Red

by Alison Cherry

  Ariel headed off into the wings, and Donna Marie called Felicity’s name. Felicity took a deep breath, smiled, and ordered her feet to move forward.

  She strode out onto the stage, one hand cocked on her hip, and kept her eyes on the judges for her first set of poses and pivots. And then she moved toward the other side of the stage, where Jonathan was sitting. He sat on the very edge of his seat, staring intently with his lips slightly parted, and the moment Felicity locked eyes with him, a delicious heat suffused her. She forbade herself to blush—even the slightest pink tinge would be obvious on the exposed, milk-white canvas of her skin. Even when she forced herself to break eye contact and turn around, she could still feel his gaze hot on her back. She spun once more, gave him a final dazzling smile, and walked offstage, breathless.

  “You looked great out there,” Haylie whispered as she got in line for the full-group walk. “Way to flirt with the audience!” Felicity felt the blush she’d been holding back rush to her cheeks, and she was grateful no one could see it in the dark.

  During the full-group walk, Felicity caught her mom’s eye and saw that Ginger was teary with joy—so far, everything was going just as she had hoped. Felicity felt sick as she pictured what her mom’s expression would look like when “Cookie-Cutter Girl” started blasting through the auditorium. But the judges would probably love her edgy new tap routine, and if she scored well, Ginger would have to forgive her subversion. Maybe she’d even respect Felicity for taking charge.

  The thought buoyed her, and Felicity felt strong as she changed into her tap costume. She looked forward to being out there on the stage, showing off who she really was for the very first time. After she did some quick warm-ups in the hall, she found Ivy, and together they went upstairs to watch Haylie’s talent routine.

  Felicity and Ivy both hugged her for luck, and then Haylie ran out onstage in her red toe shoes, gave the crowd an enthusiastic wave, and struck her opening pose. When her music began, Haylie was transformed. Felicity had watched her friend dance countless times, and she had never doubted that Haylie was talented. But today’s performance went far beyond anything Felicity had ever seen. Haylie seemed to feel the music down to her core, and emotion radiated from her tiny body all the way to the back row. When she jumped, hair flying and legs stretched to their full extension, she embodied reckless abandon and precise control all at once.

  When the routine ended, the audience leapt to its feet. Haylie took a gracious bow and ran offstage. “Was it good?” she asked, her face glowing. “It felt really good.”

  “Are you kidding? It was amazing!” Felicity said. “I’ve never seen you dance like that.”

  “You’ve got this in the bag, Hays,” Ivy agreed.

  A volunteer rushed out onstage to reset the microphone, and then Cassie hurried by them, the lights glinting off her windswept cloud of hair. “What’s she doing for her talent?” Felicity whispered.

  “I’d like to share with you a poem I wrote,” Cassie said, as if in response. “It’s called ‘Diva Power.’ ”

  Ivy’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to hear this.”

  Cassie cleared her throat and began her recitation.

  “Yeah, I’m a diva,

  don’t try to pretend like I’m not.

  You might not like my sassy attitude,

  but you definitely think I’m hot.

  “Yeah, I know I look good,

  my makeup takes me an hour.

  But that doesn’t mean I’m not tough and badass;

  I am totally about girl power.”

  Felicity turned to give Ivy an incredulous look and saw that her friend was doubled over, both hands clapped over her mouth as she giggled uncontrollably. The sight of her nearly undid Felicity as well, but she bit her tongue hard and tried to keep herself in check. Cassie continued reciting, a strange swagger creeping into her voice.

  “Yeah, I’ve got mad skills, too.

  You’ll see what I mean.

  When you see me strut my stuff,

  with jealousy you will turn green.

  “Yeah, I’m the greatest one here.

  I won’t go off on a tangent,

  but I’m gonna crush my competition

  and win this pa-pa-pageant.”

  The audience was deathly silent for a minute, unsure whether Cassie was finished. Finally, she said, “Thank you,” which triggered tentative applause. Cassie strode offstage, looking pleased with herself. Much to Felicity’s relief, she headed straight to the dressing room without stopping to chat.

  Ariel appeared in the doorway, decked out in a plaid skirt and argyle knee socks, and waited in the wings for the volunteer to remove the microphone. She was clutching her swords so tightly her knuckles were white. When Felicity walked over and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she jumped as if she’d been zapped with a Taser.

  “You’re going to do great,” Felicity whispered.

  “Go, Ariel,” Brenda told her. “You’re on deck, Felicity.”

  The sword dance flew by in a flash, and before Felicity knew it, Brenda was saying, “Any time you’re ready, honey.” Then Haylie was squeezing her hand, and Ivy was massaging her shoulders as if she were a boxer. Felicity stood at the edge of the wings with her eyes closed, breathing deeply and centering herself. You can do this, she thought. You are going to rock those judges’ worlds.

  Her eyes flew open when Brenda gasped behind her. “Felicity, what did you do to your beautiful costume?”

  It was time to go.

  Before Brenda could grab her, Felicity ran out onto the stage. She smiled at the judges, then struck her first pose.

  The opening chords of “Cookie-Cutter Girl” crashed through the speakers. And as Felicity danced to the song she loved, the rest of the world fell away, and all that mattered was the music pulsing through her body and the staccato rhythms of her feet on the floor. She flew over the stage, knowing every step was right, and she finally felt as if she were exactly where she was supposed to be. She didn’t even have to try to smile.

  When the Sharks in Heaven song ended, the swell of applause pulled her back down to earth. There was no full-crowd standing ovation, but Felicity was pleased to see that many people were on their feet. Jonathan was one of them, a goofy grin plastered on his face. She smiled back in a way that she hoped said, That was for you. “Go, Lissy!” her brothers shrieked over and over, and she looked right at them as she took her bow. She glanced at the judges and tried to gauge their reactions, but their faces were unreadable as they scribbled in their notepads.

  Finally, when she couldn’t avoid it any longer, she forced herself to look at her mom.

  She had expected to see anger and confusion, but she wasn’t prepared for the look of pure devastation she saw. Ginger sat perfectly still as the crowd clapped and cheered around her, both hands pressed to her chest as if her heart were in danger of falling out. Her eyes were huge and uncomprehending, like a dog who had just been kicked by its loving owner.

  It’s just a song, Felicity wanted to tell her. Don’t take it personally—I rejected Ella-Mae Finch, not you. And didn’t you see how much better I danced when I was actually proud of what I was doing? Can’t you tell how much everyone liked it?

  But she couldn’t say any of that. Her three minutes were up, and it was time to get off the stage. Felicity turned and walked away, wondering how it was possible to feel defiant, proud, relieved, and heartbroken all at the same time.

  Haylie embraced her the moment she was in the wings. “You were fabulous,” she whispered. “I couldn’t believe how fast your feet were going. How’d you get your mom to agree to that awesome new music? She was so set on that stupid jazz song.”

  “She didn’t know. I went in the booth and swapped the CDs this morning. I just couldn’t go through with the other song. It was just so … not me.” Haylie’s eyes widened, and all the excitement drained from her face. “Hays, what’s the matter? Are you okay?”

  “You didn’t g
et it approved?” Even at a whisper, Haylie’s voice was laden with anxiety.

  “No. I know my mom’s probably going to throw a fit about it later, but it’s just a song, so I’m hoping she’ll get over it when—”

  “Felicity, didn’t you read the pageant rule book? You’re not allowed to change anything about your routine after the last rehearsal unless you get it approved by the pageant committee.”

  Felicity’s blood turned to ice. Her mom’s dire expression suddenly made sense. It wasn’t just a song; it was a punishable offense. The pageant rule book was Ginger’s bible, and she knew exactly how much trouble her daughter was in.

  “What are they going to do to me? Will they dock points?”

  “Maybe, but … Felicity, they could vote to disqualify you.”

  As if from a very great distance, Felicity heard Ivy start playing “You’re a Grand Old Flag” on the kazoo.

  And that was the last thing she heard before she fled.

  18

  SATURDAY, MAY 29

  Felicity sat on the bathroom floor, her back against the locked door and her tearstained face buried in her hands. Her mascara was rubbing off all over the place, but it didn’t matter now. It was hard to believe she’d been in here less than two hours ago, blacking out the jewels on her jacket and feeling optimistic.

  If she really was disqualified, she had just traded a lifetime of pursuing her dreams for three minutes of defiant individuality. Maybe there was a reason she had spent her whole life letting other people tell her what to do, how to look, and who to be. She clearly couldn’t be trusted to make good decisions for herself.

  Haylie had been knocking on the door unrelentingly for the past five minutes. “Come on, Felicity, let us in,” she called for the thousandth time. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t cry now. You’ll have to totally redo your eye makeup.”

  “Too late,” Felicity called back. Her voice sounded wet and choked, as if she had a goldfish in her throat.

  “Then let me in so I can help you. We’ve got twenty minutes. But you have to stop crying now, or you’ll look all red and puffy.”

  Felicity grabbed a wad of toilet paper and blew her nose. She wanted to spend the rest of the day locked in this bathroom, where she couldn’t make any more stupid mistakes. But Gabby was in the audience, watching her every move and waiting for her to slip up. If Felicity didn’t stand up on that stage and take her enemy down today, she might never get another chance. Maybe the mayor could even convince the pageant judges to go easy on her in exchange for the juicy information about the salon. Maybe it wasn’t too late to redeem herself.

  She stood up and unlocked the door.

  Haylie and Ivy pushed inside carrying Felicity’s makeup bag, shoes, and gown. “Wash your face,” Haylie ordered, shoving a towel and a tube of face wash into her hands.

  Felicity took them—there was no resisting tough-love Haylie. “Sorry I didn’t get to see your talent,” she told Ivy. “I totally freaked out up there.”

  “It’s fine. You really didn’t miss much. But I’m happy to play you a medley of patriotic tunes on the kazoo while walking on my hands any time, if you feel deprived.”

  “I should have been there to support you, though. I’m screwing everything up.” A fresh flood of tears threatened to spill over, and Haylie pointed sternly at the sink.

  “If you don’t wash your face, I’m going to have to do it for you,” she said.

  Felicity obediently scrubbed off her makeup, then sat slumped on the closed toilet lid as Haylie applied a new layer of foundation. “This is hardly even worth it now,” she complained. “You guys should just go get yourselves ready. At least you’re still in the running.”

  “It’ll take me two minutes to get dressed,” Haylie said. “Keep your eyes closed. Besides, it is worth it. They might not disqualify you. And if all they do is dock points, you have to pull yourself together and rock the interview section. Which is fine, ’cause you’re great at this part. You never get tongue-tied or say stupid stuff.”

  “God, what do you think Cassie will say?” mused Ivy. “Do you think she’ll go off on a tangent? ’Cause then she’ll never win this pa-pa-pageant.” Felicity smiled despite herself.

  Haylie expertly blended Felicity’s eye shadow with quick, gentle strokes. “It would be worth it even if you were disqualified. We’re all in this together, remember? We’ve got your back, even when you mess up. No, don’t you dare cry again.”

  Felicity sniffled, then laughed. “Okay. Thanks.”

  By the time she was fully made up and dressed, it was impossible to tell she had ever been crying. “There,” Haylie said, pleased with her handiwork. She gripped Felicity firmly by the shoulders. “Now, you’re going to go out there and finish this thing with your head held high, like nothing ever happened, okay? The judges want to see confidence and composure, and that’s what you’re going to show them. Right?”

  Felicity nodded, feeling a little stronger. “Right.”

  “And you look bitchin’,” Ivy chimed in. “You have the best dress out of everyone. No offense, Haylie.”

  Felicity laughed. “Did you seriously just say ‘bitchin’ ’?”

  “Seven minutes!” shouted Brenda from the other side of the bathroom door.

  “We have to go get ready.” Haylie grabbed Ivy and dragged her out of the bathroom.

  “That’s right,” Ivy called over her shoulder. “Bitchin’.”

  Felicity glided through the evening-wear portion in a daze. She beamed at the judges as she floated around the stage in her perfect gown, but Gabby was the only thing on her mind. She might have lost the Miss Scarlet prize money, but in five minutes she would have an even better reward: her secret would be safe.

  When the girls formed a semicircle around the microphone for the interview portion, Felicity’s heart began to pound so hard she feared it might climb up her throat and fly out of her mouth. Haylie went first, chic and glittering in her backless gown. She was eloquent and composed as she answered a question about the role of social networking in society. Cassie’s question dealt with whether the pageant’s swimsuit competition was becoming archaic, and she stumbled through a disjointed response, obviously unclear on the meaning of the pivotal adjective. Ariel gave a heartfelt speech about how her older sister was the most influential person in her life.

  And then it was Felicity’s turn.

  She stepped up to the microphone. Donna Marie opened envelope number four and smiled at her, blissfully unaware that the question she held was a fake. “Felicity, Scarletville was founded as a sanctuary for redheads. How do you think having non-redheads living in our town enriches or detracts from our community?”

  Felicity met Gabby’s expectant eyes, and suddenly, she wasn’t afraid. This ends now, she thought. But just as she was about to speak, she heard a little voice yell, “Go, Felicity!”

  On the far left side of the auditorium, Felicity spotted tiny Katie Vaughn, who was being violently shushed by everyone around her. She was wearing a brilliant red party dress and bouncing up and down in her seat. Gabby’s two middle sisters sat on her right, and Rose was on her left. All four pairs of chocolate-brown eyes shone with admiration as they looked up at Felicity. The Vaughns were rooting for her, and here she was, about to destroy them.

  Felicity felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach, and her breath caught in her throat. She closed her eyes and struggled to regain the impassive determination she’d felt just a moment before. She concentrated on how much she hated Gabby, how horrible it had felt to be manipulated, and she opened her mouth and tried again to speak.

  But it was no use. She couldn’t go through with it.

  Gabby had no qualms about ruining an innocent life to better her own chances. But Felicity wasn’t like her, and she couldn’t stoop to that level. No matter how furious she was, it just wasn’t in her to take someone else down so that she could keep standing.

  She opened her eyes and looked at Jonathan, who
respected her for being herself. She looked at Ms. Kellogg, who had told her there were places in the world where strawberry-blond wasn’t less than red. And she realized there was another way to end this.

  She gripped the microphone tightly.

  “I think it’s incredibly important to have people with other hair colors in Scarletville,” she said, speaking the words Gabby had written. “It’s small-minded and irresponsible to have a community that’s entirely made up of one type of person. That kind of environment promotes intolerance and stereotyping.”

  Gabby’s lips curled into a smile—everything was going according to her plan.

  And then Felicity deviated from the script.

  “People in this town are terrified no one will respect them if they don’t have red hair, that no one will even see them. And I know that firsthand, because I’ve had those same fears my whole life.”

  Gabby’s smile faltered, and Felicity stared right into her adversary’s eyes as she said the words she had been holding back for seventeen years.

  “I’m a strawbie,” she said. “My hair is dyed, and it has been since I was two years old. My mom knew I wouldn’t have the opportunities I deserved unless I altered the way I looked. Every single day, I’ve lived in fear that someone would find out what I really was. And when someone did discover my secret, I let her blackmail me. I lied to my best friends for her. I lied to my boyfriend, and I lost him because of it. I did everything she told me to do because I was so afraid she’d expose me and I’d lose everything I had. But I hurt people I loved to protect my secret, and it wasn’t worth it. It’s just hair.” She grabbed a handful of perfect coppery curls and held them up for everyone to see. “This is not who I am, and I’m done hiding behind it.”

  Felicity turned back to Donna Marie, whose mouth was hanging open. “That’s all I have to say,” she finished. And then she turned around and got back in line.