Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
“I found that shopping was often the best medicine.”
—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,
Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes
The first official pageant practice was held the last Saturday in July at the high school. They herded us all into the auditorium. Kind of like cows to slaughter. Maybe it just felt like that to me, though.
“This place is bringing back memories,” Abe said. Along with Hallie, we were sitting in the back.
“Me, too.”
“We’d get sent here if we tried to get in class after the tardy bell. Had to stay the entire class period and write out sentences. ‘I will not be late to class.’”
“Dad,” Hallie said. “Where you a bad kid?”
“Not bad… just misunderstood.” He gazed around the room thoughtfully. “To be honest, I might have spent more time in here than in class. I carved my name on the back of one of these seats.”
“How ever did you graduate?”
He shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“Iris, do you think we’ll get to stay together?” Hallie asked, concerned. She’d been talking non-stop about this, waffling between anxiety and anticipation. This experience better be a good one for her or I was going to hurt someone.
“I’m not sure. But if we aren’t, it will be okay. We can do this, right?” I held out my fist.
She bumped it with hers. “Girl power.”
Abe leaned closer. “Thanks again for doing this.”
“Feel free to show your appreciation in other ways. For instance, I will take chocolate in any of its forms.”
With a grin, he pulled one of those chocolate kisses from his shirt pocket. He held it out to me. “For you.”
“Flirt.” But I stuffed the chocolate in my mouth.
He chuckled and patted the pocket of his t-shirt. “I always come prepared.”
After a big, inspirational meeting which included singing the Founder’s Day song, reciting the town motto, and being lectured about what a great honor it was to be a pageant participant, all the age level directors were introduced, and then we were split up by age.
Hallie’s face paled when she realized we’d be separated.
She wrapped trembling arms around my neck and hung on.
“I know this is hard, Hal. I’m kind of scared, too.
How about I’ll give you some of my brave parts and you give me some of your brave parts and then we’ll have a little piece of each other. ”
“Okay,” she whispered.
I walked her over to her age group. Megan Tillman was there, as director of this age level.
“Hallie, Iris, so glad to see you both participating,” she said, all fake smile and insincerity. “Hallie, go get in line, please.”
A nervous Hallie slowly walked to the end of the line. I stepped closer to Megan, uncomfortably close. Her perfume made my nose itch. “Do you remember that time I punched you in the face in high school?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Well, I’m bigger and meaner now. Remember that and make sure Hallie has a great time.”
She gasped. “Did you just threaten me?”
“Excuse me? Of course not. What I did was promise you. There’s a difference.” I winked and went to catch up with Abe.
“That woman is trying to kill you with her eyes,” he said. “Why’s that?”
“Maybe she’s having a bad day,” I said innocently.
He made a sound of disbelief as I left to join my group. For the record, I wouldn’t actually hit her. Probably.
My group ended up in one of the science classrooms. I’d had biology in this very room. The room still smelled the same—rotten eggs and the tears of teenagers.
All nineteen of us sat at two-person lab tables perched on uncomfortable metal stools.
I sat in the very last row; no one sat next to me.
Again, I’d missed the dress code announcement.
While the others wore summer dresses or business casual slacks and full makeup and hair, I wore a t-shirt, jeans, and a ballcap to hide the fact I hadn’t showered today.
“Ladies, let’s quiet down so we can get started,” said a slim woman with dark hair and unnaturally large lips.
She could have been nineteen or fifty-two.
She introduced herself as Casey Myers, the director of our program.
“I have a PowerPoint presentation for us to get through. It would be a good idea to take notes.”
Everyone else pulled out notebooks and pens; a couple had laptops they quickly opened. Another announcement I missed? Was there a group chat I was not a part of? From my back pocket, I pulled out my phone and opened the notes app.
Casey was not what I would call riveting.
Neither was any of the information she was talking about.
I tried taking notes but it was just so boring.
Surely she’d send us all an email with this information.
To make matters worse, there was a blonde woman in the front who kept interrupting to ask questions.
The desire to throw a paper airplane at her head was strong. If only I had brought a notebook…
With nothing else to keep me occupied, I checked my email and found one from Aidan.
It was short, a quick hello. Attached was a photo of Missy and him on a beach somewhere in Costa Rica.
Both wore beaming smiles and a sort of glow.
I guess that happened when you found your person.
The twinge of jealousy surprised me. Not because I wanted Aidan. No, I wanted that glow.
With a sigh, I opened my photos and went to the new private folder I’d created.
The first picture was from the night of the Shady Cove dance.
Abe, Hallie, and I were all together and smiling.
Sometimes I imagined we were a happy little family in that photo.
I knew that was a dangerous thing to do but I was helpless to stop.
The second photo Mom must have taken without us realizing.
Hallie’s hair bow had been falling out so I was fixing it.
Someone must have said something funny, because I was wearing a huge grin.
But the part that got me every single time was Abe.
He’d been standing behind us and to the side so that the camera snapped a photo of his face.
His crooked smile, hands tucked in his pockets.
But his eyes… they were focused on me, soft and full of something else, a longing.
Even though I’d seen that photo no less than seven hundred times, it never failed to make my heart race with anticipation. I wanted to know exactly what he was thinking at that moment.
Teenager Me would have written so much tragic emo poetry about this.
Somewhere around PowerPoint slide number forty, the door at the front of the room creaked open and a short, round woman slid into the room.
Her head down, she crept along the edge of the classroom, obviously trying to make as little noise as she could.
Unfortunately, she didn’t see the bag someone had set on the floor.
She tripped, yelped, and fell onto the counter that ran along that wall.
In doing so, she shoved a large glass jar.
It teetered on the edge of the counter. She grabbed it the second before it would have fallen.
Stools scraped as everyone turned to see the fuss. The room lights flipped on.
“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry.” The woman straightened from the counter, clutching the huge jar. It reminded me of my jar of pickles. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“Thank you for joining us. Please remember to be on time.” With a sniff, Casey glared at the poor woman as she scrambled to find a seat. The room went dark again, and the presentation picked up where it left off. Unfortunately.
“Is this…?” She nodded toward the seat next to me.
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you.” She heaved an oversized purse on the table and set the jar she was still carrying next to it. It took her a couple of tries to get up on the stool since she was all of five feet tall. “Did I miss anything?”
“I wasn’t really paying attention. So, no?”
She giggled. Someone in front of us turned and hissed. “Sorry.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I’m Yessica.”
“Iris.”
Yessica rummaged through her bag, muttering to herself, and pulled out a notebook, as well as a pen with a giant green feather duct taped to the top of it. She made enough noise that the woman in front of us turned around again to shush her.
Yessica rolled her eyes and dumped her bag at her feet in a move so delightfully passive-aggressive, I had to fake a cough to cover up my laugh.
The woman turned around and glared at Yessica.
“So sorry,” Yessica whisper-yelled, smiling sweetly. After the woman turned back, Yessica leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “Bet she’s fun at parties.”
After shoving the jar to the middle of the table, she began scribbling in her notebook. It was then I noticed what was in the jar.
“Are those dead frogs?”