Never Sit Down in a Hoopskirt and Other Things I Learned in Southern Belle Hell

by Crickett Rumley

  The moment that he was out the door, Mizz Upton’s bob stopped bobbing and she turned into Cruella de Bienville. “Throughout the entire time I have known him, Walter Murray Hill has been quite the optimist. He always thinks our Maids are beautiful. He relentlessly trusts in their ability to rise to the occasion. He believes that each Maid can learn and uphold all the rules of the Magnolia Court. Usually, I take great comfort from his optimism. This time I believe him to be completely and utterly wrong.” She turned what can only be described as a baleful eye around the room, one that turned benevolent only when it landed on Ashley and Mallory. “Due to the unauthorized and ill-advised selection process this year, I believe we are at the most detrimental starting point ever in the history of the Magnolia Court. Preparing you to present yourselves as proper antebellum ladies, with a complete cornucopia of Magnolia Maid and Bienville knowledge in six weeks’ time, is possibly the most insurmountable task I have faced in my entire life.” She launched into a litany of things we had to do, which included such delightful tasks as:

  1. Working with the dressmaker to design our antebellum dress uniform and suffering through various fittings along the way.

  2. Creating a fund-raising plan to raise the gazillion dollars necessary for us to travel far and wide.

  3. Memorizing the Magnolia Maid Manifesto, handbook, and official poem, and being able to recite them upon command.

  4. Procuring our dandies for events occurring later in the year.

  Ugh. Listening to Mizz Upton’s cantankerous voice was not my idea of a good time, so when she went off on a tangent about sisterhood and the importance of the Magnolia Maid poem, I receded into the depths of my own mind. Get a dandy? Really? I know I was acting all nonchalant about it earlier, but it was actually stressing me out. It used to be that the logical choice would have been Luke. But now? I got into an argument in my own head about whether I would ask him to be my dandy if I ever saw him again. Answer, after much internal debate: No. Mainly because I could never use the word dandy with a straight face. Ever. That led to my other internal argument about whether I actually wanted to see Luke Churchville again or not see Luke Churchville. See Luke, not see Luke. See Luke, not see…

  It was a pretty all-encompassing debate, until I realized that Mizz Upton had exited the room, leaving us to our own devices. I whispered to Zara, “What’s going on?”

  “We’re supposed to have a ‘get to know each other chat’ and elect a queen.”

  “A queen?” Huh? “What is this? The Feudal Ages?”

  Caroline whispered to me, “You really should read the handbook, Jane. It’s all in there.”

  Meanwhile, up in her power chair, Ashley whipped a clipboard out of her Lilly Pulitzer bag. “Maids, can I get your attention, please? I’ve taken the liberty of going ahead and developing some recommendations for how we should proceed.” She handed out a packet of information to each of us. “I think our charity should be LeanTeen. It’s a great new organization that promotes healthy lifestyle choices for inner-city youth. Exercising, eating fruits and vegetables, avoiding unnecessary weight gain. And for our fund-raisers, we can do a combo carwash and bake sale.”

  Mallory jumped in. “Oh, I love that idea! My cousin Lucinda and her Maids did one, and they raised tons of money. Tons.”

  Something about this sounded so very wrong to me. “Excuse me, Ashley, carwash and bake sale? How do you keep the baked goods from getting soaked?”

  “Oh my!” Brandi Lyn cried. “I don’t think soggy cupcakes will sell.”

  Ashley leveled us both with deadly stares. “Don’t be ridiculous. Any idiot can aim a hose in the right direction.”

  True. But still. “I don’t know, you guys.”

  Mallory giggled. “You guys? What are you, Jane, a Yankee?”

  “Sorry. I seem to have misplaced my drawl. Let me try that again.” I did a little shimmy, tossed my hair, and jumped back on the horse. “I don’t know, y’all, I think we should do something different.”

  Ashley and Mallory frowned. “Why do something different?” asked Mallory.

  “Mr. Walter said he wanted things to change, soooo, I don’t know. Let’s do something unique, maybe more related to current events.”

  Zara, good Sidwell Friends girl that she is, got an idea immediately. “Oh! What about the oil spill?”

  “Exactly. I mean, here Bienville is, literally a sitting duck for all that oil spewing into the gulf. Isn’t there something we can do for the community? You know, to help out people, the animals, the beaches, something? What about a beach cleanup? Save some birds?”

  Mallory frowned. “I don’t think anyone’s ever done anything like that before.”

  Ashley grimaced. “It sounds dirty. I do not want to be parading around the beach getting bird gunk all over me. Ewww.”

  “It’s oil, Ashley,” I said. “It is dirty. And you could take the spill a little more seriously. Everyone in the region is affected by it. Everyone.”

  “I know my daddy’s going to make a fortune off all those lawsuits he’s filing!”

  I gaped. Wow. “Okay, bully for you and your expanding shoe collection, but could you possibly consider those who are actually suffering? Say the folks who have lost their livelihood? The shrimpers, the people who run hotels by the beach? And oops, hate to tell you, but you may not be eating any oysters down at the Oyster House for a while because all the beds have been closed due to, yikes, being toxic.”

  Ashley shrugged. “All true. I’ll give you that. But seriously, Jane. This idea is trashy. It does not fit in with the Magnolia Maid image. You know, clean, neat, presentable.”

  “Mr. Walter said the times and the Magnolia Maids, they are a-changing.”

  Ashley groaned. “Didn’t you hear? Nobody around here likes change, Jane. Nobody. Caroline, tell her.”

  “Nobody likes change,” Caroline parroted. “But I do think it’s a nice idea.”

  “Thank you, Caroline.” I smirked at Ashley. She sent Caroline a dark, dark look.

  Brandi Lyn waved. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry, but aren’t we supposed to be thinking about a fund-raiser? This sounds great for a charity event, but I don’t understand how we make money off it?”

  “I do.” Everyone’s attention turned to Zara, whose face was actually animated for the first time since we’d met. “I know exactly how to do it. A beach cleanup fund-raiser. We did one at this camp I go to in New England.” Zara explained the concept: your organization chooses a beach to work on, divides it up into increments, say of ten or twenty feet, then solicits contributions for each segment of beach that is cleaned up. Donors pledge anywhere from one cent to a dollar per section. “I’ve done it twice and both times, it’s turned out to be really fun. You’re out in the sun all day, jump in the water whenever you get hot. And we had lots of people, even total strangers, join in and help us. It was cool.”

  I brought my hands together in a prayer position and quasi-bowed to Zara. “Genius, Zara. That’s what I’m talking about. We clean the beach, raise some awareness about the environment, make some money, have some fun. It’s a win-win-win-win situation.”

  To my delight, my Maid sisters/sister Maids started getting excited:

  Mallory, quite surprisingly, kicked it off. “Y’all! This is so creative! No Magnolia Maid Court has ever done anything like this!”

  “I know! Let’s go door-to-door asking people for donations. Set up a booth at the mall!” cried Brandi Lyn.

  “People all over the country are worried about this. We could set up at all the local tourist attractions so that out-of-towners can donate, too!” added Caroline.

  “And don’t forget corporate sponsors,” Zara said. “My parents will definitely chip in.”

  Mallory gasped with delight. “Oh my gosh! This would be so perfect to get the dandies involved with, right, Ashley?”

  Ashley, meanwhile, had been receding into the wings of her power chair, the expression on her face turning increasingly sour as our conversat
ion escalated. “I don’t know if my complexion can take a whole day in the sun like that.”

  “We’ll take breaks in the shade,” I countered.

  That did NOT appease her. “And I have one question.” She leveled a death stare at Zara, like a viper ready to strike. “Why don’t you tell us all the truth? How much did your daddy pay to get you on the Court?”

  Talk about a conversation killer. It was so awful. We all just sat there in stunned silence. No one knew where to look. My eyes searched out poor Zara, who was managing to look incredibly serene, but it was obvious that her comfort level had sunk from tolerable to nonexistent.

  I fixed Ashley with a death stare of my own. “You know what, Ashley? Uncool. You’re out of line.”

  “It’s a legitimate question.”

  “It’s totally rude and uncalled for and you know it.” I turned to the circle of girls. “I move that we change the subject before things get any more inappropriate. What about this queen business? Anyone have any thoughts?”

  Ashley nudged Mallory’s leg with her foot.

  “Ow! What? Oh! I nominate Ashley for queen.”

  Ashley acted ridiculously demure, especially given how rude she’d just been. “Oh, Mallory. Wow. I’m so honored.”

  “I can’t think of anyone better to be a queen. Don’t you agree, Caroline?” Mallory nudged Caroline with her foot.

  Caroline glanced up from the lemon square she had snagged in all the awkward silence and nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’re a great student council president. You’d be wonderful on this, I’m sure.”

  My jaw hit the ground. Really? Caroline was supporting Ashley for queen? Had she not heard Ashley totally insult her on pageant night?

  “Great. We have one candidate,” I said. “And since this is a democracy, you need an opponent. I nominate Brandi Lyn.”

  Brandi Lyn paled. “Really? Me? Oh my goodness!”

  “Don’t you go fainting again, Brandi Lyn. It’s obvious. You’re thrilled about being a Magnolia Maid, and you’re nice to everyone. You should totally do it.”

  Zara raised her hand. “I second it.”

  And with that, swear to God, steam erupted from Ashley’s ears as she realized she had lost every iota of control she ever thought she would have over her Magnolia Court. “Excuse me! Her boyfriend works at EZ Lube!”

  “Yes, he makes real good money there,” chimed in Brandi Lyn, all enthusiastic.

  “I don’t give a damn if he makes a million dollars a minute. He’s a redneck. And so are you. And I will not let you be head of my Court!”

  With that Ashley finally jumped up and down on my last nerve. “See! This is exactly why you should not be queen. It is NOT your Court! It’s ours! You’re pissed that your little BFFs didn’t make it, and now you’re out to make all of us miserable! We’d have to be stupid to put our fate in your hands.”

  “You’d be stupid not to!” Furious, Ashley shot up and got in my face. “My father is willing to donate ten thousand dollars if I get elected queen!”

  I stood my ground. “And how is that any different from you accusing Zara of having her daddy buy her way on to the Court? Could you be more of a hypocrite?”

  We were ready to take it outside—if you can imagine a world where Southern belles are willing to take it outside—when suddenly a sharp clap smacked us back to reality.

  Mizz Upton, a look of appalled anger on her face, stood in the doorway.

  “What?” I quipped. “Is it lunchtime?”

  Mizz Upton’s voice shook with fury, but she spoke so calmly and quietly, I almost had to lean forward to hear her. “A Magnolia Maid never raises her voice.”

  Ashley smoothed her hair, put that prissy look back on her face, and took a seat. “I am so sorry, Mizz Upton. It’s just that Jane, well, her attitude is so aggressive and unfriendly. It’s got me a little concerned that she may not be a team player.”

  “I’m sure it does.” Mizz Upton glared at me. “Jane, could you please conduct yourself in a manner becoming a Magnolia Maid?”

  I snorted. “That’s a question you should ask Ashley. She’s the one trying to play dictator!”

  “I am sure Ashley’s just trying to guide the discussion.”

  “If by guide you mean completely and totally dominate.”

  Before Mizz Upton could respond, however, there was a knock at the front door. She moved toward the foyer. “Maids, we simply do not have time for this fracas. We will address it later. Dinah Mae Marshall is here.”

  “Oh my!” Now Mallory looked like she was going to faint. “Somebody pinch me! It’s time for the dresses!”

  Chapter Six

  From the first moment that Dinah Mae Marshall, official seamstress to the Magnolia Court, opened her mouth, I knew I was going to love her. “Lord God, child,” she said to Mallory. “Get your arms off me. I’m no hug baby for you to love on.” All four feet ten inches and eighty pounds of Dinah Mae Marshall struggled to push a fawning Mallory away from her. She looked to be about two hundred and thirty-seven years old, which meant she had been making antebellum dresses since the days of Scarlett O’Hara. Just kidding.

  But Miss Dinah Mae’s reputation so long preceded her that Mallory swooned at the mere mention of her name. She had run right over and threw her arms around Dinah Mae and cried, “Oh, Miss Dinah Mae, I’ve been waiting to meet you my whole life! I have! Ever since the very first time Ashley and I played Magnolia Maid dress-up when we were five. Oh my gosh, it is such a pleasure to meet you. My cousin Lucinda, she was a Maid a few years ago, she simply adores you.” She squeezed Miss Dinah Mae twice more before Mizz Upton was able to separate them.

  We Maids lined up in the dining room so that Miss Dinah Mae could inspect us. And inspect she did, like a drill sergeant studying her new recruits. Silent. Stern. Harumphing to herself. Finally, she turned to Mizz Upton and said, “Well, Miss Martha Ellen, this has got to be the sorriest bunch a belles I ever did see. Where’d you get these gals from?”

  News flash! Mizz Upton seemed almost intimidated by this tiny force of a woman. I wouldn’t have thought it possible if I hadn’t seen it myself. “I-I’m so sorry, Miss Dinah Mae,” Mizz Upton stammered. “It wasn’t my choice this year. The Jaycees, they took it out of my hands.”

  “You think you gonna get them all whipped up into shape in time for the Boysenthorp?”

  “I guess we don’t have a choice, now do we, Miss Dinah?”

  “We sure don’t.” Miss Dinah stopped at Brandi Lyn, who greeted her with her friendliest smile, until Dinah Mae sniffed and said, “Hmmph! Girl, you got some bosoms we got to hide or those boys, good God a-mighty.”

  Brandi Lyn turned beet red. “I’m sorry, Miss Dinah. I’ve got a minimizer I can wear.”

  “What you sorry for? The good Lord gave you that, didn’t he? Miss Dinah’ll take care of it.” She moved on to Zara and paused. Straightened up. “Child, there are two days I thought I’d never see come in my lifetime. This is one of ’em.”

  Mizz Upton nodded enthusiastically. “We’re diversifying this year, Miss Dinah. Getting into the twenty-first century!”

  Miss Dinah paid her no mind. She was too busy studying Zara. It was a funny sight, like a toddler standing next to a basketball player. Miss Dinah shook her head. “Girl, you ate those Wheaties all up, didn’t you? You gonna wear Miss Dinah out, making a skirt long enough to cover those legs.” She moved on, but not before whispering proudly to Zara, “You represent good, now, you hear me?”

  Zara nodded. Vigorously. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She looked each one of us up and down and immediately identified which body part was going to make her “work.” Mallory’s neck was long, “just like her mother’s,” so Miss Dinah would have to be careful she didn’t come out looking like a giraffe. Caroline “had meat on her” (a pronouncement that made Mizz Upton cringe in horror), but that was okay, Miss Dinah had a special nip pleat that would help out with that. Ashley—this is hilarious—had legs shorter than her torso
, which was going to mess up the bodice/skirt ratio.

  Ashley’s face bloomed scarlet. “My legs aren’t short! What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you argue with Miss Dinah. I made over three hundred of these dresses before you was born. I know from these dresses.”

  “But…” Miss Dinah Mae had already moved on to me, and I was having a hard time dealing with the fact that she was staring me in the eyes like she could see into my soul.

  “Something’s going on with you, child. You the queen?”

  “No, ma’am. We don’t have one.”

  Miss Dinah glanced over at Mizz Upton. “That true?”

  Mizz Upton, looking like she was going to poop a bag of peanuts, nodded. “The girls haven’t elected a queen yet, Miss Dinah.”

  I laughed.

  Miss Dinah glared at me. “You think that’s funny? Miss Dinah don’t think that’s funny.” She kept staring, and y’all, I don’t know if you’ve ever had a woman six inches shorter than you stare you down until you felt like you were five inches tall, but seriously, that is exactly what she did. I shrank.

  “You the spitting image of your mama.”

  There it was, the first mention of Cecilia all day. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the onslaught of sadness. Odd. It didn’t come. I just nodded and gave a little smile. “Yes, ma’am. That’s what people say.”

  “She was a sweet girl. Didn’t have no attitude like you.”

  Awww, man! How did she know I had attitude? I’d been trying to be sweet all day! Sort of. “I suspect not, ma’am.”

  “Show me your arms.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Lift up those sleeves and show me them arms.” I did and she grabbed both arms, turning each one over and inspecting them. “Turn around and lift up your hair.”

  I did so. “What’s going on?”

  “Hush your mouth.” I felt her yank the neck of my T-shirt down so that she could see my back. She was searching here and searching there and suddenly it dawned on me what she was looking for. Suddenly, she emitted a sound of annoyance and slapped me on the shoulder. “Lord, girl, the stupidness in the world today! What in the good name o’ the Spirit am I supposed to do with that?”