Read Online Bust a Move by Jasmine Beller - Free Book Online

the heating pad had made little droplets of sweat pop out around Emerson’s hairline and on her upper lip. “Maybe a little better. I really want to dance tonight,” Emerson answered, hoping she wasn’t going too far.
    â€œI know it’s disappointing, baby. But I don’t think there can be any dancing for you tonight. You’re clearly feverish. We don’t want you to faint onstage. I’ll call your teacher and explain.”
    â€œNo!” Emerson exclaimed. Her mother raised her eyebrows.
    Emerson hadn’t put the possibility of a call to her ballet teacher into the plan. Of course her mom would want to call Rosemary.
    â€œNo, I’ll do it,” Emerson said slowly, to give herself time to think. “Rosemary is probably already at the recital hall. She’ll only be answering her cell—” And Mom has that number, she remembered, too late. “And she has a new cell number. I forgot to give it to you. I have it in my dance bag—I can call from up here.”
    â€œAll right. I’ll call and cancel the dinner reservation.” Her mother turned for the door.
    â€œDon’t do that.” Emerson was careful to keep her voice low and calm this time. “You all still have to eat, even though I’m sick. I’ll probably fall asleep about five minutes after I call Rosemary anyway.”
    Her mother turned around and studied her face. “It is one of Mrs. Petersen’s late nights. I could make sure that she’s here until we get back.”
    â€œYou should go. Really.” Really, really, really, Emerson silently added.
    â€œAll right, but I’ll have my cell. And of course your dad will have his BlackBerry. You call us if you need us. And I’ll make sure Mrs. Petersen has the doctor’s number, too, just in case.”
    â€œOkay, Mom. I’ll be fine,” Emerson said. She knew her mother would do at least one more check before she left. As it turned out, both her parents came in. Emerson acted really sleepy—even though her heart was doing wall flips off her ribs—sleepy enough that they left without saying much or doing a fever check.
    As soon as she heard the car doors closing, Emerson crept over to the window and watched from behind the curtain until she saw her parents and grandparents drive off. Then she leaped into the next part of the plan. She used a rolled-up blanket to make an Emerson-ish body under the duvet, and she stuck her old Barbie Beauty Salon head on the pillow facedown. The head was a little smaller than her own head, but its blond hair was about the same color as Emerson’s. If Mrs. Petersen just did a quick check, it would probably pass.
    Now my backpack. Emerson wanted to double-check that she’d put in everything she’d need for the competition. But there wasn’t time. She put on the pack and slid open her window. Her room was only on the second floor, but the ground looked very far away. And the trellis didn’t look as sturdy as it had when she’d come up with the plan. Right now, it looked strong enough to hold up the honeysuckle vines that climbed it but not much else.
    I could try going down the stairs like a sane person, she thought. But Mrs. Petersen really did have superhero hearing. Emerson glanced at her watch. She didn’t have much time. The taxi would be waiting one house down. If she didn’t show up soon, it would leave. She hadn’t wanted to take more money out of her bank account for the cab. But driving was the only way—other than by boat—to get from the island over to Miami Beach. No bus. No train. No public transportation of any kind.
    Just stick to the plan you decided on, Emerson ordered herself. She turned around and climbed backward out of the window and onto the trellis. The slender pieces of crisscrossing wood trembled along with her shaking body.
    Keep climbing or start falling. Those are your choices.
    Emerson kept