The Clique by Valerie Thomas Read Free Book Online Page B

hair. She has an athletic build: the strong legs of a dancer and broad shoulders of a gymnast.
                  “Yeah. Well, I worked too hard not to make the team,” Maddie says with a bravado she doesn’t feel. “So let’s just do really well.”
                  The older girl volunteers next, leaving Maddie and the freshman on the bench. She performs an interpretive routine packed with moves Maddie wouldn’t even try. Like a back handspring leading into a cartwheel. The whole thing looks dizzying; when the older girl finishes, she wobbles on her feet before taking a bow and walking for the door.
                  “Wait, stay here,” Mrs. Davis instructs. “I want you to stay in the bleachers while we watch the other performances.”
                  Maddie and the freshman lock eyes, each one mentally willing the other to go first. Maddie sighs, knowing that she ought to go. After all, she’s older, and presumably braver. I shouldn’t be such a wimp about it, she thinks . Worst that can happen is—I break an ankle or throw up or something. Yeah, that’s a comforting thought. “I’ll go next,” Maddie says.
                  “Great! Do you have music?”
                  “Of course.” Maddie plugs the connection cable in and cues her song.
                  Her interpretive dance is more emotional than athletic: instead of flips and spins, Maddie counts on the precision of her movements to secure a spot on the team. As she lowers herself into the final split, it looks like— Mrs. Davis isn’t even watching! She’s busily chatting with the older girl.
                  “Well, that’s everything,” Maddie says, followed by an awkward bow.
                  “You can stay too.” Mrs. Davis nods to a seat beside her. “Last one, here we go. Do you have music?”
                  The little girl shakes her head. She looks about twelve, with her hair tied in ponytails and a short frame. I bet she’s even shorter than Aude, Maddie thinks . “I didn’t know we had to have a song,” the freshman squeaks out.
                  “Oh. Well, that’s alright,” Mrs. Davis says. “You do have a routine, though?”
                  “Yes.”
                  “Go ahead, then.” The girl shows promise; although she trips once and her pointes aren’t exactly the cleanest, the routine is interesting. When she finishes, Mrs. Davis doesn’t bother asking her to stay.
                  She turns to Maddie and the older girl. “I was afraid this was going to happen. I’m terribly sorry, but it just doesn’t look like we have enough talent to fill three spots. I’ll make my decision by Friday, and tell you personally.”
                  “Thank you,” Maddie says. She and the older girl head out to the hall.
                  “So, if that freshman hadn’t screwed everything up for us—“ the senior says.
                  “Yeah, we could’ve all been on the squad.”
                  “Yup. I’m Bella, by the way.”
                  “Maddie.”
                  “Nice to meet you.” Bella looks down at her shoes. “You were amazing back there. Like a professional.”
                  “Thanks. You too! I couldn’t do half of what you did.”
                  “Oh, that.” Bella shrugs. “I was a JV Pom my freshman and sophomore year, but I got bored of it. So I took a year off, and now I’m gonna be a Patriot. Well, hopefully. Not that—I mean, I don’t wanna take your spot.”
                  The way she says it, like she already knows the spot’s hers, irks Maddie. “And I don’t wanna take yours,” she replies in the exact same tone.
                  Bella grins. “Let’s just agree that whoever gets in, the