Chapter 8
EIGHT
As the judges went back to their spot in the corner and the staff began preparing for Savilla’s bonding brainchild, Lacy told us to get into groups of three and four.
A frantic sort of energy hummed. It was obvious that many of these contestants had already been assessing alliances.
I assumed everyone would want to be with Savilla, but before anyone else had the chance, she pulled me into a tight cohort with her, Jemma, and Summer.
Relief at being included in their little circle of frivolity washed over me—not that I would choose to be there, but when at The Rose…
I kept my face in what I hoped was an open and welcoming expression.
“Along the walls are stations stocked with flowers and feathers and ribbons,” Lacy informed us. “You’ll have everything you need to make a floral headpiece that you and your team will model for the judges in a half-hour.”
A headpiece? The first thing that came to mind was Halloween at seven years old when Aunt DeeDee had dressed me as a daisy, my face in the center surrounded by huge white petals bursting out of my head and my body covered in green spandex.
Momma had got home from work at the last second, shocked.
Still, she hadn’t contradicted Aunt DeeDee’s declaration that I was the cutest thing since spring chicks.
After the fifth house at which I refused to lift my head and let anyone see my face, they finally took pity and let me run home and change into the cowgirl hat, chaps, and red boots I adored.
Surely that was not the kind of headpiece they had in mind.
“This may seem easy for those who are crafty and love to dress for all kinds of occasions, but here’s the twist…” Lacy paused for dramatic effect. “Let’s see what you can do while blindfolded.”
Giggles issued from the women even as a competitive edge, almost as tangible as a knife’s blade, inserted itself into the room. These women reminded me of mute swans: gorgeous creatures that will peck you bloody if you step foot in their territory.
“The staff will come around with bandanas, and all but one person in each group should blindfold themselves. No peeking.” Lacy playfully waved a finger in the air.
Some kind of pageant professional had temporarily taken residence in my friend’s body.
“Whoever isn’t wearing the bandana will be the instruction-giver, and the other team members can’t make a move without your say-so. ”
“You’ll be our eyes,” Savilla told me as she took the cloth and tied it around her own head.
“No, really.” I tried a smile even as panic bubbled to the surface and the bandana lady moved on to the next group. “I have no idea what a headdress should look like.”
“It’s a headpiece,” Summer gently corrected.
“Exactly. I don’t even know what it’s called.” I glanced at the rows of ribbons and fluff that a staff member was setting on a table near us.
“You’ll be great,” Jemma huffed, her words sarcastic.
Summer kept grinning, and I wondered if her cheeks ever ached.
It was too late to protest. Within a minute, we were standing in front of our craft station.
“On your marks. Get set. Go!” Lacy shouted from the front as she clicked an oversized timer on the podium.
Suddenly, I was blurting out instructions to Savilla, Jemma, and Summer.
Grab the flower. No, the other one. Pick up the glue. That’s the glitter bottle!
I had no idea what I was doing as I tried to guide these three women to construct something that resembled a floral arrangement for someone to wear atop their head. It was giving Queen Charlotte in Bridgerton, and I wondered over and over why this was still a thing.
I stumbled over my words and wiped sweaty palms against my jeans.
As my team felt around the table, Summer laughed as if this were great fun while Jemma and Savilla worked so well together that I wondered if they could actually see what they were doing.
Meanwhile, I practically shouted at them to add more… Feathers! Glitter! Gauzy stuff!
Minutes crawled past until Lacy called time and everyone removed their blindfolds.
Behold what I hath wrought, I wanted to proclaim. It was a haphazard mess of blue silk roses covered in bright green glitter and neon pink sequins, black and pink feathers jutting out at all angles.
“It kind of looks like a bird’s nest,” Summer said, tilting her head and trying to see the good.
“More like a glitter sparkle bird that exploded,” Jemma clarified.
I followed Savilla’s eyes around the room to the other teams and the headpieces they’d created. Each was tasteful; some were downright gorgeous, like something you’d see on the cover of a bridal magazine.
“They cheated, of course,” Savilla said, waving away the other designs. “It’s fine. The important thing is that we bonded. Right, ladies?”
Summer nodded, happy to be there. Jemma rolled her eyes.
“In just a moment I’d like to invite the team member who wasn’t blindfolded to the front to model your group’s unique fashion piece.
And remember, ladies…” Lacy’s eyes darted to me.
“Our three judges are watching! The centennial is a special contest this year, and the Four Cs are the pillars of this pageant.”
Lacy held up one finger at a time as voices swelled in the room.
“Confidence!”
“Comportment!”
“Conversation!”
Lacy held up three fingers and spoke before the crowd could name the final C.
“We all know the last C is ‘costumes’, and now you have these fabulous headpieces to show off as part of your attire. So, without delay, I’d like to invite our models to the stage to show off your teams’ designs,” she exclaimed.
Enthusiastic applause swept across the ballroom.
I tried to keep my voice low as I pleaded with my group. “I can’t go up there.”
What I didn’t add was this: People—complete strangers—would be looking at me. Only me. And I wouldn’t be doing anything worthwhile like barrel racing or even cantering. I’d be standing there, wearing a monstrosity. Oh God. My tongue was parched, and a tickle had begun on the back of my tongue.
“But ours looks so good,” Jemma said, pouting her lips like she actually believed the lie.
“You’re fine.” Savilla gave me an encouraging push forward. “You better get used to it if you want first place.”
“No, really,” I nearly cried, my hands growing clammy. “I just couldn’t possibly…” I turned toward Summer. “Please. Would you do the honors?”
“You’ll be perfect,” Summer told me, the words so lilting and musical that I would’ve believed her if my cheeks weren’t already hot. “And anyway, now you have a hat—kind of.”
Savilla plopped the creation on top of my head and pushed me toward the stage. Somehow my legs carried me. I swallowed back my fear. All I needed to do was walk across the stage. It would be good practice for the real deal in three days’ time.
I waited in line, watching women glide down the runway. They were poised and beautiful and graceful while I was… something else.
When Lacy called my name, I could sense apprehension in her tone.
I reminded myself that I needed to do my duty for Momma, for my future, for the money, and even for the one or two allies I’d already made.
I held my head high, put one foot in front of the other, and fixed my eyes on a point at the back door, my only means of escape.
This was almost over, and I hadn’t yet tripped or collapsed or humiliated myself.
As I reached the end of the stage, a familiar figure slipped into the ballroom: Glenda Finch, blanched white, her eyes as round as saucers and her mouth downturned.
She looked in my direction but she didn’t really see me this time, as if a hazy veil had been lowered across her brow.
No one else seemed to notice her presence, but her cloudy expression concerned me.
When I stopped midstride, everyone’s eyes followed mine to where she stood. Savilla’s stepmother and wife to the owner of the Rose Palace Pageant walked into the center of the room, issued a small cry, and fainted dead away.
Savilla rushed to kneel beside her as I spotted a disheveled Aunt DeeDee hurrying into the ballroom, followed by Sheriff Strong. The expressions on both of their faces told me that something was very wrong.
The arrangement on my head fell and splattered onto the stage.