Jessi And The Dance School Phantom Part 1

Jessi and the Dance School Phantom.

Martin, Ann M.

Chapter 1.

And now, mademoiselles, if you please: a pas de bourree couru, en cinquieme, with port de bras, ending in an arabesque. One at a time, please . . . and begin!" Mme Noelle banged her stick on the floor to emphasize her words.

A stranger might have thought they'd wandered into some other world - and in a way, they'd be right. A ballet studio is another world - a world where movement is everything, and where words are shorthand for what our bodies should be doing.

Pah deh boure-ay koo-roo? On sank-eeyem? With por deh brah? And an ara-besk? Sounds crazy, but what Mme Noelle, our teacher, wanted us to do was to move on our toes across the floor, holding our arms in graceful patterns, and end by standing on one toe with our arms held out to the sides. That's what all those words meant. They're French.

I don't speak French, but I know those words, and a lot of others, because French is the language of ballet, and I've been studying ballet since I was four. I'm eleven now, so that's a long time! "Jessica Romsey, please take your turn!" said Mme Noelle.

Jessica Romsey, that's me. Except most people call me Jessi, and my last name's Ramsey, not Romsey. It's just that elegant accent of Mme Noelle's; everything comes out sounding kind of - well, kind of fancy.

I closed my eyes for a second, picturing what I was about to do. I wanted to do the best pas de bourree I'd ever done. Why? Because this was the final stage in the final auditions for a big production that was going to be put on by my ballet school. We were going to be putting on The Sleeping Beauty. And I was trying out for the lead! I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and rose onto my toes. Then I began. I was so focused that I was hardly aware of Mme Noelle's attention, but I knew she was watching every single muscle in my body, checking to make sure that I was in complete control.

Normally, as I bourree'd past her, Madame would be making comments like, "Long neck, Mademoiselle Romsey!" or, "Use zee onkles!" (That's "ankles," just in case you were wondering.) But this wasn't a cla.s.s. This was an audition. And I was on my own.

I finished the bourree and went into an arabesque, stretching my arms gracefully (I hoped). Then I clomped off the stage area, my toe shoes clacking with every step.

I watched the other girls do what I'd done, one at a time. There are a lot of good dancers in my cla.s.s, which makes sense - it is, after all, an advanced cla.s.s. Take Mary Bramstedt, for example. Right then she was bourree-ing across the floor, in perfect form. She always seems to be in perfect form. But I think (and this is just my personal opinion - I'd never say it out loud) that there's something missing when she dances. Something like - I know this might sound really silly but - pa.s.sion. She's kind of like a robot, you know?

I don't think anyone could mistake me for a robot - and not just because I'm not always in perfect form. As far as I know, there aren't too many black robots running around - in fact, there are probably even fewer black robots than there are black ballerinas.

Luckily, there are a few black ballerinas now. Twenty years ago, there weren't any. And someone like me, with skin the color of cocoa and eyes like coal, could never have dreamed of joining a ballet company. But now I can dream. And it makes me glad, because I absolutely, positively love to dance.

So does Carrie Steinfeld, and it was showing as she did her bourree. She's a great dancer - one of the best in the cla.s.s. She's also one of the oldest students in the cla.s.s, and she'll be graduating soon. This might be her last chance to get a starring role in a production - a role that would really give her an edge if she could add it to her resume.

Without having had a role like Princess Aurora, the leading part in The Sleeping Beauty, Carrie might have a hard time getting into another dance school for older students. And she'd have hardly any chance at all of joining a ballet company. The ballet world is very compet.i.tive.

"Very nice, Mademoiselle Steinfeld," said Mme Noelle, I bit my lip. She hadn't said anything when I finished my bourree. I tried not to worry about it. It might not mean a thing, after all.

I found Mme Noelle very intimidating when I first joined this school, back when my family moved to Stoneybrook, Connecticut. That was not too long ago, when my dad was transferred to the Stamford office of his firm. The move was tough on the whole family.

It was tough for the usual reasons - leaving friends and family, coming to a strange new place - but there were other reasons that made it even worse. The neighborhood we used to live in, in New Jersey, was completely integrated. So were the schools. But in Stoneybrook, it's different. Here there are very few black families. People just weren't used id seeing black faces - and they didn't make us feel too welcome. In fact, it was the opposite.

But over time, we've all made friends in Stoneybrook, and our lives have settled down. I'd have to say that my family is pretty happy here now. And for me, one of the best parts of the move was getting into this dance school. The school isn't actually in Stoneybrook - it's in Stamford, where my dad's office is. It's one of the best on the East Coast - if you don't count the really big ones in New York City. And Mme Noelle is known throughout the ballet community as an excellent teacher. I don't find her quite so intimidating anymore.

I looked up to see that Katie Beth Parsons had just finished her routine. She looked pretty happy with herself, but then she usually does. She's kind of one of Madame's pets - she has been since she was the youngest member of the cla.s.s when she joined it. Now that I've joined, she isn't the youngest anymore (she's twelve), but she's still a favorite of Madame's.

"Nice work, Katie Beth," I said as she came off the stage.

She looked at me suspiciously. "Thanks," she said, as if she weren't sure whether or not I meant the compliment. Katie Beth and I have not always been the best of friends - in fact, there have been times when we were downright enemies - but we've been getting along pretty well lately. Still, the atmosphere at most auditions isn't the friendliest.

Katie Beth pulled at the elastic of her leotard as she stood next to me, watching the rest of the students complete the routine. "I hate this stupid thing," she said. "I wish we could wear whatever we wanted instead of these." We were all wearing the exact same, outfits: a black leotard with pink tights. It's kind of like the uniform for my cla.s.s. I could just imagine the scene if we were allowed to wear anything: There'd be so much neon in the place that it would look like Times Square. I myself don't really mind having to wear the same thing to each cla.s.s - in fact, it's good to have one less thing to decide on as I pack my dance bag.

And it's not as if we can't express our individuality. There's room for that in how we each decide to do our hair. The only requirement is that it be "off zee face," as Mme Noelle puts it. I like to wrap mine into a tight bun or to braid it. Carrie usually has some kind of ponytail on the side of her head. And Hilary - well, Hilary's a whole different story.

SI, Hilary Morgan always has the best of everything. A brand-new leotard every few weeks. New toe shoes as often as she needs them. (The rest of us have to make them last - toe shoes are awfully expensive.) And she doesn't do her own hair - she gets it -"done" in a very fancy French braid a few times a week.

It's not that Hilary's family is all that rich (although they're certainly not poor). It's just that Hilary's career as a dancer is top priority with her mom. See, Mrs. Morgan used to be a ballet dancer herself, but she gave up her career to have a family. As I understand it (from what I've overheard in the dressing room) she's one of the worst "stage mothers" in the history of the school. She really pushes Hilary all the time; I know because I've seen her do it. She actually sits and watches our entire two-hour cla.s.s sometimes! Luckily, she wasn't watching that day - we didn't need any distractions. I don't think Mme Noelle would have tolerated a visitor during auditions anyway.

All of a sudden, I noticed that the last dancers had finished. Auditions were over. Mme Noelle called us all out onto the stage. She looked us up and down without saying a word. Then she smiled.

"All of my mademoiselles have done very, very well today," she said. "But only one can be zee Princess Aurora." Suddenly she clapped her hands three times. "Go now!" she said. "Change zee clothes. When you are ready, come back. I will give my decision zen." We all scurried into the dressing room and raced to be the first out of our leotards. Everybody was talking at once, asking the others how they'd looked as they performed.

"Did you notice when I shook on the arabesque!" asked Lisa Jones, as she pulled on an oversized sweat s.h.i.+rt. I like Lisa, but sometimes she worries too much about her performance in cla.s.s.

I shook my head. "Sorry, but I wasn't paying that much attention," I said. "I think I was on Mars for awhile there." That's what it had felt like - I'd been concentrating so hard that I felt like I'd been on a different planet.

"I thought I'd die by the time I bourree'd across that whole huge stage," said Hilary. "It's not fair that the stage is so much bigger than our usual studio." "Sure it's fair," said Carrie. "We all have to do the same thing on the same stage, don't we?" "I guess," said Hilary. But she didn't sound convinced.

I stuffed my leotard and tights into my dance bag, and then carefully wrapped the ribbons around my toe shoes and laid them on top.

You have to take very good care of them, otherwise they won't last.

"I just hope Madame noticed how much I've been working on my arm movements," said Carrie. She stuffed her toe shoes into her bag, got up, and left the dressing room.

"Actually, she better hope that Madame didn't notice she's completely over the hill," said Hilary, giggling.

Over the hill! It was true that Carrie was one of the oldest students in cla.s.s, but really! She's only a few years older than me! Ballet may look like a graceful, dainty world - but it's not. It's as tough and compet.i.tive as any sport. I could have spoken up in Carrie's defense, but I held my tongue. I don't like to get into any of the gossip and backbiting that often goes on in the dressing room.

Hilary looked in the mirror and patted her still perfectly braided hair. "I'm just dying to dance Princess Aurora," she said. "What a great part." Then she spun on her heel and headed out of the. room.

"The rest of us just better pray that she doesn't get that part," said Katie Beth. "If she does, we'll have to put up with Mrs. Morgan practically sitting in our laps during every rehearsal!" "I know," said Lisa. "I think Hilary's mom would dance the part for her, if she could." I shook my head and kept quiet. Everybody was being pretty catty that day. I guess the auditions brought it out.

Finally we were all finished changing. We sat in a semicircle on the floor of the dance studio, facing Mme Noelle. She was seated on a chair, and she looked very serious.

"Zee Sleeping Beauty is one of zee most beautiful ballets in zee world," she began. "To perform in it is a privilege, no matter how small zee role." Right. But none of us wanted "zee small roles." We all wanted the lead.

"To begin," said Mme Noelle, "zee part of zee Lilac Fairy will be donced by Lisa Jones." Lisa smiled. I don't think she had really expected to get the lead. The Lilac Fairy is a pretty good role, and she looked happy to get it.

"Next," said Mme Noelle, "zee part of zee Bluebird of Happiness." That part is usually played by a man, but it sounded like someone from our cla.s.s would be playing it instead. There aren't too many boys in the school - and there are none in our cla.s.s. "Zis will be donced by Carrie Steinfeld." Carrie let out a breath, then pressed her lips together and tried to smile at Mme Noelle. "Thank you," she said. "I know that the Blue- bird's pas de deux is famous. I will try to do it justice." I had to hand it to her - she handled the disappointment well.

"And now," said Mme Noelle, "I will tell zee news you are all waiting for." She paused. "Zere is only one student in zis cla.s.s who has zee talent and zee je ne sais quois to bring zee role of Princess Aurora to life." Zhuh-nuh-seh-kwah? What on earth did that mean? I'd never heard the expression before.

"Zat student is Mademoiselle Romsey," finished Mme Noelle.

I was still trying to figure out what she meant, and I didn't really hear my name. The next thing I knew, Lisa was giving me a quick hug. "All right, Jessi," she said. "You did it again!" She seemed genuinely happy for me.

"Congratulations," said Katie Beth sort of halfheartedly. I smiled vaguely. It still hadn't sunk in that I had won the role. That meant that I had gotten yet another lead in a production! I'd loved dancing in Swan Lake. And playing Swanilda in Coppelia had been pretty incredible. But the Princess Aurora! It was the role of a lifetime.

When I finally came to my senses, I was alone in the room. Except for Mme Noelle. She was smiling gently at me. "Congratulations, Jessica," she said. "You earned zee part." "Thank you, Madame," I said, blus.h.i.+ng. "But there's one thing I want to know. What does 'zhuh-nuh-seh-kwah' mean?" "It simply means 'zat certain something' - zat indescribable feeling," she answered. "And you, my mademoiselle, possess it." I blushed again. Then I thanked her once more, said good-bye, and ran out to wait for my ride home.

Hilary Morgan's mother pulled up just as I reached the outside stairs, where we all wait for our parents. Hilary started to walk toward the car, looking like she was headed for a funeral.

"Did you get the lead?" called Mrs. Morgan loudly.

Hilary shook her head. I saw Mrs. Morgan frown and heard her start to lecture as Hilary got into the car. "Didn't I tell you . . ." she began.

I turned away - I just couldn't listen to any more. Part of me almost wished that Hilary had gotten the part. Poor Hilary. But - I have to admit it - a bigger part of me was so happy I could hardly stand it. "Princess Aurora," I said to myself softly. "Princess Aurora."

Chapter 2.

After Hilary left, I sat down to wait for my dad. I was still in a state of shock about getting the lead, but I thought that - just for fun - I'd play it cool with him.

Pretty soon, Daddy pulled up in front of the steps. I opened the car door and slid in, throwing my dance bag onto the backseat.

"Hi, baby!" he said, giving me a kiss. He started the car, and I saw him looking at me out of the corner of his eye as he pulled into traffic. He was being careful not to be pushy - but I could tell he was dying to know how the auditions had gone. "How did it go?" he asked casually.

"Pretty well," I answered, just as casually. "I mean, okay, I guess." I was bursting with holding it in for a little while.

We'd only gone about three blocks before I couldn't stand it anymore. "Daddy!" I said. "I did it! I'm Aurora!" He turned to grin at me. "All right!" he said, holding up his hand for a high five. "I knew you could do it." A horn honked, and Daddy straightened out the car.

"I want to hear all about it," he said, "but let's wait till we're home, so you can tell everybody all at once." Then he pulled the car over to the curb and turned off the engine. "Wait here," he said. "I'm going to run into the store for some ice cream. We've got something to celebrate tonight!" The minute we pulled into our driveway, Becca came running out of the front door. "Did you get a part?" she asked excitedly. Mama was right behind her, carrying Squirt. Aunt Cecelia stood in the doorway, holding a dishcloth.

Becca is my little sister. She's eight and a half, and she's a pretty great kid, even if she does drive me up the wall sometimes. She's really bright, and she has a great imagination. Becca loves to come and see me in my productions. In fact, she'd probably like to be in one herself - except for one thing. Becca has the worst case of stage fright I've ever seen.

Squirt, who was now looking at me and saying, "Buh!" with a big smile on his face, is just a toddler. Squirt's not his real name, of course. His real name is John Philip Ramsey, Jr. - but Squirt suits him much better. He was named that by the nurses at the hospital where he was born, because he was the smallest baby there. He only weighed five pounds, eight ounces back then! Now he's a big lug - a big, squirmy lug, who was doing his best to get out of Mama's arms.

"I'll take him," I said. "C'mere, Squirt-man." I took him from Mama and balanced him on my hip. I smiled at him. "How does it feel to be carried by a princess?" I asked.

Mama gasped. "You got the role?" she asked.

"Yup," I answered. "Princess Aurora, at your service." Becca was all over me, shrieking and smacking my arm.

"Okay, Becca," said Aunt Cecelia. "Let's let the princess come in and have her dinner." Aunt Cecelia likes to try to keep things calm. She's Daddy's older sister, and she came to live with us not long ago, when Mama decided to go back to work and realized she'd need help with Squirt in order to do that.

At first, having Aunt Cecelia live with us seemed like a big mistake. Becca and I thought she was too strict and too mean. She treated us like babies. But she learned to give us some credit for being able to take care of ourselves - and we learned to like her better. Now we're glad she's here.

At dinner, I filled my family in on the details of the audition. And over ice cream (I had a tiny bit, even though I really have to watch what I eat, especially when we're preparing a performance) I told them all about The Sleeping Beauty.

"You all know the story," I said. "It's just like the fairy tale. It starts with the christening of the baby Princess Aurora. All the fairies do beautiful dances as they present their gifts." "Then the bad fairy comes, right?" asked Becca.

"That's right. The funny thing is that the bad fairy is usually played by a man in a wig," I said. "Anyway, the bad fairy puts a curse on the baby, telling her that she will p.r.i.c.k her finger and die on her sixteenth birthday. A good fairy, called the Lilac Fairy, can't get rid of the curse. But she at least makes it so that Aurora will sleep for a hundred years instead of die." "Then what happens?" asked Daddy. I guess he doesn't remember fairy tales as well as the rest of us.

"Well, I come on stage in the next act, which is my sixteenth birthday party. Four princes present me with roses, and I do this gorgeous slow dance called the 'Rose Adagio.' It's really hard. Then the bad witch, in disguise, sneaks into the party and hands me a spindle for making yarn and I p.r.i.c.k my finger on it and fall into a deep sleep.

"A hundred years later," I went on, "this prince is looking for me. He sees a vision of me - which is really me, of course - and we dance together. Then the prince tries to find me, and when he finally does, he kisses me - " "Ew!" interrupted Becca. "Do you really have to kiss a boy? I'd rather kiss Misty any day!" Misty is our pet hamster.

I ignored her. " - and I wake up, and then there's the wedding, where I dance with all these different fairy-tale characters, like the Bluebird of Happiness. I don't really know what that has to do with the plot, but it's a great dance. And then I dance with the prince again at the very end." I was exhausted just thinking about it.

"It sounds like a beautiful ballet," said Mama.

"It is," I said. "And you should hear the music. It's by Tchaikovsky, the same composer who wrote the music for Swan Lake." After dinner, I headed upstairs (Mama said I could be excused from table clearing and dish was.h.i.+ng, since it was a special night) to call Mallory. I couldn't wait to tell her my news, and I knew she'd spread it around to our friends.

Who is Mallory? Maybe I should tell you about her - and about my other friends, too.

Mallory Pike is my best friend, and the first friend I made when my family moved to Stoneybrook. She's terrific. She's smart and funny, and we have great times together. We both love to read - especially horse stories, like Misty of Chincoteague - but Mal also likes to write. Someday she hopes to be a writer and ill.u.s.trator of children's books, which I think is a neat idea.

Part of what makes Mallory fun is that she's easygoing and doesn't get fazed by much. I think that's because she comes from a huge - and I mean huge - family. Mallory is eleven like me, and she has seven little brothers and sisters! Three of them are triplets, believe it or not. Their names are Adam, Jordan, and Byron, and they're ten. Then comes Vanessa - she's nine - and Nicky, who's eight, followed by Margo, who's seven. The baby of the family is Claire. She's five. The Pike household is never boring. Actually, I think that Mal sometimes envies my (relatively) quiet family. She doesn't get much private time.

Even though she's the oldest, Mallory feels that her parents still treat her like a kid. (I can relate to that!) She had to work really hard on her parents - just like I did - to convince them to let her get her ears pierced. Her next project is to get contacts, but I think that's a long way off. With her red hair and freckles, and her gla.s.ses and her braces, Mal has a hard time feeling glamorous - even with pierced ears. But you know what? I bet she's going to be a real knockout someday. She just has to be patient. (I should talk. I'm as impatient as she is.) When I first moved to Stoneybrook, I felt so lonely. I'd just left my best friend, Keisha (who also happens to be my cousin), and I wondered if I'd ever find another best friend. But as it turned out, I not only found Mallory, which was great, but a whole bunch of other friends. These friends are all very different from each other, but they have one thing in common. They love baby-sitting, just like I do. And that's why they formed the Baby-sitters Club. I'm lucky to be a member and to have them all as friends. Mallory and I are the youngest in the club, by the way. Everyone else is thirteen.

Kristy Thomas is the president of the BSC. She's something else. When I first met Kristy, I was a little intimidated - she's very straightforward (sometimes she's even got a big mouth) and energetic. But now I like her, and admire her, a lot. She's always having these great ideas - and she acts on them, too. She's not just a dreamer.

Kristy's family is pretty complicated to describe, but here goes. First of all, her parents got divorced years ago after her dad walked out, leaving Kristy's mom to take care of Kristy and her brothers. (She's got two older brothers, Charlie and Sam, and: a younger one named David Michael.) Mrs. Thomas did a good job of being a single parent. But then she met Watson Brewer, who is a real, true millionaire. They fell in love and got married, and Kristy and her family moved across town to live in Watson's mansion.

But it's not just the six of them in that gigantic house. Watson had also been married before, and he has two kids - Karen (she's seven) and Andrew (he's four). They stay with the Brewers and Thomases every other weekend and for two weeks in the summer. Karen and Andrew love Kristy, and she loves them, too. No wicked stepfamilies here! You'd think that a family that size would be enough. But you'd be wrong. Kristy's mom and Watson recently decided to adopt Emily Mich.e.l.le, this two-and-a-half-year-old Vietnamese girl. (She's an absolute doll!) And then Nannie, Kristy's grandmother, moved in to help take care of Emily. Wow. Now that's a big family. And I haven't even told you about Shannon and Boo-Boo. (Don't worry, they're not more kids. Shannon's a dog and Boo-Boo's a cat.) Plus, there are some goldfish.

So that's Kristy. Oh! I forgot to tell you what she looks like. Kristy is on the short side, and she's got brown hair and brown eyes. And she's kind of a tomboy - that is, she doesn't care much about clothes or makeup, she likes to play baseball, and she's not all that interested in boys.

Kristy's best friend (I think they've been best friends all their lives) is Mary Anne Spier. She and Kristy look alike, with their brown hair and brown eyes (although Mary Anne cares a little more about clothes), but other than that they are very different. You've heard the saying "opposites attract"? That describes Mary Anne and Kristy. While Kristy is a.s.sertive and loudmouthed, Mary Anne is very quiet and shy, and incredibly sensitive.

I'm not sure why she is that way, but sometimes I think it may have to do with the way she grew up. Mary Anne's mother died when Mary Anne was tiny, and so her dad was the one who brought her up. I've heard that he used to be very strict with her - but he seems to be pretty loose now. He even dealt well with the fact that Mary Anne had a steady boyfriend for awhile (she's the only one of us club members who did). I guess it helped that he likes Logan. (That's Logan Bruno, Mary Anne's ex-boyfriend. He's in the club, too, actually - but I'll tell you about that later.) Maybe part of what loosened up Mr. Spier was falling in love and getting married again. Now, that's a romantic story. He met up with an old girlfriend from high school, started to date her again, and then he married her. And the best part of the story is that the old girlfriend happens to be Dawn Schafer's mother! Who is Dawn Schafer?

Dawn is another member of the club, and she's not only Mary Anne's stepsister; she's her best friend, too. (That's right, Mary Anne has two best friends.) Dawn's mom grew up in Stoneybrook but then moved to California, got married, and had two kids - Dawn and her younger brother, Jeff. But then she got divorced and moved back to Stoneybrook - a fact for which we are all thankful, since that move brought us Dawn. The only bad part about the move was that Jeff missed California and his dad so much that he ended up moving back there to live. So her family's split up, but Dawn handles it well.

Dawn is truly gorgeous. She's got incredibly long, white-blonde hair and she dresses in a style all her own. She wears all these great, casual clothes in bright colors. n.o.body else in Stoneybrook dresses like that - you could pick Dawn out as a California girl in a minute. She's different in other ways, too: She loves the sun and the sea, and she adores health food. Bean sprouts are to Dawn what Ho-Ho's are to Claudia.

Claudia - that's Claudia Kis.h.i.+, the vice-president of the BSC - is the Junk Food Queen. I've never seen anyone eat the way she does and still have such a great figure and perfect skin. I don't know how she does it, but Claudia always looks great. She has an incredible sense of style. She's also a great artist, which might have something to do with it.

Claudia is j.a.panese-American and very exotic-looking. She's got this long, silky black hair that she wears in a million different ways, and gorgeous almond-shaped eyes. Her family is pretty small - there's just her and her sister, Janine (who is a real - I swear it - genius), and their parents. Claudia's grandmother Mimi used to live with them, but she died not long ago. I get the feeling that Claud still misses Mimi all the time; they were very, very close.

Unlike her genius sister, Claudia is not a great student. It's not that she's dumb, but there are other things she'd rather do with her time than study - like sculpt or paint or make collages. She'd also like to spend her time munching on junk food while reading Nancy Drew books, but there's a limit to how much of that she can do, especially since her parents disapprove of both activities. Which is why you never know when you're in Claudia's room where you might find a Devil Dog or a Twinkie or a Three Musketeers. She hides them. Everywhere. Just like she hides her Nancy Drew books.

But even though Claudia's parents are strict about some things, they're pretty easy about others. Like clothes. Mallory and I are always fighting with our parents for the right to wear certain things - like miniskirts or big T-s.h.i.+rts over leggings. But Claudia's parents seem to let her wear whatever she wants. I think they see her outfits as part of her artistic expression. (I'm so jealous!) Stacey McGill is a really cool dresser, too. In fact, I think that's why she and Claudia became best friends at first. And one of the reasons Stacey's a sophisticated dresser is that she grew up in New York City. That's right, New York City - home of some of the best ballet companies in the world, not to mention the greatest restaurants, dance clubs, department stores . . .

But Stacey likes Stoneybrook. She first came here when her dad was transferred to Stamford, but then she actually moved back to New York when he was transferred again. The rest of the club members thought they'd lost Stacey forever. But then they heard bad news and good news. The bad news was that Stacey's parents were getting a divorce. The good news was that she and her mom were moving to Stoneybrook again! Unfortunately, they couldn't move into their old house. Why? Because my family had moved into it in the meantime! They did find another nice house, though, and of course Stacey was back in the club right away.

Stacey's very cool, as you might expect her to be. She gets her blonde hair permed every now and then, and as I said before, she rivals Claudia for "Trendiest Dresser in Stoneybrook." There's one other thing about Stacey - she's a diabetic. That means she has to take really good care of herself, watch her diet like a hawk, and (I could never do this!) give herself daily injections of insulin. Stacey doesn't seem to let it get to her, though - she's usually in a great mood.

Speaking of great moods, that night I was in about the best mood possible. The time right after you learn that you've won a great part is always the best - before the hard work of rehearsal begins. As I pa.s.sed the hall mirror on my way to call Mallory, I gave myself a big smile. "Hey, Aurora!" I said. "What's new?"

Chapter 3.