Panic by Sharon M. Draper Read Free Book Online

doing.’ ”
    â€”from Peter Pan
    Layla sat on the floor in costume and makeup, waiting for the others for the pre-performance activities that Miss Ginger insisted on. First practice. Then pep talk and prayer.
    Mercedes slipped into the tiny room and sat beside her, stretching a little.
    â€œYou okay?” Layla asked.
    â€œTalking to the cops freaked me out,” Mercedes confessed. “How am I supposed to dance after that?”
    Layla met her eyes. “I don’t know if Diamond is kidnapped or at a party with movie stars. But somehow I’m not feeling a party.” She spritzed more hair spray on her wayward curls.
    â€œYeah, me neither,” Mercedes admitted. “I got this bad feeling. Damn it! I never should have let her go to the food court alone.”
    â€œHey, you can’t swallow this blame,” Layla told her. “That mall is like our second home. There was no way you could have guessed something bad would happen.”
    â€œYeah, I know, but I still feel responsible. I didn’t need that new leotard! We shoulda stayed together. If I had just . . . ”
    Trying to distract her, Layla asked, “Did Steve bring your candy?”
    Mercedes looked up and gave a small smile. “Yeah. He’s my sweet-talkin’, sugar-coated candy man,” she said, humming an old Christina Aguilera song. “He brings me candy to every show.”
    â€œÂ â€˜Candyman’ is one of Diamond’s favorites,” Layla mused, smoothing the lines of her costume. “Her mom must be losing it. Diamond is so gonna be on punishment—probably till she dies!”
    Mercedes sucked in her breath. “Don’t say that word, girl!” She retightened the ribbons on her pointe shoes. “I’m sorry—I’m being crazy. Is your mom coming tonight?”
    â€œI hope so. Sometimes she has to do double shifts atthe diner. It’s all right if she misses this one.” Layla said it breezily, but a tinge of sadness edged her voice. “She’s got my back most of the time.”
    â€œYeah, that’s usually my dad, too. He rolls up ten seconds before the curtain rises, pulling up late in his big, loud diesel truck. I think he loves that truck more than me!”
    â€œNot a chance. I’ve seen how your father looks when you’re dancing, Mercedes. Like you’re some kind of magical Disney princess,” Layla said, unable to keep a touch of envy from her voice.
    â€œHah! I hope not. Those Disney girls have, like, teninch waistlines. How do they breathe?” Mercedes asked.
    â€œThey’re cartoons!”
    â€œDuh.”
    Both girls laughed, then Layla said softly, “I wish my dad could see me dance.”
    â€œHow long has it been?” Mercedes asked carefully.
    â€œSix years now. He got sent away when I was ten. I should be used to him being gone, but it still sucks.”
    â€œDoes dancing help?” Mercedes asked.
    â€œIt totally saved me. It was my dad who found Miss Ginger’s when I was in first grade; he’s the one who convinced my mom to let me try out the classes. It’s like somehow he knew that dancing made me feel real.”
    â€œDeep.”
    â€œHe used to wait in the parking lot every night until I finished class.”
    â€œI remember! Sometimes you guys would give me a ride home. Didn’t he always have a strawberry smoothie waiting in the cup holder for you?”
    â€œYep.” Layla tried to smile, remembering. “He never missed a pickup. He never missed a show. And then he was gone.”
    â€œDo you want to talk about it?” Mercedes asked. Other dancers were beginning to trickle in, stretching, talking quietly, preparing mentally.
    â€œNot really. We’ve got enough drama going on tonight.”
    â€œTrue that,” Mercedes agreed.
    Still, as she stretched, Layla found herself thinking more about her dad. She had never found out