Read Online Dance-off! by Harriet Castor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Harriet Castor
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and Sean would go for? They’re bound to win!”
“It’s not good,” agreed Lyndz. “Not good at all. Rosie, that’s what their secret weapon must’ve been – those ballet shoes.”
“I guess,” I said gloomily.
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” said Frankie. “And it’s a good job we didn’t decide on a ballet routine ourselves. We would’ve been relying on you, Fliss, so we would’ve been in a right fix now.”
“We’ll just have to stick to our routine,” said Kenny.
When the M&Ms had finished, Lyndz opened the door and we went into the classroom. We heard Mrs Weaver saying, “Emma, are you really sure you know how to dance in those shoes?”
“Oh yes , Mrs Weaver,” Emma replied, with a smug glance in our direction. “I go to lessons, you know.”
It was a useful trial run, doing the routine in front of Mrs Weaver. It went quite well, though I bumped into Kenny at one point, which made her forget the steps. Mrs Weaver thought Fliss was brave to be taking part.
“And I like the hand-jive, Felicity,” she said. “It’s very catchy!” As she said this she tried to copy some of the movements, but she got them hopelessly wrong. I didn’t dare look at the others. I knew if I made eye contact with any of them I’d burst out laughing.
“Were we fantastic or what?” said Frankie in the changing room afterwards. “Weaver loved it! We just need to do the same tomorrow and we’ll definitely win.”
“Tomorrow’s the scary part,” I said. The thought of dancing in front of Lorna and Sean made me really nervous. They were such cool dancers themselves, I couldn’t imagine they’d do anything but laugh at us.
The next morning the whole school was buzzing with excitement about the party. First thing after Assembly, our class and Mr Pownall’s class joined forces to decorate the hall. Mr Pownall and Mrs Weaver climbed great big step-ladders and strung banners from the ceiling which said:
They hung up the lanterns we’d made in Art, too, while we covered every inch of wall space we could reach with the paintings and collages people had made.
“Those lanterns look so excellent from a distance!” said Frankie. “You’d never guess they’re made of sweet wrappers and tin foil.”
Meanwhile, other classes were helping set up trestle tables round the edges of the room and covering them with big tablecloths. Plates of yummy things like flapjacks, fairy cakes, chocolate brownies and muffins were starting to appear.
“Oooh, what a shame they’re all covered in clingfilm,” said Lyndz, who was practically drooling even though it wasn’t long past breakfast time. “I’d love to sneak a taste.”
I nodded. But to tell you the truth, I couldn’t have eaten a thing, even if you’d wafted the gooiest chocolate cake in the world under my nose. My stomach felt like it was trying to tie knots in itself, and my teeth were chattering, though I had my cardie on and I wasn’t cold.
“What time’s the competition?” I said to Kenny.
“Eleven,” she replied, breaking off a piece of Sellotape with her teeth. “You asked me that five minutes ago!”
“I think I’ll go to the loo again,” I said. That was the other effect nerves were having on me!
At eleven o’clock our whole class was sitting cross-legged in the hall (except for Fliss, of course, who was on a chair with her Christmas-tree leg stuck out in front of her). There were so many different sorts of costumes, it looked like we’d raided a fancy dress shop. Ryan Scott and three of his friends had gone for the RnB look, with low-slung baggy jeans, long-sleeved tops, and baseball caps. One group were all in dark glasses, and there was someone dressed up as Woody from Toy Story (“Weird!”, as Frankie said). The M&Ms and Alana had leotards on, and wafty chiffon skirts, which I spotted Fliss eyeing enviously.
But, don’t worry: no one outdid the Sleepoverbabes. As well as my purple T-shirt and pink skirt,
“It’s not good,” agreed Lyndz. “Not good at all. Rosie, that’s what their secret weapon must’ve been – those ballet shoes.”
“I guess,” I said gloomily.
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” said Frankie. “And it’s a good job we didn’t decide on a ballet routine ourselves. We would’ve been relying on you, Fliss, so we would’ve been in a right fix now.”
“We’ll just have to stick to our routine,” said Kenny.
When the M&Ms had finished, Lyndz opened the door and we went into the classroom. We heard Mrs Weaver saying, “Emma, are you really sure you know how to dance in those shoes?”
“Oh yes , Mrs Weaver,” Emma replied, with a smug glance in our direction. “I go to lessons, you know.”
It was a useful trial run, doing the routine in front of Mrs Weaver. It went quite well, though I bumped into Kenny at one point, which made her forget the steps. Mrs Weaver thought Fliss was brave to be taking part.
“And I like the hand-jive, Felicity,” she said. “It’s very catchy!” As she said this she tried to copy some of the movements, but she got them hopelessly wrong. I didn’t dare look at the others. I knew if I made eye contact with any of them I’d burst out laughing.
“Were we fantastic or what?” said Frankie in the changing room afterwards. “Weaver loved it! We just need to do the same tomorrow and we’ll definitely win.”
“Tomorrow’s the scary part,” I said. The thought of dancing in front of Lorna and Sean made me really nervous. They were such cool dancers themselves, I couldn’t imagine they’d do anything but laugh at us.
The next morning the whole school was buzzing with excitement about the party. First thing after Assembly, our class and Mr Pownall’s class joined forces to decorate the hall. Mr Pownall and Mrs Weaver climbed great big step-ladders and strung banners from the ceiling which said:
They hung up the lanterns we’d made in Art, too, while we covered every inch of wall space we could reach with the paintings and collages people had made.
“Those lanterns look so excellent from a distance!” said Frankie. “You’d never guess they’re made of sweet wrappers and tin foil.”
Meanwhile, other classes were helping set up trestle tables round the edges of the room and covering them with big tablecloths. Plates of yummy things like flapjacks, fairy cakes, chocolate brownies and muffins were starting to appear.
“Oooh, what a shame they’re all covered in clingfilm,” said Lyndz, who was practically drooling even though it wasn’t long past breakfast time. “I’d love to sneak a taste.”
I nodded. But to tell you the truth, I couldn’t have eaten a thing, even if you’d wafted the gooiest chocolate cake in the world under my nose. My stomach felt like it was trying to tie knots in itself, and my teeth were chattering, though I had my cardie on and I wasn’t cold.
“What time’s the competition?” I said to Kenny.
“Eleven,” she replied, breaking off a piece of Sellotape with her teeth. “You asked me that five minutes ago!”
“I think I’ll go to the loo again,” I said. That was the other effect nerves were having on me!
At eleven o’clock our whole class was sitting cross-legged in the hall (except for Fliss, of course, who was on a chair with her Christmas-tree leg stuck out in front of her). There were so many different sorts of costumes, it looked like we’d raided a fancy dress shop. Ryan Scott and three of his friends had gone for the RnB look, with low-slung baggy jeans, long-sleeved tops, and baseball caps. One group were all in dark glasses, and there was someone dressed up as Woody from Toy Story (“Weird!”, as Frankie said). The M&Ms and Alana had leotards on, and wafty chiffon skirts, which I spotted Fliss eyeing enviously.
But, don’t worry: no one outdid the Sleepoverbabes. As well as my purple T-shirt and pink skirt,
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