The lights flashed on and off. “Only contestants backstage now. All family and coaches, please be seated.”
“Don’t worry.” McKenzie flashed me a smile. “I’m going to wow them!”
“Them?” I called as she hurried away. “You mean your potential employer, right?”
She didn’t answer.
The pageant opened with a completely dark stage. The music, slow and dramatic, crescendoed into a flash of pyrotechnics raining over the smiling contestants. The pageant theme song—“Poise, Power, and Positivity!”—cued the girls into their dance, proving how poised, powerful, and positive they were. McKenzie added an extra spin during the second twirl. What was this crazy girl like in her real life?
After three minutes, the music quieted and the MC, a local radio DJ named Danny Dakota, strode over to his podium. I hoped he was getting paid for this. Payment would make his tight tux and pink cummerbund less tragic. “Welcome to Miss Teen Dream Idaho! Introducing this year’s contestants.”
One by one, the girls sashayed up to the mike. “Hi! I’m Jennifer Frederick from Sun Valley! I love tennis and hope to go to veterinary school someday! Dream big!”
“Hey! I’m Celeste Juniper from Fredonia County. I love puppies and I’m starring in my school play.”
I could have pummeled her. Starring? She was a background fairy. Who’s trying to be who now?
The introductions hit a steady rhythm, girl after girl, until McKenzie got up.
I longed to use magic then. Or jump into her skin and do this part for her. Anything to give this nameless girl a chance to work at the most awesome job in the world. But I had a different job, as hard as it was. And my job was to watch.
Watch her walk up right to that stand, smile, and say. “Hello! I’m McKenzie Lighthouse from Sampson County. I work with children because I believe they are our future. Also, I love glitter!”
This was not the line she’d said during rehearsal. During rehearsal, she’d said the line McKenzie would have wanted. “I hate fake eyelashes and like free-range, organic chicken!” This children-are-the-future garbage was improvised. I glanced at the judges, seated at the long side table. They were all smiling.
Could I have stopped her? No. There was nothing I could have done. It was her trial—her choices. I had to watch her make them. Yuck. This was the least impactful job I’d ever had. There had to be a way to do something.
The other girls finished their introductions, and Danny Dakota swept across the stage, explaining the criterion for the finalists. He paused dramatically before announcing, “And let’s see which eight of these forty-four young ladies we’ll be spending time with tonight!”
“First up…Celeste Juniper from Fredonia County!”
My mom let out a loud holler. So even though Celeste wasn’t my favorite person, I was glad to see that Mom’s hard work had paid off. I followed up with a whoop of my own.
The next six names were called—including one of the girls from the bathroom, Willow. And then Danny paused. “One name remains.”
The air in the room was sucked out as every girl onstage held her breath.
“The last finalist is…McKenzie Lighthouse, Miss Sampson County!”
Not good. So not good. Real McKenzie wouldn’t be excited about this! What if her mom expected this to happen again? I had to get backstage and make sure McKenzie didn’t win, even if it required something drastic, like evening gown mutilation. Losing this pageant would be an ultimate win for both McKenzies—and for me. If the first sub I watched was a reject, what would that mean for my Façade future? After my trip to the Court of Royal Appeals, I wanted to keep my record free of mistakes and filled with success.
“Mom. I have to go. Bathroom.”
I scurried down the aisle before my mom could object. The backstage area was almost flooded with the tears of the non-finalists. I dodged the river of mascara streaks, hoping to sneak into the finalists’ changing room, but the stage door was locked, with the sign finalists only. do not sabotage. above it.
It’s like they’d read my mind. Still, I faced my dilemma—should I sit back and let Fake McKenzie do her thing, or do I intercede? Was McKenzie’s becoming a finalist enough of an emergency to contact Meredith?
It couldn’t hurt to text her. Well, this is Meredith we’re talking about so it could hurt a lot, but it was worth the risk. It wasn’t like summoning Genevieve. Meredith could ignore me if she wanted to—she was a pro at that.
Desi: Hey Mer, I have an impact wannabe over here.
My phone rang almost instantly.
“Never call me Mer again.”
“It sure got you on the phone quick.”
“I’m on the other line anyway.”
I bet she was on the line with her prince. I pictured him tapping his fingers as he waited on hold. I wondered what his fingers looked like. I wondered what he looked like. Meredith’s so petite, it’d be cute if he was short too. They could get a mini-pony together and live in a tiny cottage with animal-shaped shrubs out front.…
“Hey. Desi,” Meredith snapped into the receiver. “Today.”
“Sorry. Fake McKenzie’s a finalist—she’s in it to win it. And Real McKenzie wouldn’t want that.”
“Is she physically hurting anyone or blabbing about the agency?”
“They’re in a locked room right now, but I doubt it.”
“Make sure she doesn’t place in the top three. Those girls have to ride on floats and attend events, and our client would not be happy. Finalist isn’t the end of the world. Real McKenzie can’t complain when she’s getting a free trip out of the switch.”
“Got it.”
“And Desi?”
“Yeah.”
“We need to go over what the word emergency means.”
I found an empty backstage wing, where I had a clear view of the rest of the program. No one besides contestants were supposed to be back there at this point—even moms and coaches were in the audience—but I needed to be close to McKenzie in case she got too pageant peppy again.
Celeste did a monologue from Our Town and McKenzie sang “Over the Rainbow” for the talent routine. The sub had lucked out that McKenzie’s real talent wasn’t instrumental. I knew very well how disastrous that could be (although, actually, disastrous would have been a big help to me at that point). Then the girls did a quick costume change for the final segment—answering interview questions in evening gown.
I’ll give her this—Celeste looked amazing in her peach dress with cap sleeves and a flowy skirt. McKenzie looked pageanty. Her smile was frightening.
The judges’ table reminded me of the Court of Royal Appeals, except with more hair spray. A fishbowl filled with interview questions was perched on a column next to the finalists. Danny Dakota swaggered over to the podium, flashing his cheesy smile.
“The first contestant is Miss Georgia Marie Jones from Teton County. Georgia Marie, please pick your question.”
Georgia Marie slipped her hand into the fishbowl and handed the sheet of paper to Danny.
“Georgia Marie, If you could take anything with you to a deserted island, what would you take and why?”
Georgia made eye contact with each judge, one by one. “If I were stranded on a deserted island, I would take my country. America is the greatest country on earth, and I believe in life and liberty!”
Danny Dakota swallowed what I could only guess was a snarky remark to such a stupid answer. My country. Enjoy eighth place, Miss Georgia Marie.
“Thank youuuuu, Georgia Marie. And God bless America.” Danny Dakota shuffled his cards. “Next, Celeste Juniper from Fredonia County.”
I knew my mom was proud of Celeste’s straight posture as she picked her question and smiled at the judges.
Danny read: “Celeste, do you think our country has a problem with gender bias?”
“Does our country have a problem with gender bias?”
Celeste spoke the words slowly, one of Mom’s time-buying tricks. “Wel
l, that’s a question I could go on forever about.…”
And that’s when I saw it. The terror flicker across her face. She had nothing to say. Celeste was about to totally bomb, and I was a firsthand witness.
Three seconds ticked by. Celeste’s leg twitched under her skirt.
For how rude Celeste was to me, you’d think I would love her train wreck, but the moment was painful. And not delightfully painful, either, like when you get tickled or eat too much ice cream. This was gouge-your-eyes-out bad. Something welled inside of me, oozing into my heart and my mind and my tear ducts. I would do anything in the world to make the moment end for Celeste.
A smart answer, I thought, would start out: Yes, our country does have a gender bias, and this pageant is a good example that some things are still viewed as female roles. But at the same time, this pageant includes girls who tomorrow…
My skin and stomach and head and fingers all buzzed. This was the right answer. I knew it. I just needed Celeste to know it.
She was the closest contestant to the curtain. I inched farther out of the wing, as much as I dared, and hissed her name.
She kept her face forward but flicked a quick glance at me. I gave her a thumbs-up sign, and mouthed the word “yes” to get her going. She dipped her chin in the slightest nod and started to speak. When she did, I shook with the intensity of my emotion. Of my…magic?
“Yes, our country does have a gender bias, and this pageant is a good example that some things are still viewed as female roles. But at the same time, this pageant includes girls who tomorrow will be our doctors and political leaders. That didn’t used to be an option for many women, so in a lot of ways, I feel we’ve come very far and can celebrate our femininity without forgetting our potential. Thank you.”
Celeste’s shoulders slumped a fraction as she returned to her stool.
Holy impact miracle! Did that just happen? She gave the exact answer that I was thinking. How did that work? It had to be magic this time, right? Celeste hardly reads books, let alone minds.
I was home, but I was also working for Façade. But I hadn’t felt that tingling for my sub; only Celeste. And I wasn’t wearing Royal Rouge. So…what were the rules here? Was this the “tapping into magical potential” Genevieve had talked to me about? I glanced around at the other finalists to see if they could feel any of the magic that was so obviously thick in the air, but they were busy smiling like coifed crazies. I swung my arms back and forth. I’d impacted in the biggest way yet. Too bad I’d wasted it on Celeste.
From her perch on the stage, Celeste shot me a relieved look and mouthed a thank-you.
So maybe not wasted.
“Next up, McKenzie Lighthouse from Sampson County.”
This is great. All I had to do was repeat whatever I did for Celeste, except with a bad answer, and McKenzie would lose. All’s well that ends well.
“What are you doing?” A woman dressed in backstage-worker black with one of those headset microphone things pulled me away from the wing. “Are you a contestant?”
“No.”
“Then what are you doing back here?”
Danny Dakota read the question. “McKenzie, if you could be anyone else for a day, who would you be and why?”
Oh, sweet irony. But this question was perfect! I started to think of all the possibilities. Um…Britney Spears? No, too friendly. Attila the Hun? Too hairy.
“I would be—”
The woman gave me a not-so-gentle push toward the exit door. “I’m calling security if you don’t leave now.”
I didn’t hear the rest of McKenzie’s answer, and I couldn’t add anything to it now anyway. I felt absolutely no buzzing. No way could I communicate anything to her, especially when I wasn’t sure how I was able to communicate to Celeste in the first place.
Watcher fail! Of all the times I should have been there for McKenzie, this was it. A pageant win for Real McKenzie would be a total loss for Fake McKenzie. She wouldn’t get to be a sub.
I snuck back into the theater, hoping against all hope that McKenzie’s interview did not go well.
Chapter
13
Danny Dakota puffed out his chest. “Ladies and gentlemen, before you stand eight beautiful, talented, and intelligent young women. These poised princesses are the future!”
The crowd applauded.
“Now let’s find out who our finalists are. Will the following five contestants please step forward.
“Willow Callaway, Celeste Juniper, McKenzie Lighthouse, Claire Thuet, and Kimi Clow.”
The fourth runner-up, Claire, was announced first. Cripes. Whoever Fake McKenzie was, she should go into the pageant world. Her future in the subbing world looked dim.
“The third runner-up, and winner of a five hundred dollar scholarship, is…McKenzie Lighthouse.”
Fake McKenzie’s eyes watered as she took her roses. Her mother, or her fake mother, glanced around the stage, probably wondering when the pigs were going to start flying.
Yes! She didn’t place in the top three! Real McKenzie would have no duties to attend to. In fact, she’d come home with decent scholarship money and a happy mother. Sure, things would be changed and Fake McKenzie had gone too far, what with it being a trial gig, but MP is a very special commodity. Not only had Genevieve brought up MP’s rarity during lunch, but I remembered hearing about it during Level One training: the agency sometimes went months without picking up anything on their MP radar. So they couldn’t be too choosy, right? Fake McKenzie could straighten out during training. Façade had given me a second chance, after all.
“The second runner-up is…Celeste Juniper.”
Celeste accepted her flowers, her smile staying in the exact position the whole time, just as my mother had taught her. Admittedly, I was relieved. If Celeste had won the whole thing, we would have never heard the end of it.
“And your next Teen Dream Idaho is…Willow Callaway!”
Willow wiped at nonexistent tears and took her victory walk. After the music ended, the audience trickled onto the stage. Celeste spotted me and waved before turning to smile at someone else. I didn’t have time to think about what it meant—I had to find McKenzie.
Someone grabbed my arm when I stepped backstage. “Hurry. These girls scare me.”
“Too positive and poised for you, Meredith?”
Meredith braced herself against a beam. “Don’t start.”
“So is it over already? I didn’t get a text or phone call.”
“You probably didn’t hear it with all these girls crying. Ugh, all this…emotion makes me ill.”
“Let me say good-bye to our girl.”
“Come outside for a moment. We need to talk.”
The October air blasted my bare arms as soon as I cracked the back door. We sat down on the stairs, the one lightbulb illuminating the angles in Meredith’s expressionless face. “McKenzie is gone.”
“You mean Fake McKenzie?”
“Yes. The sub.”
“Oh.” The icy wind licked my skin. Meredith didn’t so much as shudder in her chic sleeveless turtleneck.
“Is she going to the agency now?”
“She’ll have a quick stop at the agency, yes.”
I sighed. “You don’t know how relieved that makes me. Watching is so hard, like you can’t do anything. It’s the opposite of subbing.”
“Well, the opposite of your subbing style, Miss Impact,” Meredith said.
“I’m glad she did enough to make it through. Are you going to do her Level One training, or is someone else on that?”
“Desi. She’s going to the agency to get sub sanitized.”
A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the weather. What I knew about sub sanitization wasn’t pretty—all memory of Façade was wiped away. If I hadn’t been cleared of charges by the Court of Royal Appeals, I would have faced the same fate. I couldn’t imagine knowing about Façade, about all of this, and then going back to regular life, unaware that this world
even existed. “Why would they…why would they do that?”
“Because she didn’t pass. We don’t want her bringing home memories as a souvenir.” Meredith snapped open her clutch and popped a Tic Tac in her mouth. “You want one?”
I pushed away her outstretched hand. “Wait, so she’s just done? That’s it?”
“Yes. It’s a trial.” She closed her purse. “Some pass. Most don’t.”
“I can’t believe this.” I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. “I feel like a failure.”
“Hey, you did your job fine. You watched. You can’t make someone act a certain way. If you could, you and I wouldn’t have half the problems we do, would we?”
“You seriously aren’t hiring her? She was just excited; that would wear off soon. She had a caring heart. And throwing a girl into a beauty pageant? That’s ridiculous.”
“A lot of things you subs are asked to do are ridiculous. That’s the point of a trial. We put you into the situation to see if you are able to solve problems and think on your feet. You handled your trial fine. I passed mine. It happens, not very often, but that’s how we know we have the brightest and best.”
“So that’s it. She’s gone.”
“Adios. And let’s not dwell too long on this. I have enough going on back at Façade. Lilith is on a rampage, brownnosing anyone and everyone who might get her promoted. It’s all I can do to keep my hat in the ring. And they’re planning games for Genevieve’s birthday. Games. If Specter wins the trophy for the three-legged race this year, those meatheads will throw it in our face—”
“Stop it!” I threw my hands in the air. “You act like you don’t even care about Fake McKenzie.”
“Ah, I forget how sensitive you are. Do you know how many girls I’ve seen fail their trial? Dozens. And good riddance to them—if we took them into the agency, they would be a risk. She won’t even remember the pageant happened. Especially once her magic potential is gone.”
“What do you mean ‘her magic potential is gone’? Where does it go?”
Meredith stood and brushed off her gray slacks. “You’re being silly about this. It’s not your problem. You should get back, find your mom, and I’ll see you as soon as your training is—”
The Royal Treatment Page 10
