didn’t think I deserved it, and I didn’t want to screw it up. I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“That’s okay, baby Next time, you better open up that little mouth of yours and speak up!” Angie says.