Beauty Queens Part 4

My favorite novel is Orlando, by Virginia Woolf. I've read it four times.*

The Corporation product I couldn't live without is Lady 'Stache Off. It leaves my legs silky smooth for days. Sometimes it gives me a bad rash first, but that's the price of beauty, right?**

I can do all the moves from the video for "You're My Only Girl, Girl" by Boyz Will ? Boyz. But only if you beg.

I believe in mystery and old-school modesty, so I wear a sarong in the bathing suit compet.i.tion.

The thing that scares me most is not being myself.

7Che Guevara, the Argentine Marxist revolutionary who later became a bestselling T-shirt icon.

*Pageant official says I should change this to something more "relatable," like I Love You So Much I Forgot to Have a Real Life. But that book makes me want to yak.

**Pageant official also says not to mention rash.

CHAPTER SIX.

Petra woke before the others and began the search for her overnight case and the necessary medication hidden inside the lining. The tide had delivered a few more of their belongings in the night - random shoes, clothing, beaded headdresses, gloves - and Petra's heart beat with new hope as she moved up the beach toward a skull-shaped rock and its tongue of a jetty where a few colorful garments floated, stopped by the natural barrier.

Silently, she cursed herself for entering the pageant in the first place. It was a foolish, desperate move, and now here she was, stuck on an island with only a week's worth of pills. Once that ran out ... well, she wouldn't think about it. Stay positive. That was the thing.

The salt spray kissed her skin, and Petra thought back to the first time she'd played dress-up when she was eight. Sitting at her mother's makeup table, she'd felt a giddy joy as she'd applied the eye shadow - blue and too heavy - the pink blusher, the powder, and finally, a coat of red lipstick. When Petra had looked at herself in the mirror, she'd felt pretty for the first time, a fairy-tale frog transformed into a princess.

So enamored was Petra of her new self that she didn't hear her mother come up from her art studio in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Her mother's lips were parted slightly, as if she were calculating the answer to a math problem that had been in her head a long time but she had only just come upon the answer. She kissed Petra's cheek and said, "Through playing?"

Petra wasn't through playing, not by a long shot, but she nodded, and her mother helped her wash her face and then treated her to a special moisturizing mask, which was cold and green and made them both giggle.

"Will I be beautiful like you someday?" Petra asked her mother.

"You already are beautiful," her mother answered.

"No. Like you," Petra repeated, and her mother's expression was unreadable.

"I guess we'll have to see."

A bikini-clad Taylor emerged through the skeletal rock's mouth like a beauty from a Loch Lomond8 movie. Watching Taylor, sun-kissed and bronzed and effortless, Petra felt jealous and more than a little out of her league. What was she doing here? What did she hope to prove? That she, Petra West, had just as much right to the Miss Teen Dream crown as all these other girls? That there was beauty in her, too? She could still drop out, she supposed. Give it all up. After all, she'd been in the spotlight before, and while it had been exhilarating in some ways, it had been a nightmare in others. Would she handle it any differently this time? Or would it implode as it had before?

During her mother's chemo, Petra had promised she would go after her dreams. "Life is too short not to be who you are, honey," her mom had told her. She thought of her mom back home in her art studio in Providence, scarred and shorn and still beautiful, full of fierce belief in the rightness of her daughter. And Petra knew she would see it through.

"Good morning!" she called as politely as possible.

"Good morning, Miss Rhode Island. Oh, Miss New Hampshire!" Taylor called out. "How was first watch? Anything to report?"

Adina trudged over sleepily and plopped down onto the sand with a groan. "Yeah. I have five humongous bug bites on my legs and arms, my b.u.t.t crack has been thoroughly exfoliated with sand, I'm hungry, exhausted, and I haven't seen a ship anywhere."

"Don't you have anything positive to say?" Taylor chided.

Adina glared. "There's still a possibility this is all a very bad dream."

"My goodness. Somebody needs to learn resilience. It's a miracle you've gotten this far in the pageant system, Miss New Hampshire. I myself slept just fine."

"Did you see a green overnight case with an Audrey Hepburn decal on top?" Petra asked. She bit nervously at a fingernail, thought better of it, and hid her hands behind her back.

"Nuh-uh. I did see some weird lights up near the volcano, though. Flashes, like signals or something. At least, I thought I did. I don't know. I was really tired."

"Battle fatigue, my daddy calls it," Taylor said with a.s.surance. She rubbed at the stains on her minidress with seawater.

Adina ignored Taylor. With a stick, she wrote This sucks in the sand. "I had this weird feeling that we were being watched last night."

"Watched by what?" Petra asked.

"I don't know. But it gave me the total creeps."

"Sounds like Most Holy Name Academy," Mary Lou said, joining them. Damaged spangles hung from her dress on hair-thin threads like some molting bird. "When those nuns say they have eyes everywhere, they are not kidding. I didn't pee at school for the first two years. I wore a pee pad."

Petra put a hand on Mary Lou's shoulder. "TMI."

"I think we should go check it out," Adina said.

Mary Lou glanced at the great lava wall protecting the heart of the jungle. "You mean go in there?"

"Yes. As a journalist, I am compelled to know the answers."

"As a girl, I am compelled to protect what's left of my manicure," Petra said.

"But what if the rescuers are looking for us there and not here? What if ..." Adina swallowed hard. "What if there's somebody else on this island with us?"

"Somebody with food?" Mary Lou asked weakly.

"Or somebody who wants to make us into food," Adina said.

Mary Lou's eyes widened. "Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

Taylor smoothed the wrinkles from her wet dress and wiped her hands on her knees. "I am team captain. And I say we're doing our pageant prep first, according to plan. Priorities."

"Shouldn't our priorities be food, shelter, and rescue?"

"Miss New Hampshire, I appreciate your concerns. But I am eighteen. This is my last year to compete. I do not intend to lose my edge. Besides, I'm sure the rescue team will be here today. And we want them to find us at our best. Miss Teen Dreamers! Let's get to it!" Taylor clapped in a cheerleader rhythm for attention and began to give the day's structure. Adina cupped a hand over her eyes and squinted in the direction of the volcano. The top disappeared into mist. It seemed una.s.sailable and uninhabitable. She'd probably imagined the lights.

After a breakfast of rationed airline pretzels and four sips each from the rescued water bottles, the girls worked on their opening dance number. Each girl had received a DVD of the dance steps in her prep packet, but they'd never had a chance to rehea.r.s.e it as a unit. That's what this week before the pageant was supposed to be about. Now, without the ch.o.r.eographer, it wasn't coming together smoothly. Somebody would inevitably high-kick when it was time for spirit fingers, the timing was off on the contagion, and the whole thing was such a disaster that Petra p.r.o.nounced it "so dinner theater on Mars." After an hour of work in the hot island sun, Taylor called a break.

Nicole tapped Adina. "Taylor wants you to play Fabio Testosterone9 and ask all the questions."

"Why me?"

Nicole faltered. "Um, I guess because you're smart and good at questions and ..."

"Because you p.i.s.sed her off," Petra said, dabbing self-consciously at the sweat on her upper lip. "Count me out. I already know where to find Iran on a map and I have to look for my overnight bag."

Nicole whistled. "That won't make Taylor happy."

"Tell her I'll keep a watch out for a rescue ship. That I'm taking one for the team."

"Tell her I'm doing that, too," Adina seconded.

"I got there first," Petra said.

Nicole patted Adina's shoulder. "Sorry. Guess you better go round everybody else up, Fabio."

Ten minutes later, the girls lined up as they had in every pageant. It was a relief to know this part. All they had to do was be charming and answer the questions with confidence.

"Remember, don't show fear," Taylor called. Over the firewood, she struck two rocks together, trying to catch a spark. "Judges are like dogs: They'll smell it. If you don't know the answer, answer it like you do anyway."

"Can I get started?" Adina snapped. The heat was making her bug bites itch and she hadn't had a decent meal since yesterday. "Our first contestant is Brittani Sloc.u.m, Miss Mississippi."

"I'm Miss Alabama," Brittani corrected.

At the end of the line, Tiara raised her hand. "I'm Miss Mississippi."

Adina looked from one tan, blond southern G.o.ddess to the other. They both c.o.c.ked their heads to the left and smiled in a practiced, patient way.

"Whatever," Adina grumbled. "So, Miss Alabama, Tiara -"

"Brittani!"

"Brittani Sloc.u.m. First question. The pageant has come under fire for perpetuating an unrealistic image of superthin girls as beautiful, and many people feel this is harmful to girls' self-esteem. What do you say to these critics? And what do you personally feel about these narrow standards of beauty?"

Brittani's smile remained Vaseline smooth, but her eyes showed fear. "Um, what does perpetuate mean?"

"Keep something going."

"Keep what going?"

"No, perpetuate means to keep something going." Like I am perpetuating your stupidity, Adina thought.

"Oh. Um, well, I would say that being skinny and stuff is good because you can, like, fit into supercute jeans, unlike my friend Lisa? She totally ballooned up to a size six and none of her pants fit, and she had, like, three-hundred-dollar Sandeces10 jeans!"

In the line, several girls gasped.

"Seriously! And she got all depressed and stuff? And she wouldn't come out of her room or do cheerleading anymore because her uniform wasn't fitting right and her parents had to do, like, a li'l benefit concert to raise the money to send her to fat camp, and when she came back from fat camp, she was super, super angry and started piercing things. She took a nail gun and nailed all her old Barbies to the wall in a cross pattern just like little Barbie Jesuses. It was so, so freaky. And we had, like, nothing in common anymore, and before she got fat we used to go shopping every weekend and watch all our favorite Corporation shows. It was super, super tragic, and so, like, I know the pain of this because I lost my best friend in the whole world over it and stuff, so, yeah, it's bad and, um, what was the question again?"

Adina stared, openmouthed. "I have no idea."

"My turn!" Miss Ohio walked the makeshift runway. She stopped beside Adina, her body turned in a perfect three-quarter pose, which her handler said made her look thinner. She gave Adina a flirtatious, fingertips-only wave.

"What was that about?"

"It's my flirty wave so I can get Fabio's attention and we can establish a joking patter and maybe end up as a clip on ViralVideo. See, you have to do something to stand out. I'm going to be the naughty one."

"The naughty ones don't win Miss Teen Dream," Taylor called. She'd started a small fire. Now she fanned the flames by performing military dance exercises.

"I don't need to win. I just need to get noticed. So for now, I'm pretending you're Fabio Testosterone." Miss Ohio waved again and winked.

"Well, I'm not, so don't." Adina slapped at a mosquito on her arm. "Miss Ohio, what are your life goals?"

Chin held high, Miss Ohio beamed at an imagined crowd. "I want to be a motivational speaker."

"What are you going to motivate people to do?"

Smile still in place, she cut her eyes at Adina. "You know. Motivational ... stuff."

"Well, are you going to motivate people to bring peace to war-torn nations, or are you going to motivate people to join a cult and drink the Kool-Aid?"

"The first one."

Adina sighed. "Nice. You might want to take the gum out of your mouth next time."

The sun was hot. It burned holes in the fog cover and wilted the girls' spirits. Periodically, they scanned the horizon for signs of a ship or plane, but there was nothing but those same darkening clouds in the distance. Only Taylor seemed unbothered by the heat, the bugs, the fear.

"Again!" she called from her perch on the rock as the girls marched forward one by one addressing an imaginary audience: "I'm from Ohio, birthplace of seven U.S. presidents, and I hope you elect me to be your next Miss Teen Dream!"

"h.e.l.lo from New Mexico, Land of Enchantment. We're the forty-seventh state, but I want to be number one in your hearts tonight!"

"Hi. I'm from Arkansas, the cantaloupe state. And tonight, I hope you will hold my melons close to your heart and vote me your Miss Teen Dream."

Adina c.o.c.ked her head. "Umm ..."

"What?"

"Nothing. Miss Colorado?"

"Oh. Sorry!" Nicole sprinted to the sandy runway and walked it carefully, making sure to wave to the crowd with her elbows against her sides as she'd been taught. That way you didn't get jiggle. She took her place beside Adina, towering over her, all legs.

"h.e.l.lo. I am Nicole Ade from the heart of the Rockies, the great state of Colorado!" She beamed.

Adina slapped a fly on her cheek. She missed the fly, but now her cheek stung. "Miss Colorado, how do you feel about being the only African-American girl in the pageant?"

"What do you mean?" Nicole shifted on her legs like a flightless bird.

"You're the only black contestant out of fifty states."

"It's ... it's an honor to represent the great state of Colorado."