The Pink Lemonade Charade Read online

  “Natasha is even better than I ever dreamed. And the costumes are sensational, the scenery is great, the orchestra is wonderful.... I like ballet more than I ever would have thought.”

  The twins were indeed enjoying the ballet. Even so, neither one of them could completely ignore the fear that tugged at them throughout, not letting them forget, even for a moment, that something much more important than the memorable performance of Coppelia still lay ahead of them this evening.

  “Goodness, that was really something!” Susan said once the ballet was over, making certain that her comment would be overheard by at least some of her classmates.

  The applause had ended, four curtain calls had been taken, and Natasha had modestly accepted a bouquet of two dozen red roses with tears in her eyes. Now the members of the audience were standing up to leave, folding up their programs and gathering up jackets and pocketbooks as they prepared to leave the Kennedy Center.

  Susan and Chris, of course, had no intention of leaving. At least, not yet.

  “Yes, it was really something.” Chris made a point of agreeing with her sister in an equally loud voice. “Hey, Sooz, I just had a brainstorm. What do you say you and I go backstage and congratulate Natasha on her outstanding performance? I’m sure she’d want to hear about how much we enjoyed the entire ballet.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea!” Susan replied enthusiastically. “Besides, that’ll give us a chance to say good-bye to Natasha. Don’t forget, we’re going back home tomorrow, and so is she. This will be our last chance to see her.”

  The two girls, dressed in identical pink dresses and wearing their hair in the same style, made their way backstage.

  Not surprisingly, there was a flurry of excitement behind the scenes. The ballet dancers were excited about the success of their performance, and more than a little bit relieved. They stood in the wings, talking and laughing and congratulating each other. It was fun, seeing them all in their costumes and their elaborate makeup, relaxing amidst the lights and ropes and cables and scenery that were ail tucked away backstage. But as much as Susan and Chris would have loved to linger, they moved through the crowd with determination.

  “Hello, Susan! Hello, Christine!” the girls’ new Russian friends called to them as they passed through the throng of dancers.

  “Hi, everybody!” Chris returned.

  “We loved the ballet,” said Susan. “It was magnificent!”

  “Thank you,” said Dimitri. “Where are you girls going now?”

  “Oh, just to see Natasha,” Chris replied casually.

  “That’s right,” Susan agreed, “We want to congratulate her on her performance and say good-bye.”

  Mr. Pirov and Mrs. Korsky, the twins noticed, were lurking on the sidelines, listening to every word that was said. The girls made their way quickly through the wings, more aware than ever of how important—and how dangerous—their mission really was.

  They found a corridor behind the stage, off of which the dressing rooms were located. It didn’t take long for them to find the one that was Natasha’s.

  Just as the twins had expected, they found her alone, waiting for them.

  “Natasha! Here you are!” Chris said loudly as she burst into the dressing room. As far as she was concerned, she wanted to make everything she and her sister did and said seem as natural as possible. After all, she was only too aware that it was impossible to know exactly who might be taking note of their actions.

  “We loved the ballet,” Susan added, sounding just as dramatic. “And you were wonderful. Watching you dance was quite an experience. Tonight’s a night I’ll never forget.”

  “Me, either!” her twin agreed.

  Natasha, meanwhile, was sitting on a small couch in the dressing room, looking so calm that the twins both found themselves wondering if perhaps she had changed her mind about going through with the Pink Lemonade Charade. But then, from underneath the blue bathrobe she was wearing, a small piece of pink fabric slipped out at the hem. Quickly Natasha tucked it away, but not before giving Chris and Susan a look that told them she was more than ready to proceed.

  “Thank you so much, Susan and Christine. I am pleased you have enjoyed the ballet so much.”

  “We sure did. It was great.” As Chris spoke, she gently shut the door behind her. Even so, the three girls continued with their little charade, acting as if the Pratt twins were, indeed, up to nothing more than a friendly backstage visit with their new friend and favorite ballerina.

  But once the door was closed, Natasha stood up, slipped off her bathrobe, and hung it on a hook.

  “I hope you were able to follow the story,” Natasha said. “Is such a lovely story, all about little doll who comes to life.”

  “Oh, yes!” Chris said heartily. “We could tell exactly what was going on.”

  After casting a rueful look at her twin, she exchanged places with Natasha, taking the seat on the couch where only moments before the Russian girl had been sitting. Natasha, meanwhile, now stood where Chris had been, right next to Susan.

  Chris surveyed them both nervously.

  Yes, she decided, if no one looks at their faces too closely, Natasha just might manage to pass herself off as Christine Pratt....

  “Well,” Susan said, suddenly anxious to get away, “we’d better not take up any more of your time, Natasha. We just wanted to say good-bye. We both really enjoyed getting to know you.”

  “Good-bye, good-bye!” all three girls called loudly.

  And then, without wasting another moment, Susan and Natasha left the dressing room, closing the door behind them.

  They walked quickly, but not as if they were in a hurry. Natasha took care to keep her head down, and to try to stay in the shadows as she walked. Susan, meanwhile, chattered away, acting as if absolutely nothing were out of the ordinary.

  “Gee, that was such a wonderful ballet,” she said loudly. “And that Natasha certainly is nice. She’s an incredible dancer, too.”

  “Mmph,” Natasha mumbled, nodding.

  “I, um, wonder if, um, we’ll ever get to see her again.” In her growing nervousness, Susan was running out of things to say. But she forced herself to keep talking as the two girls continued to walk down the corridor, through the Kennedy Center’s backstage area, heading toward the back doors. “Maybe we could keep in touch. You know, write letters back and forth.”

  So far, so good, Susan was thinking.

  And then, all of a sudden, her heartbeat quickened. There, up ahead, was a small group of ballet dancers, the other members of the dance troupe that the twins had passed on their way to the dressing room; dancers who would, of course, recognize Natasha immediately.

  “Uh-oh,” she whispered. “Here comes Ivan and Dimitri and Katya.”

  Natasha muttered something in Russian. Susan didn’t need a translation; she could imagine exactly what the Russian girl must be feeling at that moment. Automatically she reached for her arm, gripping it rightly as if to lead her through the obstacle ahead, or at least to offer her support.

  “Look! Is twins again!” Ivan called gaily. “Goodbye, Chris and Susan. Thank you for being such kind hostesses here in your country.”

  And then, when Natasha and Susan were only ten feet or so away from the small gathering of dancers, Susan’s heart felt as if it had stopped. There, standing in the shadows behind them, his arms folded firmly across his chest, was Mr. Pirov.

  * * *

  Chris, meanwhile, was sitting alone in the dressing room, waiting, her heart pounding as fast and as hard as a jackhammer.

  All I have to do, she was thinking, is stay out of sight for a few more minutes, keeping my fingers crossed and hoping that Susan and Natasha manage to sneak out of the Kennedy Center without any problem. And then, after enough time has gone by, I’ll slip out of here myself. And one thing’s for sure: As soon as I see Sooz back at the hotel, I’m going to insist that she tell me every single detail about how the “Pratt twins” exit went!

 
She stayed very still, holding her breath as she listened to Susan and Natasha’s footsteps fade away, as well as Susan’s cheerful voice, going on and on about how much she had enjoyed the ballet. Chris was wondering exactly how long she should stay there, and, in fact, how she would even be sure of how much time had gone by, since she wasn’t wearing a wristwatch, when she heard soft footsteps outside the closed door.

  Her heart was pounding harder than ever. One thing she was sure of was that less than a minute had passed since Susan and Natasha had left, not nearly enough time for them to slip out of the building. If there really was someone lurking outside, listening, perhaps, anxious to hear what was going on behind the closed door, she would have to do some pretty fancy footwork to stall for time.

  And then, after a few seconds of dead silence, she heard the barely perceptible rattle of the doorknob as someone placed a hand on it very lightly. Before she had even had a chance to brace herself, the door swung open.

  The worst thing that could possibly have happened had just happened.

  Mrs. Korsky, Mr. Pirov’s dour sidekick, was standing three feet away from Chris.

  The Russian “chaperone’s” very first words verified Chris’s initial assumption, that she was bound to be wondering what on earth Christine Pratt was doing, sitting all alone in Natasha Samchenko’s dressing room.

  “Miss Pratt! What are you doing in Natasha’s dressing room?” Mrs. Korsky growled. “And which twin are you?”

  “I’m Christine, Mrs. Korsky. And I’m, uh, hiding,” she replied, unable to conceal her nervousness.

  “Hiding? And from whom—or what—are you hiding?”

  Chris’s mind raced. Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if Mrs. Korsky could hear it. The only thing she could think of was that she had been caught. And as if that weren’t bad enough, she had been caught before Susan and Natasha had had a chance to sneak out of the building, at least according to her mental calculations. If Mrs. Korsky became suspicious and went off in search of her, anxious to find out what was going on, Natasha would be caught ... and so would Susan. All three of them would be in big trouble. Only the implications for the Russian ballerina would no doubt be far, far greater than they would be for Chris and Susan.

  “I ... uh ... you . . .”

  Chris gulped. Mrs. Korsky was staring at her with cold, hard eyes, her face now only a few inches away from Chris’s. Her mind was a blank. She couldn’t think straight in this panic she had suddenly been thrown into....

  And then, all of a sudden, she had a brainstorm.

  “I’m hiding from that awful boy, Skip Desmond.” Instantly she had regained her cool. “You’ve got to help me, Mrs. Korsky. You remember him, don’t you?”

  “Of course I remember. Everyone at party tonight noticed what a—how do you say, maker of trouble—he was.” With a funny little smile, she added, “When you pour drink on him, Christine, I secretly am glad.”

  Chris couldn’t help smiling herself—and not only because she found she was managing successfully to stall for time, either.

  See, she thought triumphantly, even Mrs. Korsky has an understanding streak. Maybe, underneath, she’s not so bad after all....

  But it didn’t take long for her to remember what her mission here tonight was all about.

  “Yeah, well, that creepy Skip followed me backstage, after the performance—which was beautiful, by the way. We all enjoyed it so much, ... Anyway, he came after me, still angry about before—not that I blame him, of course, although he only got exactly what he deserved....”

  Chris could feel her cheeks growing red as she chattered on and on, trying to hold Mrs. Korsky so that Susan and Natasha would have enough time to get away. But she was terribly frightened, even as she saw that her ploy was actually working. Underneath the fabric of her pink dress, she was trembling all over. And she couldn’t help worrying about just how long she could go on.

  And then her face lit up as she happened to catch sight of a familiar face passing by in the corridor outside.

  “Skip!” she cried, without thinking.

  Immediately she clasped her hand over her mouth.

  “Uh-oh,” she moaned, looking at Mrs. Korsky with what she hoped looked like real terror. “Now I’ve done it! I don’t know what came over me....”

  “Don’t worry,” Mrs. Korsky assured her. “I will not let this maker of trouble disturb you any longer.”

  By then, Skip had realized that it was Chris who had called his name. He came into the dressing room, looking a bit sheepish, she couldn’t help noticing.

  “Hi, Chris,” said Skip, sounding almost friendly. “Beth told me she thought she’d seen you come back here, and I was kind of hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you alone. I wanted to say something about what happened before—”

  “Get away from me, you—you animal!” Chris cried, jumping back and pretending to be afraid. “You won’t get away with any more of your childish behavior!”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that—”

  “Don’t you touch me!”

  “Hey, I didn’t come near you—”

  “Young man,” Mrs. Korsky interrupted, “I suggest that you leave right now, before there is any more trouble. You have bothered this nice young woman enough for one night.”

  “Wait a second. I didn’t—”

  “Enough!”

  Chris didn’t know whether she felt like laughing or crying as she watched Skip slink away, out of the dressing room. It was obvious to her that he had come looking for her in order to try to apologize, to set things right between them, once and for all; yet she had been forced to go on pretending they were the worst of enemies.

  Still, she had to keep things in perspective. After all, there was something much bigger going on here; she simply had to keep that in mind.

  I’ll just have to set things right with Skip some other time, she thought ruefully.

  As for now, Mrs. Korsky had taken it upon herself to escort Chris back to her group personally, and Chris had every intention of making sure they took a different route to the lobby than the one she knew Susan and Natasha were taking.

  “Christine Pratt, I will stay with you until you are back with the others to make sure that no harm comes to you tonight from that—that—” And she finished her sentence by saying a word in Russian.

  “Thanks a lot, Mrs. Korsky,” said Chris. And despite the terror that still gripped her heart, she smiled.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, Susan was resisting the temptation to break into a run, dragging Natasha along with her, past Dimitri and Ivan and Katya, past Mr. Pirov, out of the Kennedy Center.

  I have to act natural, she was thinking.

  She glanced over at her Russian friend, expecting that there would be terror in Natasha’s eyes. Instead, she was surprised to see that she looked perfectly calm. And then she remember that acting was part of dancing ballet.

  Even so, she knew that Natasha had to be at least as frightened as she was. After all, even before they reached Mr. Pirov, they had to pass by three of Natasha’s good friends. Her “disguise” would only do so much good; they both knew full well that if she were forced to utter even a single word in her attempt to act the part of one of the Pratt twins, her accent would give her away.

  Susan decided it was time for a quick switch of personalities.

  “Hi, guys!” she said loudly. “Boy oh boy, as sure as my name is Christine Pratt, I’ve never been so impressed with anything in my entire life! The way you all performed tonight! ... Wow, this sure was something I’ll never forget!”

  “How about you, Susan?’* Katya asked politely The backstage area was in half-darkness by now, since the theater hands were preparing to close up for the night. Natasha was also standing in a deep shadow, keeping her head down and letting her hair fall across her face. Susan could feel her tension as she stood there, with Katya, her closest friend in the whole world, standing only a few feet away. And, of cour
se, she was only too aware that Mr. Pirov was still lurking just a few yards behind the others.

  “Oh, you know Sooz,” Susan said gaily, forcing a loud laugh. “She loves ballet! She thought this was the greatest night of her life! Didn’t you, Sooz?”

  She turned to Natasha, expecting her to nod. But instead, as she looked over, she saw that Natasha’s and Katya’s eyes had locked. Natasha’s eyes were pleading. The expression on Katya’s face, meanwhile, was at first one of recognition, and then one of surprise.

  At about the same moment, Ivan and Dimitri also leaned forward and took a closer look at Susan’s companion. Their faces registered the same shock.

  Susan held her breath.

  And then, suddenly, in a low, even voice, Katya said, “Susan and Chris, you had both better hurry back to your group. You do not want to miss the bus back to your hotel.”

  Then, almost as if it had been prearranged, Katya, Ivan, and Dimitri gathered around the two girls, conversing naturally as they escorted them toward the back doors.

  As they were about to pass Mr. Pirov, Ivan broke away from the small group, exclaiming, “Mr. Pirov, I just realized that I don’t have my airplane ticket! It is not in my dressing room, and I am certain I did not leave it at the hotel.”

  “Ivan, you should know that I have your ticket.” And then Mr. Pirov went on talking to Ivan in Russian. As the other dancers passed by with two young women in pink dresses, he never even gave them a second glance.

  Susan and Natasha hurried out the back door of the Kennedy Center, toward the taxi stand where they knew they could quickly get away to the closest police station. There, Natasha could quickly declare her intention to defect, for the purpose of artistic freedom.

  As Susan called out one last good-bye over her shoulder, catching a final look at Katya and Dimitri as she headed out the back door with Natasha, she squeezed her Russian friend’s arm tightly. There were tears in both girls’ eyes as, side by side, they walked out of the Kennedy Center together.

  Chapter Twelve

  RUSSIAN BALLERINA DEFECTS! read the headlines of Sunday morning’s Washington Post.