Diva by Alex Flinn Read Free Book Online Page B

invisible.
    "Sorry," I say. "I told Gigi I'd sit with her."
    "Some other time, then."
    "Sure." I walk toward the cafeteria. Misty still hasn't noticed I'm there.

    I was expecting the cafeteria to be like the scene in this old movie, Fame , which I rented twenty times, then pretended I'd lost so Mom would have to buy it from Blockbuster. It's about the New York High City
    School for the Performing Arts (the real one, as Gigi would say). In the movie, one guy starts playing the piano, then people start singing, dancing, drumming, until it was a huge production number about "Hot
    Lunch."
    It's a little like that here, but not as organized. At one table, a group of art kids talk about "basic color principles" and use words like "chiaroscuro" with a brazen lack of fear of being beaten up. At another, some people look at sheet music and burst into song between bites of spaghetti.
    I picture lunch at my old school. Peyton and Ashley are wearing their cheerleader outfits, just so people
    know who they're dealing with. If I was there, maybe I'd be wearing one too—my friends wanted me to
    try out. They said they'd vote me on if I did. I wonder if there's a new girl sitting in my spot, wearing my
    uniform, maybe even flirting with my boyfriend ( ex -boyfriend). If I could, would I go back?
    "Caitlin, over here!"
    Gigi's gesturing me toward her table. I think about what my friends would say about her. But then she
    wouldn't care. She wouldn't like them either. I sit.
    "Having fun?" she says.
    "Yeah. You're probably used to this from your old school."
    A guy at the next table screams, "Fight for your manhood, you pathetic little vegetable!" I stare, startled, then realize they're reading a scene from a play.
    I take out my yogurt. "My old school was way different." I look from the acting guy to the artists. I know the answer to my question. I don't want to go back to my old school. But I wonder if I could ever fit in
    with people here. They're so… free. Can I ever be like that?
    "So, what'd you think of Drama?" Gigi asks.
    I shrug. "It's my first class. Are we going to do any actual acting in there?"
    "Actual acting?"
    "Like, you know, from a script?"
    "What? You're not so excited about coming in as your favorite animal?"
    I shake my head, massively relieved she isn't going to give me some lecture about how this stuff is acting.
    "I just was sort of hoping to learn to play people first."
    Gigi makes a scrunched up face. "I'm not a pug, but I play one on TV." She squints at my lunch. "You're actually going to eat that?"
    That's familiar, except my friends would like what I brought—nonfat yogurt and celery sticks. "What's
    wrong with it?"
    "Nothing if you're an insect. But how are you going to get through Dance class on that? Here." She hands me an oatmeal cookie from her tray.
    At the next table, someone starts some music, a sort of Latino fusion thing, really loud. A bunch of people
    start dancing a conga around the tables, and the guy named Gus actually gets on the table and reaches out to grab a girl to join them.
    I take Gigi's cookie. She's right about Dance class. I'll be taking Dance three days a week here, instead of
    blowing off P.E., so I don't think a single cookie is going to turn me into the Thing
    That Ate the Universe.
    I bite into it. I'm happier already.

    After lunch is Dance. I'm happy that leotards are stretchy so that mine fits even after the two cookies I ended up eating (I went and bought another one).
    "So where are you taking Dance?" Gigi asks while we're changing.
    "What do you mean?"
    "Like, where do you dance?" she repeats.
    "Here," I say.
    "No, but…" Gigi tugs on the strap of her silver leotard. "I mean, before this, where have you been taking?
    What's your studio?"
    "Oh." I look away, so she can't see me starting to redden. Gigi's the kind of girl who never blushes and would look down on mere mortals who do. "I never took Dance before this. I mean, I took ballet-tap when
    I was five or something, and