Miss Mayhem

by Rachel Hawkins

  And look where we’d ended up.

  I turned back to the stage, where a girl was practicing what might have been a modern dance routine. There were a lot of jazz hands happening, and a costume that was way too short. She’d probably learned to dance at the Pine Grove School of Dance over by the highway. Mom had sent me and Leigh-Anne to the Pine Grove Performing Arts School for our dance classes, since, according to her, the performances at PGSOD were too risqué.

  As I watched the girl onstage stick her leg up behind her ear, I had to acknowledge Mom might have been right.

  Then I tried to picture myself in that girl’s place. Me. Onstage, in front of the whole town, doing a “talent,” twirling that stupid baton. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my shoulders back and made my way down the slight incline to the stage. There was a long table set up just in front of the first row of seats, and a woman sat behind it, stacks of paper in front of her.

  “Miss Plumley?” I asked, Bee trailing beside me. The woman turned around, pushing her glossy dark hair out of her eyes with manicured nails. A ridiculously huge diamond sparkled on her left hand, nearly blinding me as it caught the lights from the stage, and I remembered hearing that Sara was engaged to Dr. Bennett, a new dentist in town.

  Sara Plumley had been friends with Leigh-Anne when we were growing up, even though she’d been a few years older than my sister. Still, she’d gone to our church, and when Leigh-Anne had been on the cheerleading squad her freshman year, Sara had been a senior.

  She’d also won Miss Pine Grove several years back, and now she seemed to be the main force keeping the pageant going.

  When she saw me and Bee, Sara gave a good-natured eye roll. “Oh, for heaven’s saaaake, Harper,” she drawled. “Do not call me ‘Miss Plumley,’ please, not when I’m only a few years older than you. It’s always Sara.”

  Her accent was so thick that it came out “Say-ra,” and I smiled, hugging her when she stood up.

  “Okay, fine, Sara, then.”

  “That’s better,” she said with a wink. Then she looked up at Bee.

  “Beeee, darlin’, how are you? Didn’t your mama say you were at some sort of . . .” Her face clouded for a second. “What was it again? A camp?”

  “Cheerleading camp,” Bee said quickly, and I hurried on before Sara could ask any more questions.

  “So how is all of this going?” I nodded up at the stage, where a handful of girls were milling around.

  Sara gave a wave of her hand. “The Lord is testing me, as usual. I swear, I would rather wrangle kittens than try to get a bunch of teenage girls to follow instructions, but what can you do?”

  Her brown eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the two of us. “Are you girls here to volunteer? Because I am not gonna lie, I could use some help, especially from someone as organized as you, Harper. From the way I heard it, you practically ran Cotillion back in the fall.”

  She shook her head, glossy waves falling over her shoulder. “Of course, not even you could hold off a freaking earthquake. What a mess.”

  That was one word for it. But I smiled at Sara and shook my head. “Actually, we’re here to sign up. For the pageant.”

  Sara’s heart-shaped face wrinkled in a frown. “Well, that’s real nice, honey, but sign-ups were last week. You know I love you, but I can’t let you join up this late. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  I bit back a smart reply. There were maybe twenty girls in the whole pageant, so it wasn’t like me and Bee joining up was suddenly going to tip the whole thing into chaos. But snapping at Sara wasn’t going to get me anywhere, and Aunt Jewel always said you gathered more flies with honey than vinegar.

  So I put on my most honeyed smile and let my own accent drag out a little as I simpered, “I knooow, I’m so late. But to be honest, I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to do the pageant this year, and then I was dusting Mama’s curio cabinet. You know, the one right by our front door?”

  Sara nodded, a little hesitant, and I decided it was time to lay it on thick. “And I saw Leigh-Anne’s picture in there, from back when she won, and I . . .” I let myself trail off before biting my lower lip. “I felt like it was something I needed to do. I’ve followed in her footsteps in so many things, and the Miss Pine Grove pageant seemed like the final piece.”

  It was loathsome and heinous and probably made me a bad person, taking advantage of Leigh-Anne’s death. But being a Paladin sometimes meant doing things like this, no matter how yucky I found it. If Bee was right and the last trial was tied to this pageant somehow, I sure as heck was going to be in it.

  And yucky or not, it worked, because a sheen of tears suddenly appeared in Sara’s eyes. She looked up at the ceiling, dabbing at the skin under her eyes with those French-manicured nails. “Oh, honey,” she said, her voice thick. “You are exactly right. I don’t know why I was fussing about deadlines and sign-up sheets.”

  She pointed one of those sharp nails at us. “But promise me that neither one of you is planning on singing ‘The Greatest Love of All’ or ‘Hero’ as your talent. If I have to hear either of those two songs again, I will eat a gun.”

  When Bee and I shook our heads, Sara gave a relieved sigh and handed us sign-up forms. “Fill these out and get them back to me by next Monday. That’s the next rehearsal.”

  “We can’t rehearse today?” Bee asked, gesturing up at the stage. A girl I didn’t recognize—she either went to Lee High, the big public school on the other side of town, or was one of the girls from a neighboring county—was tap-dancing like her life depended on it.

  But apparently Sara had already broken enough of her rules today, because she gave a very firm shake of her head. “Absolutely not. Not until your paperwork is sorted out.”

  “That’s fine,” I said quickly. I needed time to prepare myself for pageant practice anyway. Just coming in here had been weird enough. But, hey, if my trial ended up being public humiliation, at least I’d given the Ephors a heck of a setting.

  Agreeing with Sara made her happy, because she flashed that super-white smile at me again. “Good. So are y’all gonna do the Festival, too?”

  I wrinkled my nose. The Azalea Festival was the big fair on the outskirts of town. We had it every spring, along with the pageant, a giant bake sale, and this thing where people drove around looking at old houses with girls in hoop skirts out front.

  The fair was like any carnival—rides, fried food, cheesy games, and oversized stuffed animals. I’d never been that crazy about it, even as a kid, but I’d always gone. The last few years, it had been a double-date thing with Ryan, Bee, and Brandon, and I’d kind of been looking forward to skipping it this year.

  “Ooh, I hadn’t thought about that!” Bee said, slipping her arm through mine again. “We ought to go tonight.” Her brown eyes were warm when she looked down at me and added, “It might cheer you up.”

  I was pretty sure a cheesy town fair couldn’t cheer up anyone, but, hey, I was already doing this pageant. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought, and smiled back at her. “Sounds great.”

  Chapter 20

  WHEN I GOT HOME, David’s car was parked against the curb, and I took a deep breath.

  My parents were still at work, so David must have used the extra key like I’d told him to.

  He was already in my room when I came up, standing at my desk, fiddling with his phone.

  “Hi,” I said, and he glanced up quickly, fumbling to put his phone in his pocket.

  “Hi.”

  I inwardly cringed. This was ridiculous. A few days ago, he had been my boyfriend. In fact, the last time he’d been in this room, we’d done a fair amount of making out, and now I was standing in my own room, feeling awkward and . . . oh dear Lord, was I blushing?

  Shaking my head, I tossed my bag next to my desk and put on my most no-nonsense voice to ask, “So what’s up?”

  David blinked behind his glasses. There were circles under his eyes, and I wondered if he was still having trouble sleeping. I could ask him that
, right? I mean, that was Paladin/Oracle business, not girlfriend stuff. And the more I focused on Paladin stuff, the easier it was not to feel angry or hurt or any of the other things I’d been feeling since that afternoon in his car.

  But just to be on the safe side, I didn’t mention it, and instead sat down backward on my desk chair, folding my arms on the back and resting my chin on top of them.

  Clearing his throat, David gestured to my bed. “Can I sit?”

  “Sure,” I said with a wave of my hand, trying not to remember how the last time he’d sat on my bed, I’d been sitting with him, my arms wrapped around his neck, our lips—

  Nope. Nope, nope, nope, not thinking kissing thoughts.

  But I thought maybe David was thinking them, too, especially since his neck was red and he wasn’t quite meeting my eyes.

  He sat down on my purple comforter and pulled an enormous book from his messenger bag. “I think I might have found something.”

  I should not have been disappointed. Of course he came over to talk business. That was good. Hadn’t he promised to keep looking for more information about the trials? So, yeah, not disappointed at all. Pleased. Proud. Happy things like that.

  “There isn’t much,” he said, opening the book on his lap and flipping to a page marked with a yellow sticky note. “Apparently they wanted to keep it pretty secret.”

  “Makes sense,” I observed, twisting one of my rings. “Isn’t the element of surprise the whole point? See how quickly you can think on your feet without getting killed?”

  David glanced up at me, his lips quirking. “Basically, yeah. But here”—he tapped the page—“there’s a story about a sixteenth-century Paladin, another girl—er, woman—like you, who went through her Peirasmos. It seems like the trials themselves are geared toward the particular Paladin. So, like, the first one was specific to you because of . . . the school, I guess.”

  Taking a deep breath, I stood up and walked back to my desk chair, bracing my hands on the back. “Thanks for this, David.”

  He gave an uneasy shrug, shoulders rolling underneath his gray T-shirt. Wait, David was wearing a T-shirt? A regular one without, like, a dragon on it or an ugly pattern? Then I took in the rest of his outfit. Jeans, and regular jeans at that, not those super-skinny ones he liked so much. Even his shoes were plain sneakers.

  “Was there a fire at the argyle factory?” I asked, nodding at his clothes, and hoping that didn’t come out too mean. I wasn’t sure if snarkiness was something we could still do, or if it came off as too flirty now.

  David frowned at me, brow wrinkling before understanding dawned. “Oh, right. Yeah, I, uh, threw something on this morning.”

  I was probably reading too much into David’s wardrobe. We all had days when fashion seemed beyond us, right? Surely his dull clothing didn’t mean he was . . . bummed or anything. Why should he be? He was the one who had done the dumping, not me.

  There was a sudden stinging in my eyes that I blinked away, turning to study the calendar on my desk like it was the most important thing in the history of creation. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you leave the book with me? I want to read a little bit more.”

  I’d been aiming for “breezy,” but my voice was so tight it sounded like I was choking.

  And then I felt a warm weight on my elbow. Glancing down, I saw David’s fingers curled there against my skin, and I let out a slow breath.

  “Pres,” he said, his voice every bit as tight, and I turned to look at him.

  His eyes were very blue, and the freckles across his nose stood out against his paler-than-normal skin, and all I wanted to do was tuck myself against his chest and breathe in that familiar smell of soap and printer ink that David carried on him.

  Then I shook myself. No. He had called things off, and a girl had to have some pride.

  I stepped back so that his hand fell from my elbow and folded my arms across my chest. “Thanks for your help,” I said again, and this time, there was no choking feeling in my throat. “But you should probably go now. My parents will be home soon, and they’ll freak if you’re in my room with no one else here.”

  “Right,” he said, turning away quickly to grab his bag off the floor. “Good. Well, um. I hope it helps.”

  “I’m sure it will,” I told him, forcing a smile.

  I picked up the book instead of turning to watch him go. I’d just opened it when my phone buzzed. It was Bee.

  “Azalea Festival? When do you wanna come over?” I glanced at the book on my bed, and then at my phone.

  “Be there in fifteen.”

  • • •

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  It was already the third time Bee had asked the question, so for the third time, I gave her the same answer.

  “I’m great!” Earlier, when she’d answered the door, I’d said it with a sincere look in my eyes. Then when we’d come up to her room and she’d asked again, I’d tossed it over my shoulder as I flipped through the latest issue of US Weekly. Now, I didn’t even look up, pawing through my purse for mascara.

  From behind me on her bed, I heard Bee heave a sigh, and I fought back one of my own. It wasn’t that I wasn’t thankful for her concern. I was, honestly. But I didn’t want to talk about David to her or to anyone else right now. It was all . . . yucky. Stressing over the trials, worrying about David being an Oracle, dealing with Bee being back—happy as that last thing was. Thinking about the breakup was too much on top of all of that, and for now, I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. That shouldn’t be so hard, right? I mean, David and I had gone years and years practically hating each other. Surely, it wouldn’t be that tough to downshift to not being in love.

  Too bad my eyes stung as soon as I thought of the word “love.”

  I located my mascara and did my best to act like all the blinking I was doing had everything to do with makeup application and nothing to do with David Stark.

  “I’m super excited about the fair tonight!” I chirped, and Bee met my gaze in the mirror.

  She sat up, tossing her own magazine back onto her nightstand and frowning. “Okay, now I know you’re not okay, because you are never ‘super excited about the fair.’”

  “What are you talking about?” I scoffed, sliding the mascara wand back into its tube. “There are rides and lights and cotton candy. You have to be some kind of Nazi not to like cotton candy.”

  Bee’s brown eyes narrowed. “And there’s also the smell of manure and dudes who wear trucker hats, and more chewing tobacco than you can spit at.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Get it? Spit? Because chewing—”

  Holding up a hand, I stopped her before the thought could make me any more nauseated. “I got it. And you’re right, I’m not a fan of those things.” With that, I turned, bracing my hands on the little vanity. Bee’s room had been the envy of every girl we knew . . . when we were eight. For some reason, she’d never gotten around to redecorating, and while I definitely understood the allure of a canopy bed, it was always a little weird seeing all six feet of Bee on a pink swiss-dotted bedspread.

  “What I am a fan of,” I continued, crossing my ankles, “is spending time with you. I need a good girls’ night.”

  Bee’s eyes darted away from mine.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Don’t get mad,” she said quickly, “but I sort of asked Ryan if he wanted to come with?”

  For a second, all I could do was blink at her. And then, when I actually went to talk, my voice was way too high. “Ryan?” I all but squeaked.

  “I didn’t mean to,” Bee replied, rising to her feet. She was fiddling with the ends of her hair. “I was talking about the fair, and he mentioned that he wasn’t sure he was going this year because he and Mary Beth had planned to go, but obviously that’s not happening, and then he looked so bummed and I felt bad for him.”

  Last year, Ryan and I had gone to the fair with Bee and Brandon. I could practically still smell the popcorn and sugary-sweet scent of candy
apples. Could remember Ryan’s hand warm in mine. It hadn’t been a great night or anything—Bee was right, the fair wasn’t exactly my fave—but it had been normal.

  I tried to imagine walking around the fair tonight with Ryan, not just my ex but a freaking Mage, a walking, talking reminder of how weird my life had become.

  Disappointment has a taste, I swear. Something kind of bitter in the back of your throat that you can’t quite swallow. It seemed like I was tasting it a lot these days.

  But now I smiled at Bee and said, “Oh no, I totally get that. No worries.”

  Bee tilted her head, watching me. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” I waved one hand. “Ryan and I are okay for the most part, and it might be nice to do something with him that’s not crazy-superpower related.”

  Bee nodded, her hair bouncing. “That’s what I thought!” she said, and there was something about the brightness of the words that had me looking at her a little more closely.

  “Bee,” I said slowly, resting one hip back against the vanity, its lace skirt brushing my calves. “You’re not thinking about Parent Trapping us, are you?”

  Rolling her eyes, Bee flopped back onto the bed. “This Paladin thing is making you paranoid. I only want everything to be normal.”

  So did I. A lot. But the thing was, it was never going to be. And it was like every time I thought I’d achieved some kind of normal, there was some new wrinkle thrown in, some curveball I had to adjust to. “Excellent multitasker” might have been one of the skills I’d listed on college applications, but it was getting harder and harder to do.

  Maybe tonight could be a start, though. If eating cotton candy with Ryan and riding a machine that had been put together by scary dudes for like twenty bucks would make Bee happy, I’d give it a shot.

  Chapter 21

  THE FAIRGROUNDS were set up on this big field the town had especially to host the festivities every year, about a fifteen-minute drive from Bee’s house.