Red(69)

It was time to go.

Before Brenda could grab her, Felicity ran out onto the stage. She smiled at the judges, then struck her first pose.

The opening chords of “Cookie-Cutter Girl” crashed through the speakers. And as Felicity danced to the song she loved, the rest of the world fell away, and all that mattered was the music pulsing through her body and the staccato rhythms of her feet on the floor. She flew over the stage, knowing every step was right, and she finally felt as if she were exactly where she was supposed to be. She didn’t even have to try to smile.

When the Sharks in Heaven song ended, the swell of applause pulled her back down to earth. There was no full-crowd standing ovation, but Felicity was pleased to see that many people were on their feet. Jonathan was one of them, a goofy grin plastered on his face. She smiled back in a way that she hoped said, That was for you. “Go, Lissy!” her brothers shrieked over and over, and she looked right at them as she took her bow. She glanced at the judges and tried to gauge their reactions, but their faces were unreadable as they scribbled in their notepads.

Finally, when she couldn’t avoid it any longer, she forced herself to look at her mom.

She had expected to see anger and confusion, but she wasn’t prepared for the look of pure devastation she saw. Ginger sat perfectly still as the crowd clapped and cheered around her, both hands pressed to her chest as if her heart were in danger of falling out. Her eyes were huge and uncomprehending, like a dog who had just been kicked by its loving owner.

It’s just a song, Felicity wanted to tell her. Don’t take it personally—I rejected Ella-Mae Finch, not you. And didn’t you see how much better I danced when I was actually proud of what I was doing? Can’t you tell how much everyone liked it?

But she couldn’t say any of that. Her three minutes were up, and it was time to get off the stage. Felicity turned and walked away, wondering how it was possible to feel defiant, proud, relieved, and heartbroken all at the same time.

Haylie embraced her the moment she was in the wings. “You were fabulous,” she whispered. “I couldn’t believe how fast your feet were going. How’d you get your mom to agree to that awesome new music? She was so set on that stupid jazz song.”

“She didn’t know. I went in the booth and swapped the CDs this morning. I just couldn’t go through with the other song. It was just so … not me.” Haylie’s eyes widened, and all the excitement drained from her face. “Hays, what’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“You didn’t get it approved?” Even at a whisper, Haylie’s voice was laden with anxiety.

“No. I know my mom’s probably going to throw a fit about it later, but it’s just a song, so I’m hoping she’ll get over it when—”

“Felicity, didn’t you read the pageant rule book? You’re not allowed to change anything about your routine after the last rehearsal unless you get it approved by the pageant committee.”

Felicity’s blood turned to ice. Her mom’s dire expression suddenly made sense. It wasn’t just a song; it was a punishable offense. The pageant rule book was Ginger’s bible, and she knew exactly how much trouble her daughter was in.

“What are they going to do to me? Will they dock points?”

“Maybe, but … Felicity, they could vote to disqualify you.”

As if from a very great distance, Felicity heard Ivy start playing “You’re a Grand Old Flag” on the kazoo.

And that was the last thing she heard before she fled.





18


     SATURDAY, MAY 29


Felicity sat on the bathroom floor, her back against the locked door and her tearstained face buried in her hands. Her mascara was rubbing off all over the place, but it didn’t matter now. It was hard to believe she’d been in here less than two hours ago, blacking out the jewels on her jacket and feeling optimistic.

If she really was disqualified, she had just traded a lifetime of pursuing her dreams for three minutes of defiant individuality. Maybe there was a reason she had spent her whole life letting other people tell her what to do, how to look, and who to be. She clearly couldn’t be trusted to make good decisions for herself.

Haylie had been knocking on the door unrelentingly for the past five minutes. “Come on, Felicity, let us in,” she called for the thousandth time. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t cry now. You’ll have to totally redo your eye makeup.”

“Too late,” Felicity called back. Her voice sounded wet and choked, as if she had a goldfish in her throat.

“Then let me in so I can help you. We’ve got twenty minutes. But you have to stop crying now, or you’ll look all red and puffy.”

Felicity grabbed a wad of toilet paper and blew her nose. She wanted to spend the rest of the day locked in this bathroom, where she couldn’t make any more stupid mistakes. But Gabby was in the audience, watching her every move and waiting for her to slip up. If Felicity didn’t stand up on that stage and take her enemy down today, she might never get another chance. Maybe the mayor could even convince the pageant judges to go easy on her in exchange for the juicy information about the salon. Maybe it wasn’t too late to redeem herself.

She stood up and unlocked the door.

Haylie and Ivy pushed inside carrying Felicity’s makeup bag, shoes, and gown. “Wash your face,” Haylie ordered, shoving a towel and a tube of face wash into her hands.