Red(20)
Ginger had gotten teary-eyed at how grown-up her little girl was, and then, to Felicity’s great joy, she had agreed—and handed over her credit card. Felicity had been astonished by her mom’s generosity. She had seen a cell phone bill on the counter just that morning, stamped past due in big red letters; she knew they couldn’t afford anything extravagant. Money had been especially tight lately. But Ginger had waved away Felicity’s concern. “This is the most important thing we could spend our money on,” she had said. “Go get a dress that will win you that prize money and it’ll all be worth it.”
Haylie sat in the front beside Felicity as they sped toward Iowa City, a stack of formal-wear catalogs in her lap and a huge smile on her face. Ivy huddled in the back, scowling at the cornfields out the window. It seemed impossible that anyone could be in a bad mood on such a beautiful day, but Ivy was dedicated to being annoyed, and she wasn’t about to let gorgeous weather get in her way. She had even brought along her calculus book, a monstrous, twelve-hundred-page symbol of her refusal to have fun. Felicity wondered, as she so often did, how Haylie and Ivy managed to stay friends. They’d had almost nothing in common since Ivy had renounced everything “girly” at the beginning of seventh grade. Though there was a lot to be said for having known someone since preschool, Felicity sometimes feared she was the only glue holding her friends together.
As they sped past the sign at the town limit that proclaimed you are now leaving the red zone, Haylie turned in her seat to watch it recede. Felicity could tell that her friend was a little uncomfortable—none of them left the safety of Scarletville very often. “We need a plan of attack,” she announced to distract Haylie from her anxiety.
Haylie turned back around. “I think we should hit the boutiques first, and if we don’t find anything, we can go to the mall. Though we should probably just go to Cedar Rapids or Des Moines if we don’t find good stuff at the small stores. Department-store dresses always look so cheap.”
“Hays, I’m sure there are great dresses for all of us in Iowa City,” Felicity said. She didn’t have the gas money to drive any farther.
“All I’m saying is that it’s important to look our best. This is our last pageant. If I don’t find the perfect gown here, I’m not going to buy something second-rate just to be done with it.”
“I am,” Ivy chimed in. “I’ll wear a dress made out of a potato sack if that’s what’s convenient. Listen, if I find something to wear right away, I’m just gonna go to a coffee shop to study for my math test, okay?”
Haylie looked stricken. “No, you’re not! You have to help us find our dresses!”
In the rearview mirror, Felicity saw a pained expression flicker across Ivy’s face. “Haylie, you do understand that shopping for dresses is the most torturous activity I can imagine, right?”
“We know,” Felicity said. “We really appreciate that you’re doing this. And that you’re doing the pageant at all.”
“If you shop with us the whole day, we’ll let you pick all the movies for our sleepover tonight,” Haylie coaxed.
“All of them? No conditions?”
“No slasher flicks,” Felicity said. “Remember that time we watched The Red Hand of Death and Haylie attacked me in the middle of the night when I got up to pee?”
“Fine. No slasher flicks.” Ivy settled back into her seat looking slightly mollified.
Haylie directed Felicity through the streets of Iowa City until they arrived at the first boutique, Lulu Levine. The two-story brick building was painted flamingo pink, and the sign out front urged passersby to indulge your inner diva! Ivy stared at the shop and rattled off a string of profanities before Felicity ushered her firmly through the door.
If a burlesque theater and an antique store had a baby together, the offspring would look like the interior of Lulu Levine. The three girls gazed around with a mix of horror and fascination—every surface was covered with pink sparkles, distressed gold paint, or mirrors. The wallpaper sported textured leopard spots, and the countertops were crowded with china figurines of cherubs and baby animals. All the furniture was strangely undersized, as if it had been harvested before it was done growing.
When Felicity caught sight of Yolanda, she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. The shop owner’s clothes appeared to have been sewn from the interior decorator’s discarded fabric scraps. She wore heart-shaped sunglasses and at least fifteen strands of pink glass beads, and her bright red hair was teased into a massive mushroom cloud. She was holding a mug in each hand, and when she saw Haylie, she gasped and sloshed coffee over both bangle-clad wrists. “Oh my goddess! It’s Haylie Adams!”
Felicity and Ivy exchanged a mortified look and mouthed, “Oh my goddess?” but Haylie didn’t miss a beat. “Hi, Yolanda, it’s good to see you!” she said. “These are my best friends, Felicity and Ivy. We’re looking for pageant gowns!”
Yolanda put down her coffees and squeezed Haylie tightly. “Your darling mom told me you were competing in Miss Scarlet! Congratulations, sweet pea! What an achievement!” When Haylie finally managed to escape, Yolanda shook Felicity’s and Ivy’s hands with painful enthusiasm. Felicity gaped at her jeweled skull-and-crossbones ring, which was the size of an Oreo.
“Tell me exactly what you’re looking for!” Yolanda said, and Haylie promptly pulled out her catalogs. As she described her dream dress, using wild hand gestures, Felicity started drifting through the clothing racks. Ivy trailed her reluctantly.