Claire

by Lisi Harrison

  So what if she never got to fulfill her fantasy of becoming Miss Kiss? Judgeship was far better. She was wearing a white cotton sundress and Keds, her hair was in a high pony, and she had nothing on her face but SPF 30 and peach lip gloss. Best of all, she was sitting beside a turbo-industrial fan with the cool, relaxing knowledge that at the end of the day she’d be five hundred dollars richer.

  “Five minutes,” Lorna Crowley Brown announced from a podium on the far left of the stage. The quartet began one last tea-party favorite while the crowd roared as if gearing up for a jousting match.

  “Please take your seats so we can begin.” Lorna beamed with excitement. Today, the bottom of her black bob had been curled away from her jaw like the letter J; it bounced around her chin as she hurried to gush-greet Brenda and Billy, the local news’s anchor team.

  “Does anyone have a tissue?” Mayor Reggie leaned across the table and lifted his sunglasses. His dark eyes were flooded.

  “Allergies?” Vonda asked, rummaging through her Miss Kiss gift tote.

  Mayor Reggie chuckled and looked slightly embarrassed. “Emotions, I’m afraid. This is the last year I’ll be judging.”

  “Why?” Claire blurted, shocked. He had been a fixture of the pageant for as long as she could remember. He was their Simon. Only nice. And bald. And American.

  “Next summer my best friend’s niece will be old enough to enter,” he said with pride. “I’m just not sure I could be impartial. And that wouldn’t be fair to the other hopefuls. So…” He sighed and accepted a crumpled mint green tissue from Vonda with a gracious smile.

  Claire gulped, her mouth tasting like quarters. If the mayor had any idea how she’d spent the last week, he’d run her out of town:

  Wednesday she’d gone to Sephora with SAS and helped them pick out makeup by hinting-suggesting they buy tropical sea shades only, since that was the color palette the judges were told to favor.

  Thursday she’d met SAS at Publix to help make their walks EW. And yesterday, she’d spent five hours coaching their interpretative issues dances in the storage room of Sari’s father’s restaurant.

  To be fair, Claire had offered Massie the same (illegal) services. But, like a true alpha, Massie had refused.

  “Do you aw-nestly think I need help beating these people?” she’d asked with the utmost sincerity. “I hate to brag, but this is kind of like putting Gisele on America’s Next Top Model and asking if she needs any pointers.”

  Massie was right, of course, but Claire knew that so long as she insisted on wearing earth-tone makeup and black cocktail dresses, it was anyone’s pageant.

  “Eh-chem.” Lorna cleared her throat into the microphone the way someone does when they want the crowd to stop talking.

  Claire bit her pinky nail as she waited for the cheering to settle to chatter and the chatter to subdue to an occasional cough. She didn’t know what she was more nervous about—her friends or her friendships.

  Finally, the crowd went silent. Lorna lifted the mic to her pink lips and smiled widely at the audience. A light breeze danced across the stage, but Lorna’s J’s stayed stiff.

  “For seventy-five years, the Miss Kiss pageant has given young girls an opportunity to harness their potential and engage in friendly, supportive competition. So friendly, in fact, that it has fostered many lifelong friendships and . . .” Lorna paused while the audience snicker-mumbled about how off the mark she was. “A-nnnnd I am honored to present this year’s crop. A group so polished, talented, and professional that MTV decided not to put them on a reality show, because there was no drama.” She lifted her palm as if swearing in a court of law. “As many of you know, the pageant is broken up into three rounds. First, our twenty lovely competitors will take the stage for the Speed Question-and-Answer round. After that, only five Kisses will be left standing, and—”

  “GO KYLEE!” a man shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

  A group in the back began cheering. “Beth! Beth! Beth!”

  “PEYTON RULES!” yelled a woman with an unfortunate perm.

  “SUUU-ZEEEEEE!” hollered a gaggle of young girls in the front row.

  High-pitched screams followed, and soon the entire audience was lifting their homemade signs and waving foam Number One fingers, chanting the names of their favorite Kiss contestants. The press turned their cameras on the raucous crowd and began clicking.

  “And . . . and . . . and THOSE FIVE . . .” Lorna tried, blinking rapidly.

  “Miss Kiss ROCKS!”

  “QUIEEEEEETTTT!” Lorna’s cheeks shook ferociously as she bellowed into the microphone.

  The crowd instantly quieted and foam fingers fell back into laps.

  Lorna smirk-thanked them and smoothed down her skirt, as if she hadn’t just yelled like a kindergarten teacher. “And those five will be put through our “Interpretive Dance” round. The lucky three who survive will be judged on beauty and their down-home Kissimmee style! And at the end of it all, we’ll have our new MISSSS KISSSSSSSS!”

  Everyone cheered again, and this time Lorna rolled with it, smiling like the applause was for her. “So without further ado, please meet our twenty young hopefuls!” She stepped off the stage, clapping as the red curtain lifted.

  The string quartet busted out an instrumental version of Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely,” and a line of girls wearing matching red gowns and Miss Kiss sashes appeared. Most of them were sweating already, but they still managed to project pure joy, as though they preferred it that way.

  The song changed and the girls broke into a slightly off-key version of “What I Did for Love” from the hit Broadway musical A Chorus Line.

  SAS were dead center. Sarah’s wild blond hair had been tamed into a glamorous mini pony, showing off her high cheekbones and perfect nose. Sari had penciled in an upper lip—and from this distance it looked real. It was hard to spot Amandy at first, because she had cut long bangs that covered half her eyelids. At first Claire was shocked because there had been no mention of such a drastic move. But they brought attention to her deep blue eyes, making her even more EW than Claire could have imagined. She winked her approval and Amandy winked back her thanks. SAS had done well, and Claire felt proud to call them her FBFFs.

  But it was Massie who really shocked Claire. She was standing at the very end of the line, looking more than pleased to be wearing the same red poly-blend dress as the other contestants. She hadn’t added a single look-at-me adornment to her outfit, allowing her deep tan to do most of the heavy lifting. Her slightly wavy hair looked very natural, her makeup—several coats of Very Black mascara, a touch of gold eye shimmer and gloss—minimal. Next to a line of mostly blondes with sunburned shoulders and stiff updos, she looked relaxed, confident, and strangely passionate about show tunes.

  We did what we had toooo doooooooooooo.

  Won’t forget! Can’t regret! What I did for love.

  Claire took a long sip of complimentary lemonade while her friends worked their toothy pageant smiles in spite of the blazing heat. The cold, tart drink splashed against the back of her dry throat and reminded her once again how relieved she was to be behind the judges’ table, not posed in front of it. Public evaluations, competing with friends, and faking confidence were part of life in Westchester. So why not enjoy this power position while she could? She smiled happily as the opening song ended and Lorna handed the microphone over to the mayor.

  “Thank you, Lorna!” As Hammond kicked off the Speed Question-and-Answer round, every contestant looked at him with an expectant grin.

  Except for four girls, who refused to take their eyes off Claire. And suddenly even the turbo fan and lemonade couldn’t keep her from feeling the heat of the competition.

  TOHO SQUARE

  HISTORIC DOWNTOWN KISSIMMEE

  Saturday, August 15 12:03 P.M.

  Mayor Reggie covered his burning scalp with the festive MISS KISS tank top from his gift bag. “Ahhhhhh,” he smile-sighed into the microphone. “That’s better.”r />
  The girls onstage giggled like they were watching a Will Ferrell movie. Claire figured that either the sight of the stately mayor with pink-ribbed cotton draped over his head looked ten times funnier from the stage, or the contestants were beyond nervous about the first round.

  “Let me start by saying how lovely you ladies look this afternoon,” Mayor Reggie began. The audience politely clapped their approval while the contestants squirm-beamed. “Now, the first round is what we like to call the Quick Kiss. The judges will take turns asking you surprise questions. You will do your best to respond quickly and intelligently. As Lorna said, the ten best will move on to our next round.” He pulled the top index card off the pink stack in the center of the table and glanced at the first question. “Ready?”

  The girls smiled and speed-nodded.

  “The first question is for Gracie,” the mayor said as he read the name at the top of the card.

  The audience applauded as the perky redhead stepped forward.

  “Gracie,” he said with authority, “what do you expect to gain from this pageant?”

  The girl grinned as if she had waited her entire life for this particular question.

  “Life experience, friendships that will last an eternity and beyond, and the honor of representing our hometown!” She punched her fist in the air. The audience returned her enthusiasm with roof-raising applause.

  Vonda took the next card in the stack. “Beth?”

  A squat girl with a muscular gymnast’s body, short black hair, and no makeup stepped forward. She was as far from stereotypical pageant type as Ugly Betty. In fact, rumor was she’d made the cut because there weren’t enough dark-haired contestants this year and the association wanted some diversity.

  Vonda cleared her throat. “Beth, what is the last cultural thing you did?”

  “Easy. Ate at a taco stand with my cousin.” A few people in the audience snickered. But Beth didn’t mind. She stepped back into formation like a proud soldier.

  Vonda passed the microphone. Claire, avoiding the desperate eyes of her friends, lifted a pink card off the stack.

  OMG!

  “May-sie,” she said, purposely mispronouncing Massie’s name to avoid any suspicion that the two were friends.

  Massie stepped forward, chin high, shoulders back, jaw relaxed.

  Had she really never done this before?

  “Um, okay, at, uh, what point does a, um, girl become a woman?” Claire said to the card, too nervous to meet Massie’s eyes. Her pits began to sweat. Was it obvious they knew each other? Would anyone figure out that they were currently sharing a bedroom? What if Massie choked? What if—

  “A girl becomes a woman when she gets her own Visa,” Massie blurted with a proud smile.

  “What did she just say?” Vonda snapped, holding her hand over her heart in shock.

  Claire gasped. A growing murmur swirled around her.

  “A travel visa,” Claire jumped in. “I like that. A girl who values the importance of traveling.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sari wince. Was she gassy? Faint? Peeved that Claire just helped—

  Lorna quickly grabbed the microphone away from Claire and hissed, “Keep all comments to yourself, please.”

  “Sorry,” Claire mouthed. She angled her body slightly closer to the fan. The cool blast of air instantly settled her.

  “Next up is Amandy!” Reggie announced quickly, clearly trying to move things along. “Who do you think is the most popular person in the world?”

  Come on, Amandy. . . . Say something good. . . .

  Onstage, Amandy lowered her head and casually arranged her bangs over her eyes.

  Claire clasped her hands together under the table. Don’t fuss. . . . Just answer the question. . . .

  As if she’d honed in on the telepathic plea, Amandy lifted her head. “God. God is the most popular person in the world.”

  Claire exhaled as the audience applauded. Lorna gave the judges a hurry-this-along wave.

  Nodding at Lorna, Vonda picked up a card. “Caryn, what is the best quality parents can pass on to their children?”

  “Food!” Caryn waved to her tan-times-ten mom, then stepped back.

  “Thank you, Caryn.” Vonda passed the mic to Claire while Caryn’s mom clapped loudly from the third row.

  Claire pursed her lips at the card, pretending she didn’t notice Sari squirming again. “Nina, what’s the biggest problem facing education today?”

  A pair of jiggling D-cups stepped forward. “Homework on the weekends.”

  The audience roared approval while Nina, and her boobs, bounced back into line.

  Reggie cleared his throat and mopped his beading forehead with the pink shirt. “Wendi, what do you want to do with your life?”

  “Fight the war on terror. And win!” A bucktooth smile later, she took her place back in the Miss Kiss lineup.

  “Sarah,” Vonda said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

  Claire crossed her fingers and took a quick sip of lemonade.

  “What is a recent goal you accomplished?”

  Sarah proudly smoothed a hand over her scalp. “I managed to get my crazy hair into this sleek ponytail.”

  Everyone laughed—even Vonda.

  “Deena,” Claire read, making a point of not noticing Sari fidgeting with the back of her dress. “Um, what is the biggest problem young people face today?”

  Deena searched the crowd with her pea-green eyes, cocked her head to the side, and placed her hands on her narrow hips. “Stepmoms who think taking me to the mall one stupid afternoon will make up for the fact that you stole my father!”

  A woman near the back gasped. Claire swiveled in her judge’s chair just as several people stood to let a weeping redhead and a purple-faced man pass.

  “Sari,” Reggie quickly announced, tugging on a droopy earlobe. “Name the one thing about yourself you’d like to change.”

  Claire crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. She sat on her hands. Then she sent telepathic messages to her chat-happy friend: Keep it short, Sari. . . . Keep it short, Sari. . . . Keep it short, Sari. . . .

  Sari stepped forward, her expression strained, like she was holding in a poo or about to have a baby or—

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” She smacked her back and thrashed around like a trapped tuna. “Get it out!”

  In an instant, Amandy reached down Sari’s dress and smacked something lumpy to the ground. A spastic crab landed with a tap, then began snapping at her feet.

  “Freak!” Sari kicked it, sending it straight for Jilly Lipper’s left calf.

  “Owwwwwww!” Jilly cry-pulled the crab off her bleeding leg and blindly whipped it over her shoulder . . . where it clamped on to Annie Laramie’s cheek and hung like a fallen mountain climber, dangle-hanging for his life.

  “Ehmagawsh!”

  “Whose crab is that?!”

  “I’m allergic to shellfish!”

  “Is it . . . possessed?”

  Suddenly, all of Toho Square erupted in crab-induced chaos. Claire was frozen in her chair in horror. Massie had retreated to a crab-free zone stage left, where she was laughing hysterically and taking pictures with her iPhone. Medics and parents were rushing the stage as the homicidal crab made its way from one screaming, flailing contestant to the next, pinching and plucking anyone who got in its way.

  “Jaws!” Sari’s father tore through the mayhem and pulled the crustacean off Lida Rosen’s thigh. “Jaws, what are you doing here?” He hugged the crab, then his daughter, soothingly petting Jaws’s pincers. The sight of Joe made Jaws relax—and Sari cry.

  “What were you thinking?” Joe set Jaws on his shoulder and fixed Sari with a stern glare.

  She weep-rubbed her clawed back, her upper lip hidden by a wave of salty tears. “Pinching makes me answer quickly,” she hiccupped. “So I thought to myself, ‘How can I get pinched during the pageant,’ because that would have been super helpful. So then I thought about Jaws and decided to b
orrow him from the restaurant, thinking he would help me. . . .” She stopped and sobbed. “Oh, Daddy, I’ll never make it to the Dance round.” She buried herself in his white Hanes for Him T-shirt and bawled. Her father stroked her head with one hand and held Jaws at a safe distance with the other.

  “Everyone please take your seats.” Lorna tapped loudly on the microphone. “The crustacean has been captured. Our Kisses will be back as soon as the blood dries and the scores are tallied.” She then marched over to Sari with a death-glare creased across her tan face. Claire’s stomach dropped at the same time the red velvet curtain did, shielding the contestants from the snickering audience and clicking cameras.

  More than anything, Claire wanted to race backstage and check in with her friends. But she was forced to hang with the judges and discuss why a girl would ever think pinching herself in a Speed Question-and-Answer round was a rational idea.

  Gulp.

  TOHO SQUARE

  HISTORIC DOWNTOWN KISSIMMEE

  Saturday, August 15 1:02 P.M.

  Twenty minutes later, Lorna retook the podium and addressed the wilting crowd. “The scores have been tabulated. The finalists chosen. And here are the five girls who were not injured and who scored a minimum of twenty-five out of thirty points in the first round!”

  “Go Gracie!”

  “Jillyyyyyy!”

  “Kiss me, Caryn!”

  The red velvet curtain lifted. Gracie, Sarah, Wendi, Amandy, Massie (and Bean!) stood in a semicircle, each wearing the costume suited to their world issue of choice.

  They smiled graciously as the audience applauded their staying power.

  Claire’s heart sank when she thought of Sari, who was probably backstage covered in Neosporin and claw marks, mourning her short-lived career on the beauty pageant circuit. But she took comfort in knowing that the eights she’d given SAM had advanced them to the next round. Her fairness plan was working beautifully.