Shimmy by Kari Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

When Robin and Alex catch up with me outside, I say, “What do you think about Bea’s brother, Jonas? He’s in my English class.”
    “H. O. T.,” says Alex, and just like that, we’re talking about boys. We slow down as we go over all the boys in our grade, and by the time we get back to school, I’m feeling more relaxed than I have all day.

Twelve
    B ut no matter what Robin and Alex or anyone else says, I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to be one of the girls who gets cut. It’s all I think about during math and socials, and even on the bus ride home when Nini and Sarit try to get me to talk about Mrs. O’Connor, I agree with them without really listening to what they’re saying.
    There’s no dance class this afternoon, so I get on my bike and ride around thinking. Right now things aren’t great. I know I’ve failed my English test, and I haven’t handed in my essay yet, and I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in at least a week, and I’m probably going to get cut from Dana’s troupe. I bike around for a while until I find myself at Angela’s door. I didn’t plan it; I just ended up here. Of all the things worrying me right now, the one I hate the most is being in a fight with Angela. It’s even worse than not knowing what’s going to happen with dance.
    Angela’s mom opens the door before I have a chance to knock. Her hair’s coming loose from its bun, and there’s a big chocolate smear across her left cheek.
    “We’re making brownies,” she says, and we both break into laughter because for years and years we’ve had a joke that I can smell her brownies from my house and come running. My legs knew bringing me here was the best thing for me, even if my brain didn’t.
    “Hi, Lila,” Angela says when I follow her mother into the kitchen. I sit in my usual chair and Angela’s mom hands me a spoon to lick. The chocolaty goodness fills my mouth, and when I’m done I stand next to Angela’s mom and try to stick my finger into the mixture. She smacks my hand away playfully.
    “So what’s up these days, Lila?” Angela’s mom asks.
    “Lila’s dancing with Dana, Mom, remember?” Angela says.
    I nod, and Angela’s mom says, “I know, but how’s it going? Are you enjoying it? Don’t you miss Amala and the girls?”
    “Dana’s very professional, and Lila’s learning a lot,” Angela says. She flashes me a huge smile when she says this. There’s no trace of jealousy or sarcasm in her voice, and I realize all at once that Angela is truly pleased for me. Even though I’ve been selfish, she really does want me to succeed.
    Tears form in my eyes.
    “Lila?” Angela’s mom says. She puts down her spoon and runs her hands over my hair as she pulls me into a hug. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
    “I’m not sure about it. I mean, about the class, about Dana, about any of it.”
    “I thought you loved how professional Dana is,” Angela says.
    “I did. I do. I don’t know. I did, but then Bea quit because Dana rides her so hard. She’s a good dancer—Bea, I mean—but Dana pushed her so hard that she was nervous all the time, so she made mistakes. And I always loved how Dana would correct every tiny bit of movement, because I thought she was helping us, but now I don’t know.” The words tumble out of my mouth.
    “Isn’t she helping?” Angela’s mom asks.
    I shake my head. “I don’t know what she wants. I mean, we work so hard. I know for a fact that Bea practiced way more than anyone else, and Dana tells her she isn’t applying herself. What does she want? We can’t quit school and dance full time.”
    “Does she do that to you too?” Angela’s mom asks.
    I let out a deep breath. “Yeah, sometimes.”
    “So you feel like you’re being criticized, not helped?”
    “I’m starting to.” There. I’ve said it.
    Angela’s mom turns back to the bowl and stirs again. After a couple of fast swirls she pours the mixture into the pans waiting on the counter. When the