Red(56)

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. But I have to return it, so if you could leave it for me in the art room or something, that would be awesome.” Jonathan’s eyes darted around, as if he were casing the joint for a robbery. He seemed even more jittery than usual today. “I’ve gotta go, okay?”

“Sure.” Felicity wanted to say all kinds of things about how much fun she’d had on Saturday night, but she just held up the CD and said, “I can’t wait to listen to this.”

As soon as Jonathan was gone, she pulled the notebook paper out of the plastic sleeve and unfolded it, eager to see the song titles. But it wasn’t a track list at all. Written in Jonathan’s neat, blocky print, the paper said:

Felicity,

Here’s the Sharks in Heaven album I promised. Hope you like it.

Thanks for making my prom night into something I actually want to remember.

You are definitely not a cookie-cutter girl.

—Jonathan

Felicity’s whole body felt warm as she folded the note into a tight square and tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans. All through the school day and the interminable pageant rehearsal, she was conscious of it nestled close to her hip. Just knowing it was there as she paraded around the stage in endless loops, practicing her pivot turns, poses, and walks, made her feel stronger and calmer. Over and over, her mom shouted, “Chins up! Shoulders back! Tummies tucked! Backs straight!” in an attempt to make her twelve pageant girls look uniform. It helped to know that someone out there appreciated her for being unique.

By the time Ginger reminded the girls to sign up for their sound check slots on Thursday and released them for the evening, Felicity’s face hurt from smiling and her feet ached from her stiff new heels. She clutched Jonathan’s note like a talisman as she hobbled backstage to collect her things from the dressing room. Ivy collapsed into a chair and winced as she peeled off a silver shoe and exposed several angry red blisters. “Ow. Haylie, you seriously owe me for this.”

Haylie gave her a starry-eyed smile. “You’ll be so glad you did it, Ives. I promise. The pageant’s such a great experience.”

Ivy waved her blistered foot in her friend’s face. “See this? This is not a great experience. I never agreed to bleed for this stupid competition. I’m wearing flats from now on.”

“You can’t wear flats in a pageant! That’s just … not how it works!”

“Haylie, I will go through with this ridiculous charade for you, but I will not suffer any more physical pain for it. You managed to trick me into this, but if you want me to stay in, you have to let me do it my way.” Ivy dropped the silver heels into her backpack. “These are going back to the store tomorrow.”

Haylie yanked off her own shoes. “Felicity, tell her she has to play by the same rules as the rest of us.”

Felicity watched a fierce and determined Ivy lace up her green Converse sneakers, and she knew Haylie would never win this fight. Ivy never let anyone manipulate her or tell her what to do, and she never tried to hide who she was. Felicity admired and envied those qualities, especially because she knew she’d never have that kind of freedom. “Let her do what she wants, Hays,” she said. “She’s making a sacrifice just by being here.”

“Thank you, Felicity.” Ivy stood up and grabbed her bag. “You guys ready to go?”

“You can go ahead,” Felicity said. “I need to ask my mom if she wants me to pick up the twins. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Haylie shot her a glare and headed toward the parking lot, Ivy close behind her. Felicity hoped they’d make it to their cars without throwing any punches.

She made her way back to the stage, where she expected to find her mom giving instructions to the pageant volunteers. But instead she found her chatting with Gabby, who was inspecting a box of metallic gold envelopes. It was the first time Felicity had seen Gabby since she’d learned about the exposé, and a pulse of fury ran through her. It’ll all be over in less than a week, she reminded herself. Once you expose the salon to the mayor, she won’t be able to touch you.

“See, the judges have already written the girls’ interview questions, and they’ve numbered them one through twelve,” Ginger was explaining. “The girls drew numbers tonight to determine their order, so that ensures that the questions are assigned randomly.” She looked up and noticed Felicity. “Oh, hi, baby. I was wondering if you were still here. Gabby’s interviewing me for the Crimson Courier.”

Felicity was certain Gabby had more sinister motives for lurking around the pageant rehearsal, but she just swallowed hard and said, “I see that.”

“These envelopes are so great,” Gabby said. “Where did you get them? I need some just like this for a project we’re doing for the newspaper.”

“Crafty Cathy’s, right by the post office.”

Gabby riffled through the envelopes. “What number are you, Felicity?”

Providing Gabby with personal information seemed like a terrible idea—the pageant was still five days away, and until then Felicity knew she wasn’t safe. But her mom was giving her a look that begged her not to antagonize Gabby. “I’m number four,” she said.

Gabby flipped the page of her notebook and made one final note before giving Ginger a big smile. “I think we’re done here, Mrs. St. John. Thanks so much for talking to me. I’ll be back to cover the pageant on Saturday.”