The Pink Lemonade Charade Page 8

  Luckily, she didn’t have to wait very long. Before she had been waiting for-more than ten minutes, she heard the doorknob start to turn. She hid inside one of the booths and locked the door, which enabled her to see who had come in without being seen herself, and without anyone becoming suspicious.

  From her hiding place, Chris saw right away that it was Natasha who had come in, wearing a leotard and carrying a large tote bag over her shoulder. The pretty dancer looked into the mirror, scowled, and muttered something in Russian. Then she took out a comb and proceeded to fuss with her dark hair, pulled back into a tight bun; that is, except for single strand that kept popping out.

  “Natasha!” Chris whispered, stepping out so that her friend could see her.

  “Christine! What are you doing here?”

  “Sh-h-h, we don’t have much time.” Chris handed her the bundle she had brought along. “Quick, put this in your bag. It’s a dress. Wear it tonight after the performance, but don’t let anyone know you’ve got it on.”

  Natasha nodded. “I will wear bathrobe over it.”

  “Good. And make sure you’re wearing your hair the same way it is now. Then just wait for us in your dressing room. Susan and I will come as soon as we can, pretending to congratulate you and say good-bye. But when no one is looking, you and I will switch places. You and Susan will leave together, as two twins, both wearing pink dresses, the same way we came in. Meanwhile, I’ll stay in your dressing room for a while, then leave a few minutes later. Okay?”

  Chris looked at Natasha, half expecting her to laugh at the plan, or burst into tears, or, worse yet, act as if she had no idea what Chris was talking about. Instead, she tucked the dress into her tote bag. Then she grabbed Chris’s hand.

  “Is good plan,” she whispered. The look in her dark brown eyes showed exactly how grateful she was.

  And then the moment had passed. From outside in the hall came the sound of two girls chattering gaily in Russian. Natasha turned back to the mirror, her expression growing stern as she returned to fixing her hair. Chris, meanwhile, ducked back into one of the booths, locking the door.

  From her vantage point, she watched while the three Russian dancers fussed with their hair and talked. It was obvious that all three of them were nervous and excited about tonight.

  The dancers may be nervous about tonight, Chris thought ruefully as she slipped unseen out of the washroom after the dancers had left and the piano music she heard from the studio told her that the rehearsal was now under way. But not nearly as nervous as some of the members of their audience are!

  Chapter Ten

  ‘‘Well, Chris, I guess this is it.” Susan took a deep breath, then looked over at her sister’s reflection in the mirror. “Are you ready for the Pink Lemonade Charade to begin?”

  The Pratt twins were standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door in the hotel room that Chris and Holly were sharing. Holly had left long before; she was attending a short pre-performance lecture, given by one of the Russian dancers, on Coppelia, the ballet the Whittington High School students would be seeing later on that night.

  Chris and Susan, however, had passed on the lecture. As much as they would have liked to have heard it, they had much more important things to do early this evening, before the party the American students were holding in honor of the ballet dancers, before the Russian dance troupe’s gala performance, and, of course, before the final moments of the Pink Lemonade Charade.

  One of the things they had to do, probably the most important, was prepare themselves. They needed time to calm their jitters, and to make sure that every single detail had been carefully thought through. After all, this escapade that was about to get under way was easily the riskiest adventure they had ever undertaken.

  And tonight, it was not only themselves who were involved. As they were only too well aware, Natasha Samchenko’s entire future rested in their hands.

  “Well,” Chris said, biting her lip, “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. How do we look?”

  Susan studied the reflection in the mirror with a practiced eye. What she saw was two girls who, even to her, looked identical. They had both pulled their dark chestnut brown hair back into low ponytails at the base of their necks. They had made a point of not wearing any jewelry at all, not even wristwatches or earrings, and their makeup was simple. And, of course, they were both wearing the same dresses, the new T-shirt dresses that were the color of pink lemonade.

  “‘How do we look?’ We look like twins,” Susan replied with a nervous laugh.

  “Good,” Chris replied with a chuckle, glancing at her sister. “And just think: In a few more hours, we’re going to look like triplets.”

  By the time the girls went inside the elegant hotel in which the Russian dancers were staying, much of their nervousness had vanished. Now that it was time for the party at which the Whittington High School students were playing host to their visitors, they were as excited as they would be on their way to any other party.

  This one, in particular, promised to be fun, one of the highlights of their trip. It was being held in one of the meeting rooms on the mezzanine of the hotel, where there would be lots of loud rock music, a buffet of both Russian delicacies and American favorites like hot dogs, Rocky Road ice cream, and even pink lemonade, and, most important, the first real opportunity for the American high school students to get to know the Russian dancers.

  “Gee, this looks as if it’s really going to be some party, doesn’t it?” Susan commented as the twins rounded a corner and found themselves standing in the doorway of the meeting room in which the festivities were already well under way.

  There were balloons hanging from the ceiling and crepe-paper streamers everywhere, all in pastel shades of pink, yellow, blue, and green, just perfect for spring. There was, indeed, loud music; the number one hit in the country was blasting from the stereo at full volume, and a few couples had ventured out into the area designated as the dance floor.

  Everyone was dressed up, looking their best. And it was apparent that both the Americans and the Russians were committed to meeting each other, overcoming whatever shyness they may have been experiencing in order to take advantage of this unique opportunity, talking and laughing and becoming friends.

  Despite all this activity, however, the Pratt twins’ entrance caused quite a sensation.

  “There are two of you!” sputtered Mr. Pirov as soon as he saw the twins come into the room. He started over in their direction. Mrs. Korsky, the girls noticed, followed close behind, and the look on her face made it clear that she was just as astonished as her fellow “chaperone.”

  Susan and Chris just looked at each other and grinned.

  The first thing they did was head for the refreshments, where a huge glass punch bowl was filled with pink lemonade. As they helped themselves, they tried to ignore the two Russian chaperones, but they were well aware that their eyes were glued to these two girls who looked like mirror images of each other.

  “So far, so good,” Chris whispered to Susan as she leaned across the buffet table to grab a paper napkin.

  Susan just smiled.

  “Christine, you have made—how you say—’big splash!’“ Chris heard someone say, in a gleeful voice. She turned around and grinned at Natasha.

  “That’s how Susan and I like to do things,” she replied with a chuckle. “When we decide to do something, we always do it right. By the way, Natasha, I don’t believe you’ve actually had a chance to meet my twin sister—my identical twin sister. Natasha, this is Susan Pratt. Sooz, Natasha Samchenko.”

  “I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Susan Pratt,” Natasha said earnestly. And the look in her dark eyes as she shook Susan’s hand made it clear just how true that statement was.

  “Now,” Natasha said brightly, “is time for you to meet my friends. Katya, Ivan, Dimitri, come meet my two American—what is word I look for—‘buddies?’ ”

  For the next hours, Chris
and Susan had more fun than they could remember having had in a very long time. Natasha introduced them to every one of the dancers, all of whom were interested in finding out more about these two girls who looked so much the same. The twins danced with practically every boy in the Russian troupe. They were both amazed to discover how easy it was to have a good time with these new friends of theirs. It hardly mattered at all that their two languages were so different, and that some of the dancers knew very little English.

  “Gee, Sooz, I sure wish I’d brushed up on my Russian before this trip,” Chris joked over her shoulder as she danced with Ivan and Susan twirled around with Dimitri. “I could have at least learned how to ask a few questions, like ‘How do you like the United States so far?’“

  “The only problem would have been that you wouldn’t have been able to understand anyone’s answer!” Susan replied, laughing.

  The Russian boys weren’t the only ones that the twins danced with. Gary and Tim both insisted on claiming one of the dances as theirs, and Chris and Susan gladly took a break from their “cultural exchange” for a few minutes in order to reestablish their ties with these boys from their own country.

  It seemed like the perfect get-together—that is, until Skip Desmond joined the party, making a boisterous entrance that called attention to the fact that he was the only one who hadn’t been able to show up on time this evening.

  He swaggered in, looking as if he were heading for trouble even before he’d had a chance to say a word to anyone. Susan noticed that the teachers from their school, Ms. Parker and some of the others who were acting as chaperones this evening, looked a bit uncomfortable as he came in. Even Mr. Pirov and Mrs. Korsky seemed to take notice of his arrival.

  Skip made a point of popping one of the balloons so that everyone in the place jumped. He snickered when everyone looked up to see what had made the loud noise.

  “Hey, everybody, how’s it going?” he asked casually.

  He glared at the Russian dancers, and then headed for the refreshments, pushing his way through the crowd so roughly that he spilled a cup of pink lemonade all over Beth’s pretty green dress. Immediately Holly rushed over and began wiping at the stain with paper napkins.

  “This is starting to get out of hand,” Susan whispered to Chris. “I have a feeling that somebody had better put a stop to Skip’s shenanigans before he makes some real trouble.”

  But before Chris had had a chance to reply, Skip noticed the Pratt twins, standing together at the other side of the room, watching his every move and frowning with disapproval. As soon as he saw them, he abandoned the refreshment table and headed in their direction.

  “Uh-oh,” Chris breathed. “At the risk of sounding trite, here comes trouble.”

  “Don’t worry,” Susan assured her. “There are so many people around, he wouldn’t dare do anything too terrible.” She only wished she were as confident about her statement as she had managed to sound.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite little snob,” Skip said loudly, looking at Chris with a frightening coldness in his eyes.

  “Hello, Skip,” Chris returned coolly. “Glad you could make it tonight,” she added sarcastically.

  “Oh, yeah?” Skip’s tone had already softened. Pretending to misunderstand her comment, he came over and put his arm around her waist. “See, I’ve been trying to tell you for a while now that you and I were made for each other. I’m glad I’m finally starting to get to you.”

  “Oh, you’re definitely getting to me, but not in the way you mean.” Firmly Chris removed his hand from her waist, stepping aside so that she was no longer within his easy reach.

  “Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to start putting more energy into changing your mind about that.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked at Susan. “Now how about if you disappear, Sis? Your twin and I have some things to discuss.”

  “Susan isn’t going anywhere,” Chris said firmly.

  “Oh, yeah? What, you need a chaperone?”

  “With you around, I think what I need is a bodyguard.”

  Skip just laughed.

  By that time, several people had noticed the unpleasant interchange going on in the corner of the room. Even Mr. Pirov and Mrs. Korsky were looking on nervously.

  And then Ivan, the Russian dancer who was one of Natasha’s friends, sauntered over, keeping a friendly look on his face even though it was obvious by his actions that he was concerned.

  “Hello, Christine,” he said. “Would you like to dance?”

  “Flake off, pal,” Skip returned belligerently. “Chris here has just promised to dance every dance for the rest of the night with me. Besides, shouldn’t you be polishing your toe shoes or something?”

  “I’d be careful if I were you, Skip,” Susan interjected. “Ivan here is a lot bigger than you. Stronger, too, as you can see for yourself—that is, if you’re not too busy making a fool of yourself to check out the muscles on his arms.”

  “Huh! I’m not afraid of any foreigner. Especially some guy who can hardly speak English.”

  Suddenly Skip seemed to realize that it didn’t make sense to push Ivan too far. He turned his attention back to Chris.

  “Come on, sweets. It’s time for you and me to show this guy what dancing is really all about.”

  He grabbed Chris by the wrist and pulled her out onto the dance floor, using such force that she nearly lost her balance.

  “Stop it!” she cried, trying to break away from his insistent grasp. “Leave me alone, Skip. You’re really going too far.”

  “Hey, come on. Don’t be such a party pooper. I thought you were a girl who likes to have a good time.”

  “Not with someone like you!” Once again, Chris tried to get away from him, but he still held onto her arm.

  “Relax, Chris. I’m telling you, you and I could make quite a pair, if you’d just give me a chance.”

  “Skip, cut it out.” She looked around for Ms. Parker, but the chaperone was nowhere to be seen.

  Despite her protests, however, Chris knew that nothing she could say would make any difference to this boy. She glanced over at Ivan, and saw from the angry look in his eyes that he was about to forget his manners and take the matter into his own hands in about another thirty seconds. And a fight was the last thing Chris wanted.

  All of a sudden, without even thinking, she reached over toward the buffet table and grabbed a half-drunk cup of pink lemonade that someone had left there. And just as impetuously, she dumped it all over Skip’s head.

  “What ... how ...!” he sputtered, blinking and swiping at his eyes as the cold pink liquid dripped off his hair, all over his face, and onto his clothes. When he finally managed to open his eyes, Chris was surprised to see that he looked more hurt than angry.

  “What did you do that for?” he demanded.

  “I’m sorry, Skip, but you didn’t seem to believe me when I told you I had no interest in dancing with you,” Chris replied coldly. “So I had to resort to some other way of letting you know how serious I was.”

  “Why, you little! …”

  But Chris didn’t wait around to hear what else he had to say. She stalked away, so angry and upset that she was actually shaking. She was aware that everyone in the room was looking at her, and at Skip, standing in the middle of the room, sopping wet and still sputtering incoherently.

  Fortunately, another record came on just then, and Holly made a point of dragging Hank onto the dance floor. Katya and Dimitri followed, then Natasha and Ivan, and it wasn’t long before the party was under way once again.

  By the time Chris had the nerve to glance over at Skip, he was gone, having rushed out of the room as quickly as he could.

  “Gee, Chris, are you all right?” Susan asked once her twin had joined her in the corner of the room once again.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Chris bit her lip, then suddenly broke into a huge grin. “Skip sure looked surprised when I poured that pink lemonade all over his head, did
n’t he?”

  “I’ll say.” Instead of smiling, however, Susan just looked worried. “Oh, Chris, of course you were right to stand up for yourself, and he certainly deserved what he got ... but what do you think will happen now?”

  “Who cares? He’s gone, isn’t he? The party can go on, and everyone can keep having a good time—just as they were before that troublemaker showed up here.”

  “I guess so,” Susan replied.

  She forced a smile, having decided to keep her fears to herself.

  Skip Desmond is the kind of boy who won’t take an affront like that lying down, she was thinking. Now that Chris insulted him, and in front of so many people, too, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he decided to seek some kind of revenge.

  Oh, dear, she thought, her forehead furrowed with worry even as she accepted Tim’s invitation for another dance, if he does decide to get back at Chris, I sure hope he doesn’t try anything tonight! The last thing we need is for Skip Desmond to do something that might get in the way of the Pink Lemonade Charade!

  Chapter Eleven

  The Russian ballet troupe’s performance of Coppelia was exquisite. Susan and Chris sat on the edge of their seats in one of the three theaters comprising the Kennedy Center. It was elegant and understated with its comfortable upholstered seats and its thick carpets in a deep, rich red. Their eyes remained glued to the stage for almost two hours, as if they had been hypnotized. Before them unfolded a romantic story about a beautiful doll who seems to come to life, with Natasha Samchenko dancing the lead role.

  “Gee, this has got to be the most wonderful performance I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” Susan whispered to her twin sister as the audience around them applauded a particularly lovely dance that Natasha had just done. Every one of her movements had been perfect, and on the stage, she looked even more graceful than she had during rehearsals.

  “I’ll say!” Chris agreed heartily, whispering back.