Jessi And The Dance School Phantom Part 3

We switched to another step, and I had a chance to relax for a moment as I waited my turn to show Mme Noelle my technique. Lisa Jones did a lovely arabesque at the back of the room. She was just practicing while she waited her turn. Carrie was on the floor, showing Mme Noelle her stuff.

After I took my turn, I stood again in the little knot of dancers, waiting for Madame to tell us what was next. I heard Hilary whispering behind me, and turned quickly to warn her to be quiet. (Madame hates it when we whisper.) Just as I turned, I heard a tiny clink. I looked down. Uh-oh. My necklace had dropped to the ground. The catch must have come unfastened.

I knelt quickly and grabbed it before anyone saw. Then, still kneeling, I scrambled to fasten it around my neck. When I stood up, I realized that I had missed Mme Noelle's directions. I had no idea what we were supposed to do next - and I was out in front of the group, which meant I might have to go first.

I looked around desperately. Mme Noelle's back was turned - she was just about to put the needle down onto the record. Carrie was standing next to me.

"Quick!" I said. "What did she say?" "Tour jetis," replied Carrie. "One of us at a time, across the room." I tried to catch my breath. Tour jetts. No problem.

"Lead off, Mademoiselle Romsey!" said Mme Noelle.

Oh, boy. I gathered myself together and took a deep breath. Then I took off, running diagonally across the room and executing a perfect tour jete. (Which is a big, running leap, in case you forgot.) Well, almost perfect. The only problem with it was the landing.

I landed like a sack of potatoes, sprawled out all over the floor. For just a second, I had no idea where I was. I shook my head and blinked. How could I have fallen so hard? Then I felt a sharp pain. My ankle was killing me. Everybody rushed over to where I was tying.

"Jessi, are you okay?" asked Katie Beth. "What happened?" I sat up, rubbing my ankle. "I don't know. It seemed like I slipped on something when I landed." I looked around me, checking the floor. "Look!" I said, pointing to a nearby spot. "It's all wet." Hilary knelt to look at it. "Boy, that's slick," she said. "No wonder you fell." "Where'd that mess come from, anyway?" asked another girl.

Then Mme Noelle worked her way into the circle of girls standing around me. "You are all right, Mademoiselle Romsey?" she asked. I nodded. "Good," she said. "All of you, back to your places," she added, waving the girls away from me. She helped me up, and then she examined the wet spot on the floor.

She clapped her hands. "Lisa Jones!" she said. "Please to run and fetch zee man who cleans zee floors!" Lisa ran out the door and headed for the janitor's room.

Madame turned back to me. I was standing there with all my weight on my right leg. My left one didn't seem to want to hold me up. "How does zee onkle feel?" she asked me, looking intently into my eyes.

I couldn't lie. "It - it hurts," I said. All I wanted to do was to keep on dancing. I could hardly stand the fact that I'd interrupted rehearsal for the third time in a row. But my ankle did hurt. A lot.

"Come," said Mme Noelle. She walked with me over to the side of the room (or rather, she walked; I limped), sat me down on a chair, and knelt in front of me. "Let's take a look," she said.

She picked up my foot and examined my ankle. Mme Noelle has seen a lot of injuries in her years of dancing - ballerinas are always hurting themselves. So she knew what she was doing. Anyway, even I could see that my ankle was swelling up and beginning to look bruised.

"Not so bad," said Mme Noelle. "It is not sprained, I sink. Just a strain. But you must see zee doctor." She looked into my face. "Tell me," she said. "Why were you performing zee tour jete!" "What do you mean?" I asked. "That's what we were supposed to be doing, wasn't it?" She shook her head. "You were not listening well, mademoiselle. I said nossing about zee tour jete. You were all to show me your best glissade change." I felt like such a fool. I must have misunderstood Carrie. "I'm so sorry, Madame Noelle," I said. "You're right. I wasn't listening well." I hung my head, ashamed. I just hate to disappoint her.

"It is all right, Jessica," said Mme Noelle gently. "Zee important sing for now is for your onkle to have zee chonce to heal." She smiled at me.

Then she dropped the bomb. "You must not donce for several days." Not dance! But what about the production? How were they going to rehea.r.s.e The Sleeping Beauty without me?

Mme Noelle answered my question before I even had a chance to ask it. She stood up and faced the cla.s.s. "Mademoiselle Parsons," she said in a louder voice, gesturing to Katie Beth. "You will take over zee role of Princess Aurora - " I couldn't believe my ears. Had I lost the lead role just because I'd slipped on some stupid wet spot?

" - for zee next rehearsal, and perhops some others, until Jessica is able to donce again," she finished.

Phew. I was relieved. At least I hadn't completely lost my chance to perform as Princess Aurora. But still, I felt like crying. There haven't been too many times in my life when I've been unable to dance - but there's nothing that can make me quite as miserable. Mme Noelle says that injuries are a part of a "doncer's" life, and that we'd better get used to them. I don't know if I'll ever be able to take things like this gracefully.

Mme Noelle clapped her hands. "Shall we continue?" she said. Then she turned back to me. "I would like to allow you to stay and watch zee rehearsal, but I sink you need to get off zat foot. Perhops you should have your father take you to zee doctor, and then you can go home and lie down." I nodded miserably and limped out of the studio. I couldn't help noticing, as I crossed the floor, that Katie Beth was absolutely beaming. I'm not saying that she was happy to see me get hurt - but she sure didn't look all that broken up about it.

I smiled broadly at her. I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of seeing me miserable.

I headed for the pay phone and called my father's office. "Mr. Ramsey, please," I said when somebody answered. Then my dad picked up his extension. Just hearing his voice say "h.e.l.lo?" made all the tears I'd been holding inside well up and overflow.

"Daddy!" I wailed, feeling like a two-year-old.

"Jessi!" he said. "What is it? Are you all right?" He sounded frantic.

1 hadn't meant to scare him. I took a deep breath and started over. "I'm okay," I said, sniffling a little. "It's just that I hurt my ankle during rehearsal. Madame Noelle says I should see a doctor." I drew a ragged breath. "Oh, Daddy, she says I can't dance for awhile!" "It'll be okay, sweetie," he said. "Now you sit tight. I'm on my way." I hung up the phone and went into the dressing room to change. This had been the worst of three bad rehearsals, and in a way I was just grateful that it was over.

I looked up at the framed picture of Mikhail Baryshnikov that hangs above one of the sinks. He looked back at me, smiling his c.o.c.ky smile. "Oh, Misha," I said. (I feel like I know him - he's my favorite dancer of all time - so it seems okay to use his nickname.) "I just want to crawl under a rock." He kept on smiling, and I could swear I heard him say, "Oh, Jessi, lighten up. So you can't dance for a few days. If that's the worst that happens, that's not so bad." I knew Misha was right. And if my mother were there she'd agree with him. "Get over it, Jessi!" she'd say. I decided to take their advice - even if it was all in my mind.

It was time to put all of this bad luck behind me. So I had to take a break from dancing. Big deal. When I came back, I'd be rested and better than ever.

I pulled my new dance bag out from under the bench, and my heart sank. A piece of paper was jammed over the padlock. Another note. I picked it up carefully and unfolded it. I read it and gasped. Here's what it said: I TOLD YOU SO. FROM NOW ON, WATCH OUT.

I felt a chill run down my spine. I thought of the wet spot on the floor, and how I'd slipped and fallen. Had somebody planned my fall? And if so, who? And why? How could anybody do such a mean thing? My head was full of questions. And my ankle was throbbing. I changed and got out of that place as quickly as I could.

Chapter 8.

"I'm sorry, Jessi, but I have to agree with your teacher," said Dr. Dellenkamp. My dad had driven me straight to her office. She held my ankle gently as she examined it. "This looks like a pretty bad strain. Still, it could have been worse." I nodded glumly. "I know. I could have sprained it, or even broken it, right?" "According to what you told me, I'd have to say that you got off easy," she agreed. "But, it's important that you give even a minor injury like this plenty of time to heal." "How long do I have to stay off my foot?" I asked. I held my breath as I waited for her answer. Was that one fall - which happened so quickly - going to ruin my chance to dance the part of Princess Aurora?

"Just about three days, I'd say," she answered. "Longer if it's still sore by then." Three days. That wasn't so bad. I ran over the rehearsal schedule in my mind. I would only have to miss one rehearsal. I gave a sigh of relief.

"Now let's wrap it well," said Dr. Dellenkamp, pulling an Ace bandage out of a drawer. "And I'm going to give you some crutches to use, too. You really need to keep your weight off that ankle." She smiled at me. "Sound okay?" I nodded. "Whatever you say. I just want to be dancing again as soon as possible." My ankle hurt pretty badly that night, especially when I was trying to get to sleep. It throbbed painfully and kept me awake. Maybe it was lucky that I didn't have to dance at rehearsal the next day - I was wiped out.

It felt funny to sit on a chair against the wall in the studio and watch everybody else rehea.r.s.e. Katie Beth was in her glory, dancing my part. Carrie kept shooting glances my way - and maybe it was all in my mind, but she looked kind of guilty to me. I started to wonder . . . had one of them been writing those notes? Was it only a coincidence that water had spilled on the floor? And had I really misunderstood Carrie - or did she tell me to do the wrong step on purpose?

I didn't like being so suspicious - but I was really beginning to feel scared. It seemed that somebody was out to get me - and the stakes were pretty high. Somebody wanted me out of the way so that she could dance the lead role - that seemed obvious. And she didn't care if I got hurt in the process.

After rehearsal, some of the girls gathered around the chair where I sat.

"How are you feeling, Jessi?" That was Hilary, sounding syrupy sweet. She'd never cared about my welfare before. . . .

"I'm okay," I said. "It doesn't hurt too badly. I think I'll be able to dance again by the next rehearsal." "That's great!" said Lisa.

I looked at her closely. Was she really being sincere? Suddenly, it seemed like any one of the girls in my cla.s.s could be suspected of trying to get rid of me. What a terrible feeling! I waited until everybody else had cleared out. Then I hopped into the dressing room on my crutches. It was embarra.s.sing to limp around like some cripple - I didn't want anyone laughing at me. I checked my locker, just to make sure there wasn't a moldy old leotard in there that I should take home and put in the wash.

There wasn't. But there was another note. "What's going on here?" I said out loud, as I unfolded it. Once again I saw that blood-red ink. IT COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE, it said, echoing Dr. Dellenkamp's words. But then it went on. TOO BAD IT WASN'T.

At the next BSC meeting, I poured out the story to my friends. I hadn't talked about it too much yet - mainly because I was embarra.s.sed. It had seemed silly. Until now.

"This person, whoever she is, sounds really mean, Jessi," said Mary Anne. "This is serious." "I know," I said. "I'm starting to get scared. What if I really got hurt?" "That's what worries me," said Mallory. "But what are you going to do? Maybe you should talk to Madame Noelle." "I can't do that," I said. "She'd never believe that such things were going on in her school. She'd think I was making it all up." I paused for a moment, while Kristy answered the phone. Should I tell them what I'd been thinking of doing?

"Actually," I said, when the job at the Papadakises' had been arranged, "I've been thinking that maybe I should just quit the production. I love that role, but it's not worth risking my life for it." Mallory gasped. "Give up the production!" she said. "You're nuts, Jessi. That may be the best part you've ever gotten. You can't let them scare you out of it." "Mal's right," said Claud. "You can't quit. I've already bought a new outfit to wear to your opening night." She laughed. "I'm only kidding. But really, we'll help you figure out what to do," she added.

Dawn leaned forward. "Hey, Jessi, do you still have the notes you got?" I nodded. "They're right here," I said, digging into my new high-security dance bag.

"Let's see them," she said. I handed them over, and she started to examine each one closely. "Boy, I can see why you're feeling scared," she said, after she'd read each one. She pa.s.sed them around to the others. There was a pause while everybody read them - and while Stacey answered a couple of job calls.

"Still, Jessi," said Kristy after a few minutes. "The idea was to scare you. You can't give this person the satisfaction." "I've got an idea," said Mallory suddenly. "What if we came to watch one of your rehearsals? We could be - what d'you call it? Objective observers? And maybe we could finger the suspect." I thought about it for a minute. "Our next rehearsal is on the stage where the performance is going to be held," I said slowly, figuring it out. "If you sat in the back of the theater, maybe no one would notice you." "It sounds like fun," said Stacey. "But that's in Stamford, too, right? How are we going to get there?" "No problem," said Kristy. "I bet Charlie would drive us." Just then the phone rang, and Kristy jumped to answer it. By the time the job had been a.s.signed, I had decided that the plan sounded good. I agreed not to drop out of the production, at least not until my friends could observe a rehearsal.

"Now that that's settled," said Kristy, "what about the pet show? I know I sounded kind of down on it in my notebook entry, but don't you all still think if 11 be fun?" She sounded like she needed to be convinced.

"I do!" said Mary Anne. "And I know the kids do, even if it is stirring up some compet.i.tion. They're having fun already." "I know," said Mallory. "I baby-sat for the Perkins girls yesterday afternoon, and you should have seen them trying to give Chewy a bath. What a mess!" Chewy is Chewbacca, the Perkinses' dog. He's a black Labrador retriever, and boy, is he a nut. He's the most energetic dog I've ever seen - and since he's also big and strong, sometimes he creates total chaos in that house.

"First of all," said Mallory, "every time they finally wrestled him into the tub, he'd jump out again and shake water off all over the bathroom." "Oh, no!" said Dawn, groaning. "1 hope Mrs. Perkins was prepared for this." "She said that whatever the girls wanted to do was okay," said Mallory. "1 guess she figures that it's only water. Anyway, then they'd get him into the tub, and one of them would have to get in with him to try to hold him. The other one would pick up the bar of soap and start scrubbing. Then the soap would slip out of her hands and onto the floor, and Chewy - " "Would jump out to retrieve it, I bet!" finished Dawn. "That dog can never let anything drop to the ground without running to pick it up." "No joke!" said Mallory. "He looked pretty surprised the first time he picked up the soap. It must have tasted so gross! But he kept doing it again and again." "So did he finally get clean?" asked Stacey.

"He was getting there," said Mallory. "But then Gabbie left the room for a minute and came back carrying R.C." That's R.C. for Rat Catcher, the Perkinses' brown tiger cat.

"She must have thought R.C. needed a bath, too - because the next thing I knew, she'd dumped her in the tub with Chewy!" Oh, my lord.

"R.C. jumped right out and streaked out the door, looking like a drowned rat. And Chewy chased after her. Water was flying all over the place!" said Mallory. By now we were hysterical, imagining the scene.

"Of course, R.C. ran under the porch, and Chewy followed her. Both of them got covered with dirt. So the whole thing was a waste!" "I'm sure Chewy would have gotten dirty again by the time of the pet show, anyway," said Mary Anne.

"That's what I tried to tell Gabbie and Myriah," said Mallory. "But they were too upset to listen. What a day! It took us the rest of the afternoon to clean up the bathroom." "I had kind of a similar experience with Linny Papadakis and his turtle," said Kristy.

"He gave his turtle a bath?" asked Claudia.

"No, he didn't exactly give Myrtle a bath," said Kristy. "What happened was - " But she was interrupted by a job call. Mrs. Barrett needed a sitter for Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie. Mallory got the job. Then Kristy went on with her story.

"Linny spent all afternoon painting Myrtle's sh.e.l.l," she said. "He used these water-based poster paints, since I told him that his model paints might not be so good for Myrtle. You know what? He did a great job. Myrtle looked really cool when he was done." "What did he paint?" asked Claudia.

"There were these red lightning bolts running down the sides of the sh.e.l.l, and yellow stars," said Kristy. "And all kinds of other stuff. We took Myrtle outside with us afterward, so that Linny could admire her once in awhile as he played." "Sounds like a disaster is coming up!" said Mary Anne.

"You're right," said Kristy. "Linny got involved in a game of Statues with some other kids, and Myrtle crawled over to this little plastic pool in the side yard. By the time we got to her, all the paint had washed off." "Oh, poor Linny!" I said.

"1 know," said Kristy. "He was really crushed. But at least he learned that he's got to keep Myrtle away from water if he wants the paint job to last." We talked about the pet show for the rest of our meeting that day - it was clearly the "main event" for a lot of kids in Stoneybrook. I only hoped we'd all live through it.

Chapter 9.

Poor Mallory. She realized the minute she entered the Barretts' house that she was in for a bad afternoon. As usual, Mrs. Barrett was running late (she's sort of disorganized), and she left without giving Mallory any instructions about the job. (We always get to jobs on time - or even early - so that parents can let us know if they have any special directions for us. But in Mrs. Barrett's case, arriving early hardly ever does any good.) Mrs. Barrett was divorced not too long ago, and I guess caring for three kids on her own isn't easy. I'll say one thing, though - it doesn't take a toll on her appearance. Mrs. Barrett is totally gorgeous. She looks like a model, with her beautiful chestnut-colored hair. Anyway, Mrs. Barrett rushed out as Mallory came in, leaving a cloud of perfumed air behind her.

She also left three cranky kids. Buddy, who's eight, is usually in a pretty good mood - and he's always got a lot of energy. But that afternoon he seemed sulky and withdrawn. And five-year-old Suzi's round face looked crabby. She can pout with the best of them. Mallory said that Suzi's lower lip was stuck out about as far as it could go.

Marnie, the baby (she's two), was wailing like a fire engine. Mallory scooped her up.

"What is it, Mamie?" she asked. But the answer was obvious. Marnie's diaper was soaking wet.

"C'mon, you guys," said Mallory to Buddy and Suzi. "Keep me company while I change your sister. Then we'll have a snack, okay?" Buddy shot Suzi a Look. "Do I have to?" he asked. "I don't even want to be in the same room with her." He pointed at Suzi, who pouted even harder.

"Guess what, Buddy Barrett," said Suzi.

"What?" said Buddy, flatly.

"You're a nut!" Ordinarily, this joke gets a big laugh out of both of them. But this time, Buddy just shook his head.

"Guess what," he said back to Suzi.

"What?" she asked.

"Your whole family's a nut," Buddy sneered.

"Ha, ha!" said Suzi triumphantly. "You're in my family. That means you're a nut, just like I said." Mallory could see that this was going nowhere. "Okay, okay," she said. "C'mon, let's get this diaper changing over with. Suzi, where has your mom been keeping the diapers lately?" The Barretts' house is pretty messy. "A pigsty," Stacey called it, the first time she sat there.

Sometimes we try to tidy up while we're there, but Mallory didn't think that was a good idea, with Buddy and Suzi in such bad moods. So she asked Suzi to lead her to the diapers (Suzi and Marnie share a room), and asked Buddy to help her distract Marnie while she changed the wet diaper.

"Moonie, Meanie, Mownie!" said Buddy, dancing around the changing table and making faces while Mallory wiped Marnie's bottom. His technique wasn't the greatest, but Mal had to admit that it worked. Marnie was smiling and waving at him, instead of crying and kicking. She's usually not too crazy about having her diaper changed, so the distraction helped a lot.

"Thanks, Buddy," said Mallory. "Thanks, Suzi. You guys were a big help." She lifted up the newly dry Marnie, who was making what Buddy and Suzi call her "ham face," which she only does when she's happy. Then she led them back downstairs. "Now let's have a snack and you can tell me why you're both feeling so cranky today." "I'm not cranky!" whined Suzi.

"Yes, you are, too!" said Buddy. "But I'm not. I'm happy!" He gave Mallory a big - and very fake - smile.

Mallory shrugged and turned to get some crackers out of the cupboard.

"Ow!" she heard, behind her. She turned around. Suzi was rubbing her s.h.i.+n. "He kicked me," she said, pointing at Buddy. Mallory gave Buddy a Look.

"Buddy, don't kick your sister," she said, turning back to the cupboard.

"Hey!" This time it was Buddy's voice.

"What is it?" asked Mallory. She'd had just about enough of their squabbling.

"She poked me!" said Buddy.

"Did not!" yelled Suzi.

"Gobbydoo," said Mamie, waving her hands in the air.

Mallory put her hands on her hips. "Okay, that's it. I want to know what's going on between you two. You usually have a great time together. So what's the problem today?" Suzi looked at Buddy.

Buddy glared at Suzi.

"It's Pow," they both said at once.

"I want to enter him in the pet show," said Buddy. "He's my dog. I got him for my second birthday, when he was just a puppy. Suzi wasn't even born yet then." "But Mommy said he belongs to all of us now!" said Suzi. "And I help you feed him sometimes. I want to put him in the pet show!" Pow is the Barretts' ba.s.set hound. Buddy sometimes likes to tell sitters that Pow is the meanest dog in the world. But he's not. He's sleepy and slow and puts up very well with the kids' teasing.

Mallory sighed. She'd left her own house hearing a similar fight between her brothers and sisters. Ever since the Pikes had gotten their invitation to the pet show, they'd been squabbling over which one of them should be able to enter Frodo.

Frodo is the Pikes' hamster. They got him when my family got Misty, which means that he and Misty are brother and sister. I'm not great at long division, but I do know one thing: One hamster doesn't, go evenly into seven kids. Mallory told me later she'd given up on helping her brothers and sisters decide which of them should enter Frodo in the show. It seemed impossible.

"1 know you guys can work this out," said Mallory to Buddy and Suzi. Actually, she had her doubts about that, but she knew she had to say something. "It's really nothing to fight about. Let's finish up our snack and go outside to play." Being outside just had to be better than being cooped up inside with these sour-p.u.s.s.es, she thought.

After the kids had eaten, Mallory tidied up the kitchen (including was.h.i.+ng a sink full of breakfast dishes that Mrs. Barrett had left behind). Then she herded her charges out the door. Marnie climbed into her stroller, and Mallory pushed her down the front walk. Suzi ran to show Mal all the flowers that she and her mom had planted. Buddy tagged along behind them, making faces behind Suzi's back.

Then Mal saw him smile and wave. She looked up to see Haley and Matt Braddock waving back. Mallory smiled with relief. Great! Now Buddy and Suzi would have something to do besides pick on each other.