Across the auditorium, Brent stood. “I, Brent Sanderson, second the nomination for Felicity.” He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Felicity’s legs took control, and before she knew it, she was standing. Her whole body trembled slightly, but she hoped it didn’t show. “I, Felicity St. John, thank you and accept your nomination,” she heard herself saying. Savannah smiled and passed her a rose, and there was a roar of applause. Felicity could barely distinguish it from the ringing in her ears.
Now was the moment. She had to get it over with before she chickened out. She looked at Haylie, who was preparing to make her way down the aisle and accept her own rose. Her little freckled face was radiant with anticipation. Gabby, who was sitting two rows behind her, stared at Felicity expectantly.
Do it, her eyes said. Do it now. Or else.
“Felicity? Does the fact that you’re still standing mean you’d like to nominate someone?” asked Madison, the sweetness in her voice edged with annoyance.
Felicity took a deep breath.
“Yes. I, Felicity St. John, nominate Gabrielle Vaughn for prom queen.”
The sound of one person drawing in her breath is almost inaudible. But the sound of three hundred students drawing their collective breath was surprisingly loud. There was a moment of silence following the gasp, and then the whole room broke out in whispers and laughter. Felicity forced herself to look at her friends, then wished she hadn’t. Haylie looked stricken, and she was gripping Ivy’s hand as if she were afraid she might drown. Felicity mouthed, “I’m sorry,” but there was no way Haylie could read her lips at this distance.
Madison banged her clipboard on the lectern, and the noise subsided. “Everyone, please settle down,” she called, sounding more like the sharp-tongued Madison Felicity was used to. “Would anyone like to second Felicity’s nomination for … um … Gabrielle Vaughn?” She seemed to have trouble saying the name out loud.
Marina stood up. “I, Marina Rios, second the nomination for Gabby.”
Gabby stood and looked around the auditorium with a beatific smile. She seemed oblivious to the fact that the entire junior and senior classes were staring at her with shock and horror. “I, Gabrielle Vaughn, accept your nominations. Thanks, Felicity and Marina.” There was a feeble smattering of applause as Gabby approached the stage and pried a rose from the hand of flabbergasted Kendall. She nodded at Felicity before she walked away.
Felicity collapsed into her chair. It was done. Her secret was safe. But she didn’t feel the relief she had expected.
Gabby wasn’t even back in her seat before Ivy jumped up and announced, “I, Ivy Locklear, nominate Haylie Adams for prom queen.” She shot Felicity a cutting look. Vanessa Caldwell, who was in the dance troupe with Haylie, seconded the nomination. When Haylie stood up to accept, she looked composed, but Felicity had known her long enough to recognize the slight catch in her voice. It was obvious how hurt she was.
It wasn’t until Haylie was a few feet from the stage that Felicity realized it was her turn to present a rose. She chose the prettiest flower in the box and offered it to her friend, her eyes full of apologies. But Haylie refused to look at her as she snatched the rose away, raking a thorn across Felicity’s thumb.
The rest of the assembly was a blur. Felicity didn’t even remember to nominate Brent until Gretchen Williams, who had been trying to steal him for the last six months, did it first. She considered leaving school immediately after the assembly, but she doubted she could slip out of the building unnoticed.
She was right. As soon as the assembly ended, a stormy-faced Haylie was on her feet and pushing through the crowd toward the stage. Ivy followed in her wake, also looking grim. Felicity left the rest of the prom committee to clean up and hurried off the stage before Haylie reached her. The last thing she wanted was for their confrontation to turn into a show.
Haylie ripped into her the moment she was within shouting range. “So, there’s nothing going on with you and Gabby, right, Felicity? Is that why you just chose her over me in front of the entire freaking school? What is wrong with you?”
Everyone in the immediate vicinity paused to listen, their eyes fever-bright with curiosity. There was nothing Scarletville High liked better than a good scandal. Felicity grabbed Haylie’s shoulder and tried to steer her toward the exit at the side of the auditorium, but Haylie jerked away. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped.
“Can we please talk about this somewhere else?” Felicity begged. “I don’t want to do this with a hundred people listening.”
“You know what? I don’t care how many people hear what I have to say, because I’m right.” There was a chorus of “Oooooohs” from the eavesdroppers, and Felicity’s ears and cheeks started to burn.
She lowered her voice. “Yes, trust me, I know you’re right. What I did absolutely sucked, and I’m the worst friend ever, and I’m so, so sorry. But seriously, I can’t talk about this in here, okay? Will you please just come out in the hall with me?”
“Fine.” Haylie pushed past Felicity and headed for the side door, and Ivy started after her. Felicity took a few deep breaths, trying to keep from crying. Then she followed her friends into the passage along the side of the auditorium.
The door slammed behind them, and everything went perfectly quiet. Ivy leaned against the wall behind Haylie with her arms folded across her chest. Though she didn’t speak, the steely expression on her face left no doubt about whose side she was on.
“What the hell just happened?” Haylie demanded. “Is there a reason you humiliated me in there, or was that just your way of trying to get ahead?”
“Get ahead? Ahead in what?”
“I don’t know! People’s opinions! The pageant! Whatever it is that’s making you act like a total crazy person! Let me give you some advice, Felicity: shooting down your friends in public is not going to make people like you more!”
Felicity had no idea where to begin. “I wasn’t trying to humiliate you,” she started. “I would never hurt you on purpose, and I’m not trying to get ahead. I tried to tell you what I was going to do before the assembly, but I just … I didn’t think you’d understand, and I knew you’d be totally pissed at me.”
“I am totally pissed at you, and I don’t understand!” Tears were spilling down Haylie’s cheeks now. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, and you promised you’d nominate me. I’ve always been there for you. I even let you have the perfect pageant gown! You know how much that meant to me, and I gave it to you, even though you’re my competition and you’re already so much more likely to win than me—”
“Haylie, this isn’t about—”
“And then you go and hang a massive picture of me as a hyena in the art show, and then you give my nomination to that bitch, who you claim you’re not even friends with!”
“I’m not friends with her!” Felicity protested. “I didn’t want to nominate her!”
“But you did nominate her! It’s not like anyone was forcing you! So what the hell is going on? Do you secretly hate me or something?”
There were only two possible courses of action: Felicity could tell Haylie and Ivy she was being blackmailed, or she could refuse to tell them what was going on and look totally heartless. For a moment, she seriously considered spilling her secret. But if anyone else overheard her, the news would spread faster than a viral video. She’d become a social outcast in five seconds flat, and she’d probably be kicked out of the pageant, for which her mom would never forgive her. Plus, winning that prize money was her only ticket out of Scarletville, her only chance to have the life she really wanted.
Telling the truth just wasn’t an option.
Four accusing eyes stared Felicity down.
“No, Hays, I don’t hate you at all. And I do have a reason for what I did, but I can’t tell you what it is. I’m so sorry.” Both Haylie and Ivy gaped at her, incredulous. “It has nothing to do with you, I swear. You just got caught in the cross fire. I wish more than anything that I c
ould take it all back, or at least explain it to you, but I just … can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? We tell each other everything. You don’t trust us all of a sudden?”
“I do trust you. But I … I can’t talk about it right now.”
Haylie and Ivy stared at her, and she stared back. Nobody spoke, and in that silence Felicity felt something break between her and her best friends. Finally, Ivy said, “If you have nothing else to say for yourself, I think we’re done here. You can come find us when you’re ready to be honest.” She took Haylie’s arm and pulled her gently but firmly toward the door. “Come on, Hays. We have English.”
Felicity followed them. “You still got nominated,” she said to Haylie, her voice full of desperation. “I was sure you would be. I never would have left you stranded.”
Haylie whirled around and shot Felicity a furious, wounded look. “Getting nominated wasn’t the point,” she said. “Georgia’s obviously going to win. I just wanted to be nominated by you.” She followed Ivy into the hall.
“I’m so sorry,” whispered Felicity, but it was too late. The only response she got was the slam of the door.
9
FRIDAY, MAY 14–SUNDAY, MAY 16
The rest of the day was a little slice of hell.
When the bell rang for lunch, Felicity headed for her usual table in the cafeteria, ready to apologize, plead, and prostrate herself at Haylie’s feet. But she stopped short halfway across the room when Ivy caught her eye and gave her the patented Locklear Look of Death. Haylie stiffened, clearly aware she was there, but she kept her back turned and showed no signs of yielding. It was too early for forgiveness.
Felicity sighed and looked around for somewhere else to sit. She usually didn’t mind that she and Brent had different lunch periods, but she really could have used him today. She needed a big hug and some unconditional adoration.
“Felicity! Over here!” She turned around and saw a table overflowing with sophomore girls, an explosion of flat-ironed red hair, miniskirts, and fur-topped boots. They were indistinguishable from one another; if one of them had mugged Felicity, she couldn’t have picked the perpetrator out of a lineup. A few of them beamed and waved, and the rest giggled in unison. Felicity waved back halfheartedly and retreated a few steps.
“Is it true that you totally trashed Haylie Adams at the assembly this morning?” the bravest one called. Another chorus of giggles followed.
It was unbelievable how fast information spread. Felicity had never spoken to any of these girls, yet here they were, discussing her personal business. “No, of course not,” she snapped.
“It’s okay, we get it,” another clone said. “She’s your competition now, right?”
“I’m not going to discuss this with you.” Felicity turned to leave.
As she walked away, one of the girls called, “Do you want to sit with us? We really love your outfit!”
“We hope you win the pageant!”
Felicity breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted an empty seat between Kendall and Savannah. “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked, already sliding into the chair.
“Of course not.” Kendall scooted her bag over to make room. “How’re you holding up?”
“Haylie’s still pissed at you, huh?” Savannah said. “She’ll get over it.”
Felicity unwrapped her sandwich and took an angry bite. “Is anyone talking about anything besides me and Haylie? I just got grilled by a bunch of sophomores I don’t even know.”
Kendall shrugged. “All you pageant girls are like royalty right now. Of course people are going to dissect everything you do. Every entry we got for the lit mag this quarter was about the pageant except one. We’re having an entire pageant-themed issue.”
“What’s the other one about?”
“I’m not actually sure. Cocaine, maybe? But it also could have been about skiing.”
A smiling Gabby passed their table, and the very sight of her made Felicity’s stomach twist into a pretzel. The moment she was out of earshot, Savannah leaned in close. “What you did this morning was really ballsy, by the way. Are you trying to make some sort of statement? Or are you guys actually friends?”
“No, we are not friends.” Felicity glanced over at the table across the room where her real friends were laughing at a joke she’d never hear. A pang of sadness and anger stabbed through her.
“Why’d you do it, then?”
Felicity sighed. “I’m sorry, but could we not talk about it? It’s been a really awful morning.”
Savannah and Kendall seemed disappointed, but to Felicity’s relief, the conversation quickly turned to Miss Scarlet gossip. Jessie Parish was allegedly having her dress custom-made at a shop in Des Moines, financed by her wealthy Southern grandmother, who wanted Jessie to be a debutante. Savannah wondered whether it would be boring to wear white orchids in her hair for both the prom and the pageant. Kendall had heard that Ariel was going to wear the same dress for both events, a plan everyone found outrageous. When Savannah shrugged and said, “Well, let’s be honest, how much can you really expect from a strawbie?” everyone laughed, and Felicity had to stuff her mouth with sandwich to disguise her reaction. That was exactly how people would see her if they ever found out about her hair. And that was why she had to protect her secret at all costs, no matter what she had to trade for Gabby’s silence.
But as she watched Haylie and Ivy sharing their daily pack of Skittles, a tiny splinter of doubt started working its way through her resolve. How much more lying and betrayal could she stand? At some point, would protecting herself stop being worth it?
Felicity tried Haylie’s cell three times on Friday night, but the calls went straight to voice mail. She could barely stand to listen to the outgoing message, which Haylie had recorded while the two of them were together at the mall. She and Haylie had been friends since preschool, and they had never had a major fight. Was it possible to destroy a fourteen-year relationship with one mistake?
When she finally managed to fall asleep, things got even worse—for the first time, Felicity had The Dream twice in one night. After waking to the sound of her own screams at two a.m. and again at four-forty-five, she lay awake for what seemed like an eternity, wondering how she could gain the upper hand with Gabby. She finally brought her ancient laptop into bed with her, signed into RedNet—Scarletville’s social networking site for redheads—and sifted through hundreds of photos from parties and school events. Just one shot of Gabby drinking, smoking, or hooking up with someone embarrassing might give her a bit of leverage. But nobody on RedNet socialized with brunettes, so Gabby didn’t appear in a single picture.
Felicity finally drifted off at dawn, only to be ripped from her peaceful cocoon of sleep two hours later, when her mom burst into her bedroom. “Rise and shine, morning glory!” Ginger chirped. “We have work to do!”
Felicity opened one eye, then quickly shut it against the assault of sunlight that stabbed through her brain like a shish kebab skewer. “What?”
“I’m giving you a pageant coaching session this morning, remember? We’ve got to whip that tap routine of yours into shape if you’re going to win. You’ve been letting the pageant fall by the wayside, and it’s time to make it your first priority! Up, up, up, lazybones!” She smacked Felicity’s butt.
Felicity groaned in protest and sat up, pushing her tangled mass of hair out of her face. “Isn’t it unfair to the other girls if you give me special private coaching?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already handled it.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, if you must know, I took a hundred dollars out of your bank account. That way, you can just say you hired me if it becomes an issue. Anyone can pay me to coach them, so it’s totally aboveboard.”
Felicity stared at her mom in horror. “That’s all my Christmas money! I was going to go to Cadmium Paints and—”
“Felicity, this is more important than whatever else you we
re going to spend it on, okay? If you win the pageant, I’ll happily give it all back. Now, get up and get your tap shoes. I’ll make you a blueberry waffle.”
Felicity dragged herself out of bed, enveloped in a fog of resentment. Her mother became a drill sergeant when she was in pageant-coaching mode, and Felicity wasn’t prepared to deal with that or with her tap routine on just a few hours of sleep. The routine itself wasn’t the problem—the choreography was impressive, and it showcased her abilities well. But the music her mom had forced on her was another story.
In a moment of nostalgia, Ginger had insisted that Felicity dance to the same song she had used for her own tap routine in the pageant twenty-five years ago. Seventeen-year-old Ginger had tapped to a big-band classic called “Red Is the Color of My Heart,” sung by jazz legend Ella-Mae Finch. Everyone knew the song, which often played in department stores and dentists’ offices, but Felicity didn’t know anyone besides her mother who actually liked it. It was maudlin and saccharine, exactly the opposite of Felicity’s personality. She had put up a fight, but Ginger was persistent and had talked of almost nothing else for ten days straight. Finally, Felicity had chosen surrender over losing her mind.
At Ginger’s urging, she had learned the routine over winter break, long before Miss Scarlet applications were due. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she still knew the choreography, but it was hard to practice when Ella-Mae’s crooning made her wish she were deaf. The last time she’d given the routine more than a cursory run-through was weeks ago, and she knew her mom wasn’t going to be happy when she discovered how much Felicity had been slacking.
Felicity dressed in a tank top and yoga pants and stumbled downstairs. Before she’d even finished her waffle, Ginger whisked her plate away and announced, “Time to get started! Go on down to the basement. I’m going to make sure the boys are okay helping Victor in the yard, and then I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Felicity shivered as she descended into the clammy air of the basement. The room smelled vaguely of cat litter, though they hadn’t had a cat since she was in seventh grade. The sunlit living room would have made a cheerier rehearsal space, but she couldn’t very well tap on the carpeting. Soon Ginger appeared with a sunny smile on her face. She cued up Felicity’s music on her iPod, which she connected to the speakers. “You ready, baby?” she asked.
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