Red(71)

She gripped the microphone tightly.

“I think it’s incredibly important to have people with other hair colors in Scarletville,” she said, speaking the words Gabby had written. “It’s small-minded and irresponsible to have a community that’s entirely made up of one type of person. That kind of environment promotes intolerance and stereotyping.”

Gabby’s lips curled into a smile—everything was going according to her plan.

And then Felicity deviated from the script.

“People in this town are terrified no one will respect them if they don’t have red hair, that no one will even see them. And I know that firsthand, because I’ve had those same fears my whole life.”

Gabby’s smile faltered, and Felicity stared right into her adversary’s eyes as she said the words she had been holding back for seventeen years.

“I’m a strawbie,” she said. “My hair is dyed, and it has been since I was two years old. My mom knew I wouldn’t have the opportunities I deserved unless I altered the way I looked. Every single day, I’ve lived in fear that someone would find out what I really was. And when someone did discover my secret, I let her blackmail me. I lied to my best friends for her. I lied to my boyfriend, and I lost him because of it. I did everything she told me to do because I was so afraid she’d expose me and I’d lose everything I had. But I hurt people I loved to protect my secret, and it wasn’t worth it. It’s just hair.” She grabbed a handful of perfect coppery curls and held them up for everyone to see. “This is not who I am, and I’m done hiding behind it.”

Felicity turned back to Donna Marie, whose mouth was hanging open. “That’s all I have to say,” she finished. And then she turned around and got back in line.

For a moment, the auditorium was so quiet Felicity could hear her own heartbeat. And then everyone started whispering at once, including the girls on the stage. All five judges stared wide-eyed at Felicity, their notepads forgotten in their limp hands. Ginger was doubled over in her chair, hyperventilating, while another former Miss Scarlet rubbed her back. Brent was slack-jawed, thoroughly horrified by the thought of all the intimate things he’d unwittingly done with a strawbie. Even under all her makeup, Haylie’s face looked ashen, and she stared at Felicity as if she had never seen her before.

But Jonathan and Ms. Kellogg were still smiling at her, and Gabby’s eyes were wide with dismay as she watched her powerful hold on Felicity slip away. Ariel gave Felicity’s shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze. And when Felicity turned and searched Ivy’s face for signs of disgust, she found nothing but genuine surprise.

“Way to go out with a bang,” her friend whispered. “Now, excuse me, I have to think of something really shocking to say. I can’t let you outdo me like that.”

Ivy strode toward the whispering crowd, her green Converse sneakers peeking out from under the hem of her gown, and adjusted the microphone as if nothing were out of the ordinary. She looked at Donna Marie expectantly. The emcee stared back, uncomprehending, and fanned herself with the stack of interview envelopes.

“Hi,” Ivy finally said. “Do you have a question for me, or are we done here? Because I’ve got a pint of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch and last week’s episode of Granny Smackdown waiting for me at home.”

Somehow, the interview portion of the pageant finally came to an end. “Now we’ll take a break while the judges tally the scores,” Donna Marie said, obvious relief on her face. “When we return, we’ll crown our new Miss Scarlet!”

Ivy attached herself to Felicity’s side like a barnacle the moment they were offstage. “If people want to mess with you, they’ll have to mess with me first,” she said in answer to Felicity’s questioning look.

Felicity was so grateful she almost cried. “Where’s Haylie?” she asked.

“She’s probably already downstairs. That girl moves like a—”

Ivy broke off when Felicity went flying into her, propelled by an accidentally-on-purpose shoulder shove from Madison. “Oh, sorry, strawbie,” Madison sneered. “I didn’t notice you there. You people really are harder to see.” She brushed past and flounced down the stairs.

Felicity stared after her. “Way to defend me, Ives.”

“Not even worth it,” Ivy said. “She’s a stupid cow.”

When they reached the dressing room, Felicity paused. Her adrenaline was wearing off, and she didn’t think she could put on a brave face for one more second. “Ives, I can’t go in there right now. I just—I need a minute, okay?” She eyed the small, empty hallway that ran along the side of the dressing room.

Ivy straightened up to her unimpressive full height. “I’ll cover you if you want to hang out over there for a while.”

“Great.” She hugged Ivy tightly. “Thanks for not freaking out.”

“About what? Your hair? Do you seriously think I care what color your hair is? Hey, listen, if you want to shave your head, I’ll totally do it with you. I’ve been looking for an excuse anyway. It makes you so aerodynamic.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Tell Haylie I’m out here, okay?”

Felicity took off her heels and spent a few minutes pacing up and down the cold, empty hallway in her bare feet, thinking about what she had just done. Her whole life teetered precariously like a building after an earthquake, not quite sure whether to collapse. She no longer had any idea who her friends were, how she should expect to be treated, where she fell on the social ladder. She had never had to think about things like that before. Nobody did when they were at the top.