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Chaplin.
    J. J. nodded and took a seat on the floor. “Great. Let’s see it.”
    â€œSee it?” Scarlett gasped. “You mean now?”
    â€œYeah. Just go on with what you were all doing. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be a fly on the wall.”
    Bria shrugged. It was no use trying to hide what they were up to. “We’re not actually rehearsing the group number,” she confessed. “Everyone was just helping me do an extra-credit science project on earthworms.”
    J. J. nodded. “So that’s why I saw you all do a pretty poor imitation of the worm dance?”
    Rochelle rested her hands on her hips. Ofcourse, he had been spying on them through the crack in the door! “It was not a poor imitation. I choreographed it.”
    J. J. chuckled. He dropped down on the floor and began “worming” across it. “See how the body ripples? You want to keep the arms and elbows strong and let the rest be fluid. Pop up, flow down, pop up, flow down …”
    Scarlett elbowed Rochelle. “He does do a good worm.”
    â€œFine. Thanks for showing us,” Rochelle said.
    â€œLet me see what else you got,” J. J. said, jumping to his feet. “Maybe I can help you refine it.”
    â€œThat would be so nice of you!” Bria exclaimed.
    â€œWe got it under control,” Rochelle countered. “Thanks.”
    J. J. raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You wouldn’t want the choreographer who did Justin Timberlake’s last concert gig to lend you a hand?”
    â€œJT?” Anya gasped. “I love him! That is so amazing!”
    Rochelle rolled her eyes. “We wouldn’t want JT’s choreographer ratting us out to Miss Toni.”
    J. J. grinned. “I see. So I’m a spy, is that it?”
    Rochelle shrugged. “You said it. Not us.”
    â€œWell, what if I promised not to breathe a word to your dance teacher? I can keep a secret.” He pretended to lock up his lips and throw away the key.
    â€œI think we can trust him,” Bria said quietly. “He seems really nice.”
    Rochelle shrugged.
    J. J. paced the studio floor. “So you really wanna impress this science teacher, right?”
    Bria nodded. “Totally! I need at least a B plus or my mom will never let me go to Hollywood.”
    â€œThen, I say make it authentic. You won’t find any earthworms rolling around Miss Toni’s squeaky-clean dance studio. You need dirt.”
    Gracie jumped up and down. “I love dirt! Do we get to roll in the dirt?”
    â€œI think you should take this shoot out back behind the studio. That way you can get down
and
dirty … You know what I’m saying?”
    â€œIt’s a really good idea, Bria,” Scarlett piped up. “We can shoot some close-ups of the grass and maybe even find some real worms.”
    â€œIn dance and life, authenticity is everything,” J. J. added. “I’m happy to record it for you on my phone. And we can add a pretty decent beat box.”
    Bria grabbed Rochelle by the arm and tugged. “Come on, guys! What are we waiting for? Let’s get wiggling!”

The Divas filed out behind the studio. “This is an awesome spot,” Bria declared, smudging soil across her cheeks and forehead. “Who knew? We never get outside the studio!”
    Anya agreed, jumping in a huge pile of crunchy, colorful fall leaves. “In L.A., we never get to see the leaves change like this. I’m lovin’ this!”
    J. J. whistled through his teeth to get their attention. “Okay, let’s focus. Rub some dirt on your faces, your leotards, your tights. Worms are not clean, so let me see it.”
    They shot for over two hours, creating a grandfinale where Bria rolled down a hill and landed in a pile of leaves.
    She stood up, faced the camera and rapped: “
Worms eat food scraps—so I’m your friend. It passes through my body and out my