by Judy Clemens
The microphone squealed, and the emcee said, “If you could please find your seats, ladies and gentlemen.”
With a start, I realized Valerie would be coming back to the table. In fact, she already was back, and searching for her phone. Nick still stood next to her, watching me with wide eyes. Crap. I closed out the text screen, hoping she wouldn’t notice the phone had been used. I crept back toward her, the phone in my hand. The phone buzzing in my hand. Another text. I glanced at it, but the message was not from Sunny, so I didn’t bother reading it.
When I got close, Nick touched Valerie’s shoulder. She looked up at him, her concern over her phone vanishing for a moment as she gazed with adoration into his beautiful eyes, and I slid the phone back onto the table and walked away. Seconds after I returned to my seat, Nick was beside me.
“Too close,” he said.“You get what you need?”
“Did it work?” Miranda said, before I could respond.
“I got something. Not sure what it was.”
“Shh!” The lady in front of us turned around and glared.
“Sorry,” Nick said, and gave me a mock afraid face when she wasn’t looking.
Peppy music started, and the Lovely Miss contestants took their pre-arranged places on the risers, all looking young and energetic and unrealistically beautiful in their “casual dress,” which ranged from sundresses to designer jeans and frilly shirts to bermuda shorts and tank tops. Well, they all looked beautiful except Summer, who should have been in a freak show instead of with that group, with her tight and revealing off-the-shoulder translucent yellow shirt. If you could call it a shirt with that little material. I wasn’t sure whether to take cover, in case those silicone basketballs broke loose, or to shield Nick’s eyes with opaque safety goggles. No need for that, actually, since he was looking at his knees.
Taylor didn’t look like the rest of the others, either, most of whom wore more makeup than an international Cover Girl convention. Out of all of them, Taylor looked like a real, naturally attractive teenage girl. Which of course meant she wouldn’t win. Not if the rest of the lineup was any indication of what judges looked for. Unless…
What stake did Gregg have in this pageant? What was his connection, other than Rikki, and now Valerie? It would be Taylor. Or, if not her, Daniella. I had no way of knowing if anyone else had anything to do with him, or Sunburst Studios, or even his cheating cows. Not that the cows were cheating. I don’t think they were smart enough. Anyway, assuming Taylor was the connection here, what if Valerie’s “job” was to make sure she won? Or didn’t win?
I glanced over at Daniella, but there was no indication of whether or not she had a clue of a cheating conspiracy. It was hard to believe she did. She didn’t seem to have much invested in this pageant—other than the investment of raising a daughter—so I couldn’t imagine she would break rules to have Taylor win. She’d said the whole idea was Taylor’s, so she was supporting it for that reason only. But with mothers and daughters came loyalty, and that whole helicopter, hovering, want-my-child-to-be-happy thing. Lucy had somehow seemed to avoid that with Tess, so far, but I figured she was the exception. And look at Daniella. She was gorgeous. Nice. Perfect. Who did that? Nobody was like that for real.
Everything in the room went quiet as the emcee raised her hands. “Welcome again to our pageant. We are thrilled to introduce you to our contestants. Please make them feel welcome.”
One by one the girls said their name, school, age, parents’ names, and something they enjoyed. One girl liked horseback riding, another cooking, and yet another playing golf. I would have expected Summer to say she enjoyed cosmetic surgery, but she only admitted to “beach vacations.” Taylor said simply that she enjoyed spending time with friends. They stayed on their spots as they spoke, microphones picking up their voices from somewhere else, until all were introduced.
“Thank you, girls,” the emcee said. As if this were a cue—which it probably was—the girls filed off the stage and behind into a small room at the back.
The emcee smiled. “While the girls change into their formal wear, I would like to take this opportunity to thank our sponsors. She named several big name companies who donated money, none of which were Sunburst Studios. So that wasn’t the connection.
“And here they are again, after that quick change. Our Lovely Miss Pennsylvania contestants!”
The audience clapped as the girls came back onstage, this time to different spots and poses. I was about blinded by the colors and sparkles. Summer again defied tradition—and safety—with her skintight, silver tube of a dress. Taylor had chosen a much more tasteful dark green number, which fit her well, without being obnoxious.
The emcee called one of the girls forward, and the contestant stepped forward to answer an interview question. The process went down the line, each girl asked something different, and we heard all sorts of answers—most of which were fairly intelligent—until we got to Summer. She joined the emcee and batted those horrid tarantulas pasted on her eyes, and simpered and posed and generally scared the room. At least I was terrified. It was like she’d been taken over by some unknown entity and would soon explode into lots of little pieces, or else just eat us all.
“What is of daily importance to me, making my life worth living?” she said, repeating the emcee’s question. “Oh, so many things, it’s hard to choose. Helping the homeless, feeding the poor, working for world peace, finding homes for abandoned pets, how can I pick one?”
The emcee’s smile was like the barnyard in winter. “Try.”
Summer paused, as if thinking, then smiled, searing us with artificial brightness. “The most important thing in my daily life is my dog, Sally. She is so full of fluffiness and is about the happiest person I know. She likes other people, too, and is so nice to the kids who live next door. I just love her so much, and so I have to say she’s the best. So, so important to me.”
The room was so deadly silent, it was like we’d been hit with a stun bomb. The question came back to me—Who got this girl/creature into this pageant, anyway? Wasn’t there any kind of “normal” quota she had to pass first?
Eventually, the emcee regained consciousness and said, “Well, that’s interesting, Summer. Thank you for sharing.”
Summer blinked some more, causing shudders to reverberate around the fair, and shared another one of those hideous smiles. Somehow, no one fainted.
“You may take your place again, Summer,” the emcee said. “Summer.”
“Oh, sure! Bye!” She flounced back to her spot.
Next in line was a sweet girl from Lansdale, who spoke about the best book she ever read (Pride and Prejudice. Yawn. Everyone knew she had to read it for school) and finally it was Taylor’s turn. She was like a breath of country air, and not the kind after someone spread manure. She was fresh and smart and real.
“Hello, Taylor,” the emcee said. “Would you please describe for us an accomplishment of which you’re very proud?”
“Thank you, I would be pleased to talk about that.” She took a moment, and looked into the audience, ending at her mother and keeping her gaze there. “When I was nine years old, my father died. It was a very hard time for me, but also for my mom. She was suddenly a single mother, and besides the trauma of losing her husband, she was faced with how to survive financially. With the help of family—” she smiled at her Aunt Amy “—my mom went back to school, received her cosmetology degree, and got a job at Serenity Salon. She worked hard and now she is the manager. She has begun all kinds of programs and special events there, and she works hard to make health and beauty a possibility for all people, not just those with a lot of money. I’m very proud to call her my mom, and very proud of all she has accomplished.”
There was an awkward pause before a smattering of applause. Mothers of the other contestants glanced around at each other, like “What the heck was that?” and the other girls on stage seemed confused. It seemed nobody was used to someone talking about someone other than themselv
es. Nick and Miranda clapped hard, and Zach looked like…good grief, like a proud boyfriend. He’d known her two days. Daniella and Amy both had tears running down their cheeks, and Claire, well, she just looked sad. Perfect cousin strikes again.
I checked out the judges’ table. The tall lady and the guy were busy scribbling on their sheets. Valerie sat back in her seat, mouth partly open, eyes wide. After a few seconds her mouth snapped shut, and she smiled. After a glance at her judging partners, she began writing, too.
So, she was glad with Taylor’s performance. Interesting. I guess that meant her “job” might not be so hard, after all, if what she had to do was make sure Taylor won. Unless that selfless answer meant she wouldn’t win. I was so confused. But assuming Taylor had just scored well, that still left the question of “Why?” Why did Gregg want Taylor to win? Did he think it would give him an “in” with Daniella? And how would Mrs. Gregg feel about that? And what, if anything, did that have to do with Rikki’s death? Too many things to think about.
Another girl answered the emcee’s question, and then the interviews were over. Time for individual talent. The girls left the stage again, and after a short break, during which last year’s Lovely Miss PA winner talked about her “amazing” time as the winner, they came back one by one. We were subjected to bad karaoke, a decent flute performance, tap dancing, a recited Joan of Arc monologue, and—most disturbingly—Summer’s baton routine. Batons in themselves aren’t disturbing, of course, but when they’re in constant danger of being snagged on elephant boobs, it’s a bit distracting. Finally, we got to Taylor’s talent, which, as her mother had described before, was a lovely sign language performance, set to a song describing how we need to look outside ourselves and see the greater good. Again, the other mothers seemed a bit confused by the whole “talent with meaning” thing, and Valerie Springfield looked smug, while the guy judge clapped and the tall lady nodded.
Hmm. Maybe good girls do win once in a while.
After all of the contestants had demonstrated their talent, the emcee took her spot up front. “The judges need just a few minutes to confer, ladies and gentlemen, and then we will be thrilled to announce our finalists, and this county’s Lovely Miss Pennsylvania representative!”
The room relaxed into excited buzzy chatter while the three judges put their heads together, sharing scorecards and, I assume, their favorite candidates. Valerie seemed to be making a case for someone, with lots of gesturing and serious pointing at scorecards. It was hard to tell what the other judges were thinking, but they were at least listening. I wished I was a fly on that table, and believe me, being at the fair, no one would think twice about a fly hanging around.
Nick bumped me with his shoulder. “Why are you glaring at the judge’s table?”
“I’m not glaring.”
“Are so,” Miranda said.
“Are you a part of this conversation?”
“Well, excuse me. I was part of the deception, or whatever that was with Ms. Springfield before the pageant. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
I hated it when she was right. “I’m studying them, okay? I’m trying to read their minds. Or Valerie’s mind, anyway. From the text I saw, Gregg is expecting her to ‘Do her job.’ ” I explained what I was thinking, and how I wasn’t sure why he would care about a teenage girls’ pageant so much he would resort to cheating. But then, cheating was sort of his thing, wasn’t it?
Before Nick and Miranda could respond, the girls were back, re-dressed in their formal gowns, to stand on their pedestals. I watched the judges, and it seemed like they were giving Taylor special glances, but I could have been reading into it. I supposed they could have been giving other girls looks, too. None of the three judges seemed especially happy about the decision they’d had to make. The tall woman looked hard at Valerie, shared a meaningful glance with the other guy—although I didn’t know what it meant—and marked up a piece of paper, folding it and holding it up toward the emcee.
“The judges are prepared to reveal their decision!” the emcee chirped, as if nothing in the world could be any more exciting. She flounced over to grab the paper, but I wasn’t really watching her. I was watching as the blood drained from Valerie’s face. She was obviously doing her best to keep it together, but her eyes were darting all around, mostly toward the back of the building, where—gee, what a surprise—Gregg had slipped back in, along with his thugs. Why on earth did he care so much about this stupid contest?
“We want to thank all of the contestants who participated today. Our county is blessed with an abundance of beautiful and talented young women, and today proved that once again. Let’s give a hand to everyone up here on the stage.”
The audience applauded, and the girls up front tried to smile and act like the next five minutes weren’t going to change their lives—which is a sad statement, isn’t it? Taylor was the only one who seemed relaxed and natural, but then, that would be natural, wouldn’t it, if she expected to win because the judging was rigged? Wouldn’t she be surprised when it was revealed that she wouldn’t come out the winner? At least, that’s what I suspected from Valerie’s behavior, smiling at Taylor’s performance and now so worried. But why was she arguing with the other judges? Could they really not see how much better Taylor was than all of the others?
I swear, I would never understand this world.
Summer, the medical miracle—or should I say, experiment—smiled her hideous smile and thrust her chest out to the Atlantic. I wondered just how many brain cells made their home in that head of hers. Looking at her next to those other girls, how could she possibly think she had even a ghost of a chance?
The emcee opened the paper and glanced at it, getting her bearings. “Our third runner-up today hails from the town of Westbrook, where she is a junior at the local high-school.”
It was easy to see who that was, because the girl’s shoulders slumped about a mile before manners kicked back in, and she smiled and straightened. The emcee announced her name, and the girl went forward to receive her banner and wave at the audience. Her disappointment at not winning seemed almost more than she could bear, since her lips trembled, and her eyes shone with tears. Good grief. She should be happy she placed. A bunch of the other girls, in a few moments, would do anything to trade places with her rather than be relegated to the losers.
The emcee announced the second runner-up, who was much more gracious, and actually seemed excited, like she hadn’t expected to place at all. She smiled big-time, and waved and blew kisses.
Nick patted my leg, and I realized how tense I’d become. I relaxed, and let my neck droop. What was I so anxious about, anyway?
“And now, for our first runner-up and alternate. She will step into the role of the county’s winner, should the crowned Lovely Miss winner be unable to perform her duties for any reason. What a privilege and honor. To fill this role for her county and the Lovely Miss organization, please congratulate our first runner-up, Summer Moss!”
There was a pregnant pause, which I felt in my own gut, and then the applause began gradually, until most people were clapping. Summer’s mom sat in the front row, mouth gaping, face red. She really had expected Summer to win. She really had thought all that surgery and cosmetic warfare was going to gain her daughter the title. She was apparently so stunned by the turn of events she couldn’t clap.
But then, Summer was apparently so deaf, she couldn’t hear. She still stood on her pedestal, smiling and looking around like her name hadn’t been called.
“Summer?” The emcee waited until Summer turned her way. “Are you coming down?”
Summer blinked, and then her brow furrowed. Or, it would have, if she still had any flexibility in her face. “Are you talking to me?”
The emcee laughed. “Yes, dear, you are our first runner-up! Congratulations!”
“But…” Her mouth puckered into an O, and she looked out at her mother. “What is she saying?”
“Come on, Summer,” the emcee said,
a little stronger. “Come receive your banner.”
When she still didn’t move, the emcee glanced offstage, and one of the helpers came up, took Summer’s elbow, and led her to the front of the stage.
“Congratulations, Summer. You represented both your town and your county very well.” Better than expected, was what she should have said, seeing how she was a work of science, not unlike the bionic man. Except she wasn’t, well, a hero.
Summer blinked rapidly, frightening small children in the front row, and stood like a statue as she accepted her banner, which announced she was the First Runner-Up. She looked down at it, where it bulged grotesquely over those pounds of fake flesh, and followed the helper robotically back to her place with the others.
“And now,” the emcee said, “it is time to crown our county’s Lovely Miss Pennsylvania winner. This contestant has proven herself to be everything the judges—and we all—look for in our young women. Strength of character, a desire to make the world a better place, and, of course, a lovely countenance to look upon. Please welcome this year’s winner, Taylor Troth!”
