Red(66)
“Felicity?” Haylie asked. “Can I—”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Felicity said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She snatched her tap costume off the rack and took it into one of the three individual bathrooms off the dressing area. She could hear someone retching in the next stall—a common occurrence on pageant days—and tried her hardest not to listen. Sitting cross-legged on the tile floor with her jacket spread over her knees, she uncapped her Sharpie and very carefully started blacking out jewel after jewel.
Ten minutes later, the center of the heart was adorned with a large black skull and crossbones.
“Take that,” Felicity whispered, not entirely sure if she was speaking to Ella-Mae Finch, the pageant judges, Gabby, or her mother.
Fifteen minutes before the pageant began, Felicity was fastening her lucky shamrock necklace when her mom bustled in, clad in a gold cocktail dress. “The dressing room is now closed to visitors,” she announced. “Family members and friends, please wish your girls luck and take your seats in the auditorium. Enjoy the pageant, everyone!”
After a flurry of emotional good-byes, Ginger gathered all the contestants in a circle. “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for, girls,” she said. “You’re all ready for this, so hold your heads high, be proud, and respect yourselves and each other. I want to see humble winners and gracious losers out there.” She didn’t bother to say, “All of you are winners,” as most pageant directors would. She clearly didn’t believe that for a second.
“All right, everyone, hands in the middle,” she directed, and the girls squished together, piling up their manicured hands. “ ‘Go, Miss Scarlet’ on three. Ready? One, two, three!”
The girls shouted, “Go, Miss Scarlet!” no one louder than Ginger. “Five minutes till lineup, ten minutes till showtime!” she called as everyone flew back to their mirrors for last-minute touch-ups. Felicity’s stomach gave another lurch when Ginger blew her a kiss from the doorway, her smile full of warmth and pride. For a mad moment, she considered chasing her mom into the hallway and spilling out all her secrets. I’m not the sweet, obedient daughter you think I am. I don’t even like pageants. I can’t stand your music, so I’m using my own. I tampered with the interview questions. Oh, and I’m about to fight my blackmailer in front of the whole town, even though you explicitly told me not to.
But confessing wouldn’t change anything—it would only make her mom hysterical. These were burdens she had to carry alone. But in just a few hours, it would all be over. Her hand automatically sought her right hip, where Jonathan’s note had been nestled all week, before she remembered she had no pockets in her skirt. She felt strangely unmoored without the little square of paper.
Haylie reached out to take Felicity’s and Ivy’s hands. “I love you guys,” she said, her voice weighty with emotion. “No matter what happens out there, I’m just so glad we’re all here together.”
“Love you too,” Felicity said. She squeezed Haylie’s hand. “Break a leg out there. You too, Ives.”
“You probably shouldn’t say that,” Ivy said, looking around at everyone’s spiky heels. “I wouldn’t be surprised if someone actually did.” True to her word, she was wearing flats.
Before she headed upstairs, Felicity took a last long look at her reflection. Her royal-blue blouse and black pencil skirt were crisp and wrinkle-free. Her makeup looked perfect, and her hair was as red as it had ever been. She gave a practice smile, and the girl who beamed back at her from the mirror looked relaxed, confident, eager to command the stage. She thought of Gabby sitting in the press section, prepared to expose her at any moment, but her reflection betrayed no anxiety. Her pageant-girl mask was flawless.
“Time to show everyone what you’re made of,” she whispered to herself.
The girls filed up the stairs and into the wings, an army of high heels punching the hardwood floor. When they were all lined up, Haylie in the lead and Madison in the rear, Brenda spoke into her headset. “I have all twelve girls stage right, ready to go. Stage left, do you have Ginger, Georgia, and the emcee?” There was a pause, and then Brenda said, “Great. Let’s get started. Send Ginger out.”
Light flooded the stage, and Felicity watched her mom step up to the lectern, grinning and waving with both hands as the entire auditorium erupted in cheers. “Good afternoon, Scarletville!” she called. “I’m Ginger St. John, pageant director and the head of the Scarletville Pageant Committee! Welcome to the seventy-fifth-anniversary Miss Scarlet Pageant! The twelve spectacular girls you’re about to see are upholding a time-honored tradition today. They have some very big shoes to fill, but I have no doubt they’ll rise to the challenge.”
She introduced each of the five judges, and wave after wave of applause and cheering crashed through the auditorium. It sounded like there were thousands of people in the house. Felicity could feel the adrenaline starting to pump through her body, and she shook out her hands to release some nervous energy. In front of her, Ariel was breathing in shallow little gasps.
Ginger handed the microphone to the emcee, Donna Marie Sullivan, who had been crowned Miss Scarlet ten years ago. She stood at least six foot three in her heels and shimmered like a mermaid in her iridescent turquoise gown. Donna Marie explained how the pageant was scored—thirty percent for the interview portion, forty for the talent portion, and ten percent each for the personal introduction, swimwear, and evening wear portions. Then she introduced Georgia, who bounced onstage in a little black dress and belted out “Our Sacred Scarlet Home.” The crowd roared its approval, and then Felicity saw Brenda tap Haylie on the shoulder and nod toward the stage.