Part 9 (1/2)

”Okay,” I replied.

I stood at the entrance to Claire and Margo's room. I swear, I thought an earthquake had hit. Hair ribbons and shoes and socks and barrettes and rubber bands were everywhere. The girls were trying to rehea.r.s.e in the middle of the mess. The only good thought that came to mind was that, by the afternoon, the pageant would be over.

”What is going on?!” I exclaimed.

Claire and Margo ran to me.

”Oh, you're here!” cried Claire.

”Mommy said to get all our stuff together,” Margo tried to explain. ”And we were nervous. And we didn't want to forget anything, and . . .”

It took almost an hour, but Mrs. Pike and I managed to get the girls organized. First we dressed them in jeans and T-s.h.i.+rts for all the pre-pageant stuff. Then we laid out their outfits separately and put each one in its own bag - except for the dresses, which we placed on hangers to try to keep them neat.

”What else do we need?” asked Mrs. Pike, looking around.

”Curling iron!” I said.

We remembered a few more items, put them in yet another bag, and were on our way to the high school. Mrs. Pike drove us. As we traveled through town I kept saying things like, ”Remember to smile - all the time,” ”Remember to give nice answers to the questions,” and ”Don't worry if you forget your lines while you're performing. Just start over again or make something up. That's the professional thing to do.”

Mrs. Pike dropped us off in front of the high school with her own set of reminders for the girls. She and the rest of the Pikes wouldn't see Claire and Margo again until the show started.

”We'll sit as close to the front as we can!” Mrs. Pike called as she pulled into the street.

The girls and I struggled into the high school building with our bags. Someone showed us to the auditorium, and we walked through a doorway labeled Stage Door.

Chaos. Pure chaos.

There were going to be fifteen contestants in the pageant, and most of them seemed to have arrived already. Backstage was a sea of little girls waiting to be told what to do. Some were rehearsing, some were checking their wardrobes, some were patiently having their hair curled or braided or brushed.

Claire and Margo immediately panicked.

”Look at that girl!” exclaimed Margo in a loud whisper. ”She's wearing nail polish. Dawn.”

”That girl has makeup on!” Claire added, not even bothering to whisper.

”Hey, there's Myriah,” said Margo. She pointed across the room. ”Look. She's tap dancing. And she's good! I mean, she's really goo - Oh, no! Oh, no, Dawn! Oh, no!”

”What! What?” I cried.

”Did you remember my banana?”

”Yes, It's in the bag with your painter's pants. Now will you two please calm d - ”I stopped when someone tapped me on the shoulder. ”Yes?” I said, turning around.

Behind me stood a stout woman with iron-gray hair piled high on her head. She was holding a clipboard. ”h.e.l.lo,” she said warmly. ”I'm Patricia Bunting, the pageant coordinator.”

”Hi,” I replied, shaking her hand. ”I'm Dawn. This is Claire Pike and this is Margo Pike.”

”Wonderful,” said Ms. Bunting. She handed me a list. ”Here's the order in which the contestants will appear onstage in each portion of the show. The order - youngest to oldest - will remain the same, so be sure Claire and Margo know whom to follow. As soon as everyone has arrived, I'll talk to the contestants. I'll explain how the pageant will run, and then I'll show them the stage. Mothers and big sisters will wait right over there,” she went on, indicating an area in which folding chairs had been set up.

Claire and Margo looked at me, and we smiled. Ms. Bunting thought I was their sister!

Ms. Bunting walked away, and I sat the girls down so we could study the list together. ”Let's see,” I said. ”Claire, you're near the beginning. You'll always go on stage right after Myriah. And Margo, you're sort of near the middle. You'll always go on right after Sabrina Bouvier.”

”Right after who?” exclaimed Margo.

”Shh,” I said. ”A girl named Sabrina Bouvier.”

Margo looked frantically around the backstage area. Her eyes traveled over Myriah, Charlotte, Karen, and several other contestants, and landed on the girl who was wearing the makeup (and plenty of it, I might add).

”That's her,” said Margo fiercely. ”I just bet that's her. Who else would have a name like Sabrina Bouvier?”

I didn't have an answer to that. Besides, I was trying to size up Claire and Margo's compet.i.tion. There was Myriah, tapping away as Mary Anne watched her. Mary Anne looked exhausted but approving. No doubt about it, Myriah really was good. Her talent was true talent, not just some little act thrown together for the pageant. And there was Karen, looking awfully pretty. Kristy was nervously brus.h.i.+ng her hair. And there was Charlotte, simply looking scared to death. She and Claudia were standing around awkwardly, almost as if they didn't even want to be there.

I caught Claudia's eye and we waved.

The girls waved to Charlotte and then ran over to her.

I followed them. ”Hi,” I said to Claud. ”How are you doing?”

”Nervous. I'll be glad when this is over. It was a bigger deal than I thought it would be. How about you?”

”I'm a little nervous.”

”I'm a lot nervous,” I heard Margo tell Charlotte.

”I wish I'd never said I'd do this,” Charlotte replied.

A new voice spoke up. ”I can tell you how to get rid of the Pageant Jitters forever,” it said, sounding as if it were reciting something from a TV commercial.

The voice belonged to the girl with the makeup.

”You can?” said Claire, Margo, and Charlotte in unison.

”Certainly. It would be my pleasure.”

I glanced at Claudia. Who was this kid? She was about Margo's age, but she looked and acted twenty-five.

”How do you know how to do that?” Margo asked. ”By the way, my name's Margo.”

”I'm Sabrina,” said the girl, and Margo shot me a look that plainly said, ”I told you so.”

Sabrina curtsied daintily. ”So very pleased to meet you,” she said in this funny, false voice. ”This is my sixth pageant. That's how I know about the jitters.” She was showing the girls some relaxing breathing exercises when a woman wearing tons of jewelry and even more perfume approached us. Her perfume reached us before she did.

”Come along, Sabrina,” said the woman. ”I want to try to introduce you to the judges.”

Sabrina smiled sweetly at the other girls. ”This is my mother. I really must run,” she said. ”There's always so much to do before a pageant. I do wish you the very best of luck.”