“My dad, the music star,” Nève said proudly. Yet, Meg couldn’t help but notice the strain in her cousin’s smile.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Huh? Oh, I was just wondering if I should even sing my solo tonight…” Nève unplugged the CD player and wound the cord around it, then stuck it in her bag.
“What do you mean? Of course you should sing,” Meg said.
The Acadian Star competition was the biggest thing to ever happen in their tiny Cape Breton town.
“But even if I make it to the finals, I can’t ask my mom and dad for money to go to Halifax. My dad got on with the lobster boats for now, but after that, who knows?” Nève picked up her bag and hugged it to her chest.
“Well, first of all,” Meg replied, “you have an awesome chance of winning. And second, if you win, I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“That’s if we’ll even be here.”
“What do you mean?” Meg asked.
“Well…” Nève hesitated. “My dad is waiting for a callback from Fort McMurray. We might have to move.” Nève sat on one of the wooden chairs and cast her eyes downward.
“Move?” Meg’s breath caught short.
Nève nodded.
Meg saw a thousand moments flash before her eyes. Their first day of school, the millions of sleepovers, the hours and hours they’d spent singing in their bedrooms together, hairbrushes in hand. That couldn’t all come to an end. Not now.
“But you can’t move. We have a master plan, remember?”
“Master plan?” Nève lifted her head and gave a little laugh, despite the brimming tears.
“Yeah, you know.” Meg sat next to Nève and put her arm around her. “We’re the Gallant Girls, remember? We grow up, become famous singers, tour the world, and then move into matching houses overlooking Picasse Bay. How are we supposed to do that when you’re on the other side of the country?”
“Tell my dad that.” Nève sighed.
They sat silent for a long moment as kids milled around them. With the excited chatter about the upcoming evening all around her, Meg’s heart ached at the possibility of losing her best friend. She forced the thought from her mind.
“Let’s try not to worry about something that might not even happen.” Meg squeezed Nève’s shoulder. “Just focus on tonight. I hear they’re actually going to give us real microphones for our solos.”
Meg saw the beginning of Nève’s smile.
“You mean no more hairbrushes?” Nève asked.
“Yup. And don’t forget the finale. We’re the star attraction, don’t you know,” Meg said encouragingly.
Nève’s eyes crinkled. “You’re right. You can’t keep a Gallant Girl down.”
“So you’re in? You’re going to sing your solo?”
“I’m in.”
Meg smiled, encouraged by her friend’s brightened mood.
“Okay, kids!” Gertie Landry’s voice echoed from the back of the hall. She presided over a long table covered with packages. “Those of you in the finale can pick up your costumes over here. Two lines, please!”
Gertie stood with her clipboard and pen, commandeering the proceedings with her usual efficiency.
“Évangelines over here, Gabriels to the left. Your names are on the packages in alphabetical order.”
Meg and Nève rose from their seats and crossed the hall. They shuffled along as the girls’ line inched forward. Meg twirled a stray strand of hair and tried to concentrate on the night’s events.
“Okay, so who’s our competition?” Meg lowered her voice and leaned in towards Nève.
“Well,” Nève began, “Véronique will be judged with the seniors. Mireille, on the other hand, just squeaked into the junior group with us because she won’t be thirteen until the end of September.”
“Mireille will be hard to beat,” Meg said. “Her mother’s been driving her to Port Hawkesbury for music lessons ever since she could talk.”
“Good point. Now, as for the judges, that’s another story. Monsieur Giroir will be easy. You know him, he pretty much loves anything. Soeur Agnes will like the traditional songs the most. But the one you really have to look out for is the visiting judge from Halifax, Madame Deveau. I heard she made someone cry at the Chéticamp competition.”
“Really?” Meg’s eyes widened.
“Apparently, Madame Deveau used to live in Picasse Bay a long time ago. I hear she’s expecting big things from her old hometown, so stay on her good side.”
Both friends giggled and linked arms to wait their turn.
Meg spotted their costumes first. She grabbed them and presented Nève’s to her with mock formality.
“Mademoiselle Gallant.”
“Merci,” Nève replied with a curtsy. She stuck out her tongue for good measure.
They ripped the plastic away from their costumes. Just then, Mireille and Véronique came over to join them.
“Hi guys,” Meg said.
“Ugh, can you believe these are made out of wool?” Mireille thumbed the material of her costume’s skirt.
“When they said they were going for the authentic look, they weren’t kidding,” Véronique joked.
“Yeah, this is totally going to itch when we’re dancing,” Mireille said. “Who was the brainiac who came up with this idea?” She nudged Véronique and laughed.
“I dunno. I kind of like them,” Nève said.
“Well, whatever,” Mireille said. “Ugh! Can someone please stop me from talking! I need to go home and rest my voice before tonight. Did you know that Céline Dion doesn’t talk for three days before a concert?”
“Where’d you hear that?” Meg asked.
“Oh, some tabloid at the grocery store checkout, I think. And I also read that Mariah Carey drinks only licorice root tea. My voice coach says it helps to maintain perfect pitch.”
“You don’t say,” Nève said, then turned to Meg. “Oh Meg, can you help me braid my hair before the finale?”
“Sure…” Meg hesitated. “Oh, no wait, I can’t.” Meg remembered the promise she had made to Tante Perle.
“Why not?” Nève asked.
“I…I’ve got something I need to do.” Meg stole a glance at Mireille, now deep in conversation with Véronique.
“Like what?” Nève asked.
“Um, I just told Tante Perle I’d go get her for the finale,” Meg whispered, making sure no one else heard. She remembered how everyone at school had made fun of her great-aunt.
“That’s so nice of you, Meg. I bet Tante Perle’s gonna love it,” Nève said.
Meg winced at the sound of her great-aunt’s name and crouched to jam her costume into her backpack.
“Squirrelly Perley?” Mireille looked up and let out a laugh. “Is she still going on about dolphins in Picasse Bay?”
“What?” Nève said. “It could happen.”
“Dolphins around here? Yeah, right,” Mireille continued. “Look guys, I know she’s your great-aunt and everything, but you have to admit that lady’s got a one-way ticket to the Butterscotch Palace. And who the heck is that Marguerite she keeps talking about, anyway?”
Meg stiffened but forced a smile. “Oh, probably just one of her crazy imaginary friends. You know our Tante Perle.”
“Ha ha, what a joke.” Mireille shook her head and laughed.
“Don’t you need to go rest your voice or something?” Nève asked.
“Oh! Thanks for reminding me. Well, see you guys later!” She turned to Véronique as they walked away. “Do you think the grocery store has licorice root tea?”
Nève shot Meg a look.
“What?” Meg asked.
“Why did you have to make fun of Tante Perle like that?” Nève asked.
“What? It’s no big deal.” Meg avoided Nève’s gaze and finished stuffing her costume in her backpack.
Nève was about to reply but Meg cut her off with a glance at her watch.
“Shoot, it’s already late. See you back he
re after supper, all right?” She busied herself with her backpack’s zipper.
“Fine.” Nève’s voice softened to a whisper. When Meg looked up, her cousin was gone.
Meg sighed. Just great, she thought. Now Nève was mad at her. Maybe she didn’t have to say that about Tante Perle, but she didn’t want anyone finding out who the real ‘Marguerite’ was, least of all Mireille. Then again, if she had just explained the situation, maybe Nève would have understood.
Or maybe she just shouldn’t have invited Tante Perle to the concert in the first place…
Chapter 4
“BUT, MOM!” Meg yanked open the parish hall’s side door and stepped inside.
“Chérie, you told Tante Perle you’d go get her. She’ll be expecting you.” They stepped down the short flight of stairs that led to the hall basement. “Take Nève with you.”
A din of excited noises rose from the throngs of competitors as they readied themselves for the night’s performance. Meg and her mother picked up concert programs from the table at the base of the stairs.
“Wouldn’t it just be easier if you went? Please…” Meg begged in a hushed tone.
“Meg, you’re the first to sing right after the opening act.” Madame Gallant scanned the program. “You should have lots of time before the finale.”
“But Tante Perle’s so…” Meg paused for a moment, searching for the word.
Madame Gallant tipped her head and raised her eyebrows.
“You know what I mean,” Meg said. “Plus, now she’s started calling me that name.”
“She’s just showing how proud she is that we named you after her.”
“I’m named after her?” Meg groaned. “Great. This just keeps getting better and better.”
“Didn’t I ever tell you that?”
“I think that’s something I would have remembered,” Meg muttered.
“Well I suppose—how could you know? Perle is a nickname for Marguerite, just like Meg is.”
“Not so loud.” Meg tugged at her mother’s coat. She was sure she saw a dozen people look their way. “You know I hate being called that.”
“Well, it’s a Gallant tradition. Every generation has had a Marguerite. Unless there were no girls in the family, of course, like with your dad and Uncle Vince,” Madame Gallant said. “I think it goes back to the very first generation of Gallants, when Michel Haché took on the surname…”
Spare me the history lesson, Meg thought.
“Yeah well, that’s not even the point. You should hear some of the other stuff she’s been saying around town.”
“Oh, I know Tante Perle can be a bit eccentric.” Madame Gallant turned to Meg and straightened the collar of her daughter’s shirt. “But I expect you to be nice, okay?”
Meg sighed. “Okay.”
“Ten minutes to curtain time!” Gertie bellowed across the excited mass of competitors, clipboard in hand.
“Kiss?” Madame Gallant puckered her lipsticked mouth and gave Meg a peck on the cheek. Meg scrunched her face, knowing full well that it was now smudged with Wineberry Red #115. She rubbed the back of her hand against her cheek.
Her mom smiled.
“You go out and do your very best. And don’t worry about the judges, okay, chérie?” With that, her mother disappeared upstairs to the main hall to take her seat.
Meg scanned the room for Nève and found her sitting with Mireille at the far end of the hall basement. Maybe Nève would go with her to get Tante Perle, like her mom had suggested. Then Meg could explain the whole Marguerite thing to her like she should have done in the first place. She threaded her way through the noisy crowd and joined her friends.
“Hi guys.” She dumped her backpack beside them.
“Hey, Meg. You ready for the big night?” Mireille asked, not waiting for a reply. “Oh my gosh, I’m nervous like you wouldn’t believe. I told my mom if I didn’t win tonight, she should demand her money back from all those music lessons.” She laughed, then eyed Meg. “No offence.”
“Of course not.” Meg forced a smile and tried to meet Nève’s gaze, but her cousin kept her head down, studying her lyrics.
Was Nève still mad at her about what she said to Mireille earlier? Once she explained everything, Meg was sure Nève would understand.
But not with Mireille there. Somehow Meg would have to get her cousin alone.
“Oh, Nève, come find me after your song. I should have time to do your hair, after all.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to get Tante Perle?” Nève looked up. Her face contorted in an expression Meg had trouble reading.
“No, I just…” Meg began.
Just then, Gertie motioned for the performers to assemble for the opening act.
“Eee! That’s us!” Mireille grabbed Nève’s arm.
“We need to talk,” Nève whispered. Were those tears Meg saw? Was Nève really that upset?
“Come on, Nève!” Mireille pulled her towards the group.
Meg stood alone, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She bowed her head and rushed to the girl’s washroom, her cheeks burning.
So maybe she shouldn’t have made fun of Tante Perle along with Mireille. But was that enough of a reason for Nève to act so hurt? Meg chucked her backpack on the counter and turned on the tap. She splashed a palm full of cool water on her face and stared in the mirror.
Wineberry Red. She rubbed at the stubborn stain with wet fingers, and then yanked at the last piece of paper towel from the holder.
She caught the image of Véronique stepping out of a washroom stall in the reflection of the mirror.
“Hi, Meg. Where’s Nève?” Of course Véronique would wonder. She and Nève were usually inseparable. Still, the question annoyed Meg. She swung around to face her.
“With Mireille.” She spat out the words.
Véronique drew her chin to her chest in surprise.
Meg turned back to the mirror and worked the last of the lipstick off her cheek. “Sorry, it’s just…never mind. Sorry, Véronique.”
Véronique joined her at a nearby sink.
“It’s okay,” Véronique said as she lathered the pink soap in her hands. “Everyone’s really stressed out tonight. Especially Nève.”
Meg locked eyes with Véronique in the mirror. Véronique squeaked the tap closed.
“Oh, didn’t you hear? They got the call at suppertime. Nève’s dad took a job in Fort McMurray. They leave right after lobster season.” Véronique brushed past Meg to get a paper towel.
“Uh…oh sorry, I took the last one,” Meg said, dazed.
“No worries,” Véronique said. She shook her hands to dry them, sending a sprinkle of water droplets onto the floor and counter. “Gotta go. I’m in the opening ceremony.” With that, Véronique yanked the door open and disappeared.
Meg’s knees wobbled. She leaned against the water-splattered counter. Her best friend was moving to Alberta? How could this be happening?
No wonder Nève was upset! Meg rushed out of the washroom into the chaos of performers. She had to talk to Nève before the concert started.
“Opening ceremony people backstage, please!” Gertie tapped her clipboard with a pen. A rush of people grazed past Meg and headed up to the main hall. She caught a glimpse of Nève’s glossy blonde hair halfway up the stairs.
“Nève!” she shouted above the din of stomping feet. But her shout was swallowed by the confusion and noise. The group disappeared through the door leading backstage at the top of the stairs. Chairs scraped overhead as people took their seats in the main hall as the concert began.
Meg turned and leaned heavily against the staircase railing. Nève couldn’t move to Alberta! When would she ever see her again?
“Juniors line up, you’re next.” Gertie checked off names from her clipboard. “Meg Gallant, Nève Gallant, Stacey Landry, Mireille LeBlanc…”
Great, Meg thought. She was singing first, then Nève. There was no way she’d get to talk to her friend u
ntil Nève finished her song.
“Okay, Meg, you’re up first.” Gertie pointed her pen to Meg and motioned to the stairs that led backstage.
Meg trudged up the steps. She flattened her hair with the palms of her hands, waiting for the opening act to wrap up. How could she even do this after learning about Nève moving? Did she even remember the words? How was she ever going to get through this performance after what had just happened?
The next few minutes were a blur. Uncle Vince’s band wrapped up the opening act as the performers took their bows. Meg tried to catch Nève’s eye, but the group exited the stage from the opposite side. Stagehands hustled props on and off the stage around Meg, adding to the confusion.
The announcer spoke.
“Wow! Wasn’t that something? I can’t think of a better way to kick off Picasse Bay’s first ever Acadian Star competition.” A round of applause sounded from the audience. “We’ll now begin with our junior competitors. The judges will make their comments after each performer and the finalists will be announced before the grand finale.
“And now, without further ado, our first junior competitor—Meg Gallant!”
Another round of applause rose from the audience. Hands urged Meg onstage from behind. She barely had time to think before she found herself alone at centre stage. The bright spotlight seared white pricks of light across her vision. A sea of faces wavered in front of her.
“And what will you be singing for us tonight?” a voice asked.
Meg zoned in on the three people sitting just below the stage. They sat poised on an elevated platform behind a long table covered with a white cloth. Three small Acadian flags graced their spots, next to stacks of papers and pens.
The judges!
Meg froze. Thoughts of Nève moving away swirled with the lyrics jumbling in her mind. A cold sweat stuck the polyester of her costume to her skin. What had she decided to sing, anyway?
“I…uh…”
Meg’s mind went blank.
Chapter 5
Acadian Star Page 2
