Miss Mayhem

by Rachel Hawkins

  “Part of what I saw, yeah,” David said, turning away and heading down the porch steps.

  I stood where I was, and despite the warmth of the late spring afternoon, I suddenly felt very cold. “What was the rest?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  Chapter 31

  THE NIGHT of the pageant was hot and muggy. Mom and Dad still didn’t quite get why I even wanted to do it, but they came anyway. “I missed Cotillion,” Mom had said as she’d carried my baton out to the car, my costume in a garment bag draped over one arm. “I won’t miss this.”

  Without Ryan’s powers, there was no way to keep my parents from coming, although, trust me, I’d been trying to find an excuse. Of course, now I guessed that didn’t matter so much. Alexander had said that the Peirasmos were over, but you couldn’t blame me for not trusting the guy. He’d looked plenty freaked out the last time I’d seen him, and I’d thought he’d sounded sincere. But then I remembered Cotillion and the Ephors’ flair for the dramatic. It would be just like them to make me lower my guard, only to attack when I was unprepared.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  So by the time we got to the rec center, I was already pretty tense.

  So was Sara Plumley. Granted, she wasn’t worrying about the boy she loved possibly turning into a mystical being, but from the way she was running around shrieking, you would think something a lot more dire had happened than one girl running a little late.

  “Harper!” she barked at me as soon as I walked backstage. “I thought you weren’t coming!”

  “It isn’t that big of a deal,” Bee said, walking in behind me. “She was—”

  “What if she hadn’t been here?” Sara near-shrieked. “One girl missing creates a hole in the choreography!”

  With that, she stomped off, clipboard in hand, heels clacking, and as soon as she was gone, Bee and I burst into giggles.

  “Maybe we should have told Sara about Cotillion,” I said, hanging up my talent costume. “It might have put things in perspective.”

  I’d meant to make Bee laugh, but instead, she frowned. And when she reached out to take my hand, I realized she was shaking.

  “Hey, are you all right?” I asked, stepping closer.

  Bee smiled brightly, and something in my stomach twisted. I knew that smile. I’d made that smile before. That was the smile of a girl desperately trying to fake it.

  “What—” I started, but then the lights blinked twice, signaling that it was almost time for the pageant to start.

  “That’s our cue!” Bee chirped, and then she was out of the dressing room, leaving me to trail in her wake, confused.

  We gathered in a straight line toward the back of the stage, and as the curtain went up, music blared from the sound system. I was between Bee and Rebecca Shaw, which made me feel about three feet tall, but that was actually okay. The fewer people noticed me as we launched into our supremely cheesy dance routine (one that involved smiling too hard, thrusting our arms out, and the occasional pivot) the happier I was.

  As I thrust out one hip, I shot a look at Bee out of the side of my eye. Honestly, the things I did to be a good friend.

  The dance portion mercifully over, Sara emerged from the wings. Her dress wasn’t quite as sparkly as the contestants’ were, but she was still wearing her Miss Pine Grove sash and tiara from five years ago.

  Pushing her dark glossy hair back off her shoulders, Sara smiled out at the audience. “Good evening, y’all!” she drawled, the words nearly echoing throughout the room. When there was no reply, she tilted her head a bit, that bright smile stretching even further.

  “I said good evening!” she called again—and I guess once head cheerleader, always a head cheerleader, but I resolved right that second to never, ever be Sara Plumley. In fact, I might turn in my uniform first thing Monday morning.

  After the audience gave her the response she wanted, Sara beamed harder, taking a sip from the water glass on the podium, leaving a bright red lip print on the rim. “All right, folks, we’re going to go ahead and get started,” she announced. “First we’ll give y’all a chance to meet these lovely ladies before proceeding to the talent portion and then the evening gown competition. And before we leave tonight, one of these very lucky girls will be Miss Pine Grove.”

  There was a round of applause for that, and I bit back a sigh. The whole night seemed to stretch out in front of me, and I suddenly wondered what David was doing tonight. Was he sitting all alone in his room, listening to that whiny music I hated? Was he thinking about me?

  Rebecca Shaw had completed her circuit of the stage and answered the judge’s question—the ever-so-original “What would you do if you won the lottery?”—but I hadn’t heard Rebecca’s answer. I assumed it was something equally original, like “Give it all to charity.” It wasn’t until she slid back into place next to me that I remembered I was next.

  I broke off from the rest of the line, walking to the front of the stage as Sara rattled off my name, age, and who my parents were. The lights nearly blinded me and my smile felt frozen on my face as I walked, but I tried to keep my head high and my shoulders back.

  The Aunts and my mom and dad were sitting in the front row, and seeing them, my smile felt a little more natural. But then, in the row behind them, I could see David.

  What was he doing here? My eyes met David’s, and it might have been the lights, but I was sure that his eyes were glowing faintly behind his glasses. Not only that, but his whole body was drawn up tight in his seat.

  Maybe he was weirded out from seeing me after the last time we’d talked, but I wasn’t sure. What I was sure of was how my heart thudded painfully against my ribs when I saw him.

  I was so distracted by worrying about that that I almost walked right past the microphone. It was only when I heard Sara hiss, “Harper,” that I stopped, disoriented. There was the squeal of feedback as I grabbed the mike stand with unsteady hands.

  From behind the podium, Sara winced, but she kept that bright smile on her face as she chirped out, “Harper, your question from the judges tonight is: If there was one thing in your life you could change, what would it be?”

  I swallowed, my eyes still on David’s. In the audience, I could hear the rattle of programs and someone unwrapping a hard candy. The lights were still too bright, and I was suddenly afraid that I might actually be sweating.

  But my voice was calm and sure as I answered, “Nothing.”

  When I didn’t elaborate, Sara gave a nervous laugh. “Not a single thing?”

  David was watching me, sitting up straighter in his seat. The auditorium was full of people, but in that moment, I felt like we were the only people there. “No. I wouldn’t change anything. Not one bit of it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, not everything in my life has been . . . easy. There’s a lot that’s been harder than I ever thought it would be, and there may have been times I’ve wished things were different. But that doesn’t mean I’d ever want to change it. No matter what.”

  My words echoed through the room, but they were only for David, and when he smiled, I smiled back, feeling almost light-headed with relief. Until I’d said the words, I hadn’t realized they were true, but now that I knew, now that I was sure, there was nothing I wanted more than to climb down off this stage and go find David and make things right between us.

  But then Sara gave another one of those laughs and said, “Well, all right, then, Harper. Thank you for your answer.”

  Dismissed, I made my way back to the line of girls, taking my spot beside Bee. She glanced down at me, and something strange passed over her face for a minute. Pursing her lips slightly, she studied my face before turning to the front again.

  The talent portion was next, and as the girls all raced off to the dressing room, I hung back in the wings. Could I just leave? Maybe I could tell Sara I’d gotten sick. The last thing she’d want was one of the girls puking all over her stage, so I was sure she’d let me go.

  I wanted to go
out in the audience and find David, grab him, and get the heck out of here.

  But then Bee stopped beside me, taking my elbow. “Harper? Come on, we need to get changed.”

  “I’m actually thinking I might leave,” I whispered, leaning in close as Rebecca dashed past me in a pink tutu. “I don’t feel so great.”

  Frowning, Bee studied my face. “You can’t leave in the middle of the pageant.”

  With a light laugh, I shrugged. “Why not? You can stay, obviously. To be honest, I’d much rather watch you win from the audience.”

  Bee reached out, her fingers closing around my elbow. “No,” she said firmly. “You can’t leave.”

  I stared up at her, surprised. “Bee, I know you wanted us to do this together, but it’s not really my thing, and I need to talk to David—”

  Her fingers squeezed tighter. “I thought y’all broke up.”

  Shaking off her hand, I stepped back. “We did. Kind of, but that’s not—Bee, are you honestly mad at me because I don’t want to finish the pageant?”

  The lights backstage outlined her in soft blue light, her dress twinkling and shimmering in the gloom. And then I realized she was trembling.

  “Bee?” I asked, and then it hit me.

  Pop Rocks exploded in my stomach, racing through my veins, my whole chest tightening.

  Gasping, I leaned forward, one arm banded around my waist. “I have to go,” I said, panicked. “David—”

  But Bee only grabbed my elbow again, and now she wasn’t so much trembling as shaking. “No,” she said, her voice wavering. “You have to stay.”

  I tried to shake out of her grip again, but she was holding on too tight, and my Paladin powers were no help against hers. “Something is wrong with David,” I told her, reaching out to pry her hand from my arm. “That’s a lot more important than a freaking pageant, Bee.”

  Looking up, our gazes met, and just like that, I understood. Bee wasn’t holding me so that I wouldn’t leave the pageant. That wasn’t what this was about.

  Tears pooled in her big dark eyes. “I’m sorry, Harper,” she said. “But I can’t let you go.”

  Chapter 32

  I FROZE. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But this was Bee. I couldn’t just start swinging fists.

  But apparently Bee didn’t have any reservations on that front. Placing her hands firmly on my shoulders, she shoved, hard.

  It was enough to send me stumbling backward, and I heard a delighted gasp from behind me. “I told you what pageants were like,” someone said, but I was already regaining my footing and taking off after Bee.

  I stumbled over cables in the dim light, barely able to make out the blue sequins on her dress flashing as she dodged behind one of the curtains.

  One of the stage managers gave a startled cry as she pushed past him, and he may have used a four-letter word when I did the same.

  Bee was right against the back wall of the theater now, a giant fake oak tree blocking her path.

  She turned to face me, wearing an expression I’d never seen before. One that, to be honest, I never would have thought Bee was even capable of. She was practically snarling.

  “I trusted you.” It was the only thing I could think to say, the only words that seemed to be pounding inside my head, and they hurt coming out of my mouth. They hurt maybe more than anything else I’d ever said. This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t have been wrong. Not about Bee.

  “Trust me now, Harper,” she choked out in reply. “This is the only way.”

  I reached out and yanked a branch off the fake tree. The crack was probably loud enough to be heard in the audience, but I didn’t care. “By letting the Ephors take David? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re working for Alexander.”

  Bee reached out and did the same with another branch, and we stood there facing each other, fake branches clutched in our hands, both of us breathing hard.

  “I’m not working for them,” Bee said, her fingers tight around that branch. “It isn’t about Alexander or any of that, Harper, I swear, but you can’t go to him. I can’t let you.”

  “He’s in danger,” I cried, my chest seizing even as I said the words.

  Nodding, Bee gripped her branch harder. “He might be, yeah. But I promised him I’d let him do this.”

  The words landed harder than her blows had. “What?”

  “I promised David,” she said, and I felt like my head was spinning. “He knew you’d never let him leave, knew you’d fight to keep him here. But this—” She clutched the branch harder, and I saw tears start to pool in her eyes. “This is what’s actually best for him.” Her voice had turned pleading now. “Please, Harper, don’t make me do this.”

  Out onstage, I could hear Sara announcing the beginning of the talent portion of the pageant. The stereo system was blasting some kind of terrible smooth jazz, but even that couldn’t drown out the rush of blood in my ears as I faced down Bee. I knew what she meant. We were both protecting David, albeit in different ways. My Paladin instincts weren’t going to quit until the threat—Bee—was eliminated. Bee wouldn’t stop until she’d fulfilled whatever vow it was she’d made to David.

  “Nothing bad is going to happen to him,” Bee said.

  “That’s a lie,” I cried, “because I wouldn’t feel like this if he were going to be fine.”

  Bee shook her head, hard enough that her blond hair began to spill out of her updo. “It’s the only way.”

  With that, she swung the branch at me. I raised my own, blocking her blow. Whoever had made the fake tree had done a darn good job, because even though I could feel the reverberations all the way down my arms, the branch didn’t break.

  Throwing my weight behind it, I pivoted the branch in a wide circle, trying to disarm Bee, but she was prepared for that. She’d planted her feet, and while she grimaced, she kept her hold on the branch, and then, with a sharp stabbing motion, managed to drive me back.

  “The only way for what?” I asked. “For him to run away and get caught by Alexander and the rest of the Ephors, who will kidnap him and turn him into their personal fortune-teller?”

  I gritted my teeth, hands nearly numb with how tightly I was holding on to my weapon, and let myself be led backward. That had been one of Saylor’s lessons: Let them think they have the upper hand. Bet on their overconfidence giving you a window of opportunity.

  “No,” she replied. “It’s the only way for any of us to have a normal life again.”

  Bee pushed forward with her branch and I stepped back, my high heel catching on the velvet curtain a little.

  And then suddenly I was blinded by bright lights and I heard a big intake of breath, like a bunch of people had gasped all at once. What the—

  In front of me, Bee hesitated for a second, her head swinging to the left.

  Oh. Crap.

  We were onstage.

  As I looked out into the audience, I saw my parents tilt their heads to the side, faces wrinkled in confusion. Next to them, Aunt Jewel raised one hand to cover her mouth.

  Aunts May and Martha were still eating lemon drops, seemingly unconcerned that their niece had just torn down the curtain and appeared onstage with her best friend, both of us swinging giant fake branches.

  The music was still playing, something from Swan Lake, and I remembered Rebecca in a tutu.

  She was frozen at the corner of the stage now, staring at me and Bee, one arm still raised over her head, her feet in second position.

  Then, with a grunt, Bee swung at me again, the branch connecting with my thigh. The pain helped me focus, and I turned back to her, parrying with a vengeance. My blow caught her on the ribs, and as she staggered back, she cried, “Just let it happen, Harper. I promise, it’s for the best.”

  I gave one quick glance to the audience, my eyes searching for David. But his seat and the ones around it were empty, and my stomach was jumping, my chest still so tight I could hardly breathe.

  With a snarl
, I launched myself at Bee. “That’s what Blythe said, too. That the ritual was for the best, and look what it did to you. Can you honestly”—I sucked in a breath as Bee’s branch grazed my knuckles—“say it was for the best?”

  I wished now I’d picked a looser dress. The tight sheath skirt made it hard to maneuver quickly, and Bee’s dress was a lot more voluminous, giving her a freedom of movement I just did not have.

  We stumbled across the stage, the music from Swan Lake still blasting through the auditorium, our arms a blur of thrusts and swings and blows. Bee’s hair had completely fallen by now, and her long blond curls swung around her face as we fought. Her face was blotchy with tears and sweat, and I knew mine was, too.

  “Let him go!” Bee yelled again, and this time, when her branch hit me square in the chest, I fell to my knees. Even over the music, I could hear a gasp from the audience.

  Pressing one hand against the stage, I tried to catch my breath. My body ached from David being in danger, and I could feel every one of Bee’s hits. I’d only ever fought another Paladin like this—seriously—once, the night I’d killed Dr. DuPont. I realized then that every cell inside me was crying out to kill Bee. That she was the thing standing between me and David. But for once, my mind was overriding my instincts.

  No matter what my duty, no matter that she had lied to me and led us to this, this was Bee, and I couldn’t kill her. Not for David, not for Pine Grove. Not for anything.

  She swung the branch down in an arc toward my head, probably hoping to knock me out.

  I reached up with one hand and caught the wood in my palm. The shock of it jarred all the way down to my shoulder, but I used the branch to leverage myself back into a standing position. Gripping Bee’s branch as hard as I could, I looked into her tear-streaked face.

  “I’m sorry,” I gritted out, and then I swung.

  I pulled back at just the right moment, the branch glancing off her temple instead of crashing into her skull. But it was still enough to make her eyes roll back, and Bee slumped to a sequined heap on the floor.