“Okay, you guys,” she says. “You know I’m Coach Kirsten, but I’ve been coaching the Belles outside of camp for…”
“Well, that’s not fair!” Melissa starts right away.
“Well, where’s your coach? Oh, you don’t have one, and who are you, again?” Ivy retorts.
Melissa is up on her feet. Tina, Sally, and I jump to join her. The Belles are on their feet too. We’re all yelling at each other, mostly saying how we can’t stand each other. Kirsten steps in the middle.
“Quiet down, you guys!” she demands. “Everyone sit down!” We all do, out of respect. “Now, I can help you guys get into this competition or not. What’s it going to be?” We all murmur in agreement. “All right, that’s more like it,” she continues. “I know you guys love double Dutch or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Got that right” slips out of my mouth.
“Please don’t sass.” Kirsten gives me a sharp look. With attitude, I zip my lips.
The couple standing in the back comes forward as some sort of representatives of the National Double Dutch League. They explain the rules to us and that there’s a new part of the competition called fusion. It’s kind of like freestyle, but you can have a maximum of six jumpers and there can be dance, acrobatics, and music incorporated, crammed into a two-minute routine. Sounds like crazy fun!
“Wait!” I suddenly have a question. “There’s four of them and four of us?”
“You guys are going to have to drop someone,” Brie says matter-of-factly.
“I suggest Sally,” Ivy says. The Belles laugh.
“I wouldn’t be on the same team with you if you paid me,” says Sally with dignity.
“No one wants to be on their team,” chimes in Tina. “They’re so mean.”
“We’re not mean! We just don’t want to work with amateurs!” Ivy says.
“Call us amateurs one more time…,” Melissa threatens, and the arguing in the gym gets loud again. I just want to fill Ivy’s face with my fist but restrain myself. That little girl is not worth me embarrassing myself or, worse, getting in trouble for beating up some Southern girl with all that mouth. I feel the old me suddenly creeping back into my veins, but I’m not going to let her do it. I’m not gonna do it! Kirsten whistles really loudly. We calm down and sit back on the gym floor.
“There’s not enough time for this childishness. If you guys want to compete, you’re going to have to work together,” insists Kirsten. “Now, Sally, I know there’s some history with this team, but it’s time we all bury the hatchet and move on.” Sally and Ivy share a look and try not to show any emotion, but I can tell they were once the best of friends. “I’ve been informed that two of the Belles won’t be able to make the trip because of family vacation conflicts.” Two of the Belles slowly put up their hands to indicate whom Kirsten is referring to. Ivy and Brie shoot them a look and moan in disgust. “Now, if you guys don’t join forces, you won’t be able to compete in fusion, and the sponsors won’t pay for the trip.”
“What sponsors?” I ask.
“Our sponsors,” says Brie.
“Well, excuse me,” I say, surprised, as I hold my hands up. The Belles just smirk like they’re special because they have “sponsors.” Well, it is kind of special, considering they only just finished seventh grade, but I’m not showing them I’m impressed. Not after the way they’ve treated my cousin.
“So, do we have a deal?” asks Kirsten.
I turn to the rest of my team and create a huddle. It is clear that the last thing we want to do is work with the enemy, but competing on a higher level and a trip to Madison Square Garden, which of course is what I’ve been wanting all summer, seem like no-brainers. Then I have a thought: Who’s going to coach us? So we come to a conclusion: we are in under one condition.
“We get a coach too,” I say with my arms crossed. My girls back me up with their arms crossed too.
“That’s right. If we have someone who knows how to work with us, we’re in,” says Sally. “No offense.”
Their coach looks more confused than insulted.
“Sure,” Kirsten says with her eyebrows raised. “Who do you have in mind?”
“Her name is Gabriella, and she’s good,” Melissa says with a smile, like she knows what she’s talking about. Kirsten tilts her head to the side like she recognizes the name.
“They can’t bring their own coach, can they?” asks Brie. “That’s just rude.”
“Gabriella who?” Kirsten asks suspiciously.
“Gabriella Upton,” Sally answers. Kirsten’s eyes roll back in her head. Hmm…I take it she knows Gabriella.
“Okay.” Kirsten throws her hands up. “Okay, if that’s what you want. I guess we’ll all just have to work together.” I could be assuming, but it seems like Ms. Kirsten and Ms. Gabriella are going to have to bury a hatchet themselves. This is going to be interesting.
I don’t think these girls understand they’re going to New York, where the competition is going to be thick. If we’re going to even have a chance, especially against my friends back home—which is going to be crazy awkward—we’re really going to have to focus. Hopefully we’ll be able to get Gabriella on board. I wonder if she’ll do it knowing Kirsten is in charge of the Bouncing Belles.
I’m going to the Garden!
It’s Sunday, and instead of taking us to brunch after church, Uncle Larry says we’re heading home for an announcement. I just love how my uncle and aunt make everything a “surprise” or an “announcement.” So far I’ve liked every surprise, so I’m looking forward
