Red(57)

“Perfect,” Ginger said. “Baby, I’m going to pick up the twins, and then I think we need to work on your pivot turns. They weren’t quite as sharp as I’d like them to be.”

But Felicity wasn’t listening to her mother. Scrawled across the page of Gabby’s notebook, which was now casually angled in her direction, were the words

I have another job for you. Get ready.

Now that Felicity had ammunition, she knew she could hold her own in a fight against Gabby. If necessary, she could probably even find a way to expose the salon to the mayor before the pageant. Every time she walked into school, she steeled herself as if she were walking into the trenches, her nerves strung taut as a tightrope.

But for three days, nothing happened.

Gabby clearly knew that Felicity feared uncertainty, and she used that to her advantage. As she waited for her enemy’s summons, Felicity existed in a constant state of fight-or-flight. Everything sent her into a startled panic: her brother knocking over his milk at dinner, a classmate using a staple gun in the art studio, excited cheerleaders shrieking in the hall. Every day, she lived for the moment when she could get into bed with her iPod, let her guard down for a few hours, and let Sharks in Heaven sing her to sleep.

Felicity still hadn’t heard from Gabby by the time she visited Rouge-o-Rama on Thursday. To Rose, this appointment was the same as any other, and she chattered away about how excited she was about the pageant. But Felicity knew this might be her last time at the salon, and a deep sense of nostalgia and sadness began to eat away at her steely resolve. For her whole life, this room had been her sanctuary, the one place where she didn’t have to pretend to be something she wasn’t. Rose’s flawless work had secured her popularity and kept her from being ridiculed at school. It had ensured that she wasn’t a disappointment to her mother. In a way, Felicity had Rose to thank for everything she’d become. Could she really repay her stylist by betraying her and bringing her whole world crashing down?

But Rose would be fine. She was an intelligent, capable adult who could easily start over somewhere else. People moved all the time. Everyone needed stylists, and outside of Scarletville, Rose wouldn’t have to keep her skills with dye a secret. Felicity told herself that by keeping herself safe, she might actually be doing the Vaughns a favor.

Her appointment sped by in a haze of distraction, and before Felicity knew it, her hair was dry and perfumed. Rose walked her to the door and gave her a big hug and a kiss on each cheek. “I’d say good luck, but I know you don’t need it,” she said. “You’ll be just beautiful up there. I’m so proud of you.”

The warmth in Rose’s eyes ignited Felicity’s guilt, and she suddenly felt as if a small animal were trying to chew its way out of her gut. “Thanks,” she choked. “And thanks for … you know, everything.” She held up a lock of coppery hair.

“Of course,” Rose said. “But there’s so much more to you than that.”

She ushered Felicity into the down elevator with a smile and closed the salon door. Despite Felicity’s best efforts, a few renegade tears slipped down her cheeks as she rode the juddering elevator to the second floor.

She arrived at City Hall half an hour before her sound check slot, so she headed for one of the stone benches that flanked the front door. She cued up “Cookie-Cutter Girl” on her iPod as she walked, eager to feel those strong opening chords crash through her body and chase away some of her guilt and sadness. And that was why it took her a minute to notice Gabby, who was basking in the sun on the next bench over.

Felicity cursed under her breath. For a minute, it seemed like Gabby might be asleep, and she wondered if she could sneak away unnoticed. But then her enemy sat up, stretched like a cat, and smiled. “Felicity,” she said lazily. “What a nice surprise. Come on, let’s go inside and have a little chat.”

As she followed Gabby into City Hall, Felicity reached into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around Jonathan’s note for comfort—she’d been carrying it with her as a lucky charm since Monday. You can do this, she told herself. You have just as much power as Gabby does. But her heart obviously didn’t get the message, because it refused to slow down.

Gabby led her up a flight of stairs and down a long, echoing hallway, then ushered her into a room near the end. When she turned on the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, Felicity saw that they were in the Scarletville Community Players’ props closet. The shelves were piled high with random items that appeared to be completely unsorted: a stack of shields, a lace parasol, a basket full of Mardi Gras beads, a plastic ham. Three taxidermy deer heads gazed down at her from a high shelf with their creepy glass eyes. The closet was tiny, forcing Felicity and Gabby to stand uncomfortably close together, and the overly warm air was filled with dust. Felicity sneezed several times in rapid succession.

Gabby dug through her bag, then presented Felicity with a gold envelope marked with the number four and a folded sheet of white paper. “This is your new interview question for the pageant, and this is the answer you’re going to give,” Gabby said. “Make sure you memorize it by Saturday.”

Felicity stared at the envelope. “My … what? But … my mom already has the questions. What am I supposed to do with this?”

Gabby rolled her eyes. “Seriously, it’s like I have to spell everything out for you. You’re going to go into your mom’s office and swap them, genius.”