The perfect book for kids who are fans of  Dancing with the Stars: Juniors ! Football hero. Ninja freestyler. It's seventh grade. Anything is possible. All Dillon wants is to be a real dancer. And if he wins a summer scholarship at Dance-Splosion, he’s on his way. The problem? His dad wants him to play football. And Dillon’s freestyle crew, the Dizzee Freekz, says that dance studios are for sellouts. His friends want Dillon to kill it at the audition—so he can turn around and tell the studio just how wrong their rules and creativity-strangling ways are. At first, Dillon’s willing to go along with his crew’s plan, even convincing one of the snobbiest girls at school to work with him on his technique. But as Dillon’s dancing improves, he wonders: what if studios aren’t the enemy? And what if he actually has a shot at winning the scholarship?  Dillon’s life is about to get crazy . . . on and off the dance floor in this kid-friendly humorous debut by Brooks Benjamin. ** "I couldn't stop smiling. Equal parts hilarious and heartwarming , Dillon's journey to find his people and his place in the world will charm everyone lucky enough to come along for the ride."-- Jessica Cluess, author of  A Shadow Bright and Burning “A rollicking, big-hearted breakdance of a book. It’s a story about friendship that’s got all the moves : humor both sly and slapstick, a diverse cast of characters, and a winning narrator who’s trying to learn how to follow his heart, find the beat, and dance his pants right off.” — Kate Hattemer, author of The Vigilante Poets of Selwyn Academy Praise for MY SEVENTH-GRADE LIFE IN TIGHTS: "Equal parts jazz hands and karate chop, with a dash of football and a pirouette of pure heart. Dillon and the Dizzee Freekz are en pointe. This book will rock you ! "--Kristin O'Donnell Tubb, author of The 13th Sign "An earnest first novel with a solid message about finding out who you are on your own terms ."-- Kirkus " A fresh and winning debut about the power of self-expression ."-- Booklist In sixth grade, Brooks Benjamin formed a New Kids on the Block tribute dance crew called the New Kidz. He wasn’t that good at dancing. But now he’s got a new crew—his wife and their dog. They live in Tennessee, where he teaches reading and writing and occasionally busts out a few dance moves. He’s still not very good at it. brooksbenjamin.com @brooksbenjamin on Twitter l I stared deep into the world of two-faced backstabbery. And it was all inside my phone. I never would’ve found the website on my own, but I’d set a Google alert about a month earlier for become a real dancer. I’d also set up one for ninja movie audition and free concert in Sunnydale, but those never gave me anything useful. This alert was different. I leaned against the bathroom sink and scrolled down the page. Dance-Splosion, the biggest dance studio in east Tennessee, was giving away a three-week summer scholarship in June to one lucky dancer. And this was the last week they were taking submissions. At the bottom was a picture showing a wall of their dancers, each one posing like the show had just ended and the crowd was cheering so hard the ceiling was about to cave in. I imagined my name in a Broadway show program: Introducing twelve-year-old Dillon Parker, dancing some awesome style and definitely not the lame ninja freestyle one he made up. Below the picture was the Dance-Splosion slogan: Where real dancers are made. Those five little words had me trapped in a bathroom with my crew waiting for me outside. A real dancer. Every time I thought about it, my stomach twisted into a knot. But there was no way I could go through with it. Not without hating myself afterward. “Dillon, you almost finished?” Kassie’s voice crept in through the door crack and yanked me back to earth. I shoved the phone into my pocket. “Um, yeah. Just need to, um--flush.” I pushed the lever on the toilet, ran the water for a minute, and opened the door into my den. “Dude, we thought you fell in or something,” Austin said, standing behind his camera, cleaning his glasses on his shirt. “Kassie was about to send Carson in to pull you out of the plumbing.” Kassie laughed. “Okay, we’ve got time for one more run-through.” Her eyes landed on me. “You up for it?” “Yeah. Definitely.” She pulled her jet-black hair into a ponytail. One curl fell down over her forehead. It always did that. Like that one bit of hair refused to go along with the rest. That was totally Kassie. A rebel. Some of the kids had teased her when she first moved here from Haiti. But she’d never let them bother her. “All right, we’re rolling,” Austin said, then glanced at the lights flickering above us. “Hold on.” Carson let out a loud groan. “Perfect. Last practice before school starts and we’re going to look like we’re dancing in a lightning storm.” His entire body perked up. “Ooh, that might actually be cool. Let’s start before it turns normal again.” “Trust me, it looks terr