Red (7 page)

“Sorry,” Felicity said to the girls. Even at home in Scarletville, she tried not to cut lines, though redheads who did usually weren’t frowned upon.

The blonde eyed Haylie’s Scarletville High School Dance Troupe T-shirt with disgust, then turned away. “Scarletville girls,” she muttered to her friend. “They think they’re God’s gift to the universe.”

“
Someone
needs to learn her place,” Haylie whispered, and Felicity’s stomach twisted. She gave a noncommittal smile in response.

They only had to wait a few minutes before two fitting rooms opened up. Just before Haylie closed her door, she turned to Felicity and said, “Listen, I really don’t want us to fight about this dress, okay? So if either of us starts getting mad or upset, nobody gets it, and we’ll both find something else to wear. Deal?” She stuck out her tiny manicured hand.

Felicity was touched; she could see in her friend’s eyes how much she wanted the dress. “Deal,” she agreed, then shut the door behind her.

The dress felt alive in her hands as Felicity unzipped it, stepped inside, and pulled the silky fabric up around her body. There was an unexpected slit in the skirt that reached the middle of her thigh, just high enough to be sexy but low enough to be classy. When she zipped it and tied the halter top, the gown embraced her like an old friend. She turned around to look in the mirror, and her heart fluttered when she saw her reflection. Her very best self was smiling back at her.

“How’s it going in there?” called Haylie.

“Good. You?”

There was a little pause. “Good. You ready to come out?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah.”

Felicity stood with her hand on the doorknob for a long moment. Until she saw Haylie, she could pretend this dress was hers. She glanced back at her reflection one last time, admiring how the fabric hugged her body as if it had been made for her. But she heard Haylie’s door creaking open, and she knew it was time to face her friend.

She took a deep breath and stepped out of the dressing room.

For a full fifteen seconds, the girls appraised each other in silence. Haylie looked beautiful in the gown, but she was a little too short for it. The slit in the skirt hit her leg in a weird place, and three inches of silky fabric puddled around her feet. But those things could be corrected with a little tailoring. A voice in the back of Felicity’s mind whispered,
Give up the dress. Haylie deserves this more than you, you big artie fake.

She opened her mouth to tell Haylie how beautiful she looked, but her friend cut her off before she could say a word. “You look better in it,” she announced. “It’s meant for someone taller. You win. It’s yours.” Though she was clearly disappointed, she sounded sincere.

A strange mixture of guilt and joy suffused Felicity, and she struggled to keep her voice even. “Are you sure? You look really great in it, too.”

“Not as good as you. It’s okay, Felicity. I want you to have it. It’s your perfect dress, not mine.”

If Haylie really
wanted
her to have it, maybe it was okay to accept it after all. Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something. She’d show everyone she deserved it. She would win that crown, earn that prize money, use it to move her family to a redder neighborhood, just like her mom wanted. She would do this dress justice.

Felicity swooped in and hugged Haylie, squeezing her so hard she squeaked like a rubber chew toy. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you,” she said. “We’re going to find
your
perfect dress, even if we have to drive all the way to Des Moines.”

After Haylie retreated to her fitting room, Felicity did a silent happy dance, jumping in circles and shaking her butt. The most beautiful dress in the world was hers. She could barely stand to take it off and change back into her jeans. From the fitting room, she texted Brent and her mom that she’d found the perfect pageant gown.

A minute later, she received responses from both of them:

BRENT: cool. bet you look hott.

MOM: BABY I AM SO EXCITED FOR YOU CANT WAIT TO SEE IT LOVE MOM.

Haylie didn’t find anything suitable at the fifth boutique, but the sixth store had a promising selection. As Ivy napped on a bench outside the door, Felicity scurried back and forth between the racks and the fitting rooms, fetching Haylie new sizes and colors. At last they found a backless teal gown with just the right amount of sparkle and sophistication for Haylie. Felicity saw her friend’s eyes light up as she gazed at her own reflection, and she knew Haylie had finally found her perfect gown.

Speeding down the highway back to Scarletville with her two best friends and her new dress, Felicity was perfectly content. Her garment bag swayed gently on the hook in the backseat, and every time she glimpsed it in the rearview mirror, a little jolt of excitement coursed through her.

As they sped past the sign informing them that they were entering the Red Zone, Haylie asked, “Hey, when’s the prom court nomination assembly? It’s got to be really soon, right?”

Students at Scarletville High had been electing their prom royalty in the same ritualized way since the school was founded. All the juniors and seniors attended the assembly, where students stood up one by one and announced their nominations for king and queen. Each nomination had to be seconded, and each person was only allowed to nominate
or
second for one boy and one girl. Then the names of all the nominees went on a ballot, which everyone received during prom week. The top five winners comprised the prom court, and the king and queen were announced on prom night.

“The assembly’s on Friday,” Felicity said. “Madison’s going to talk about it during announcements on Monday.”

Haylie squealed and bounced in her seat. “Ooh, yay! I’ll nominate you if you nominate me, okay? And Brent can second for you, and Ivy can second for me. Is that all right, Ives? I assume you don’t want to be nominated.”

Ivy snorted. “No, that’s okay. I’m willing to make this enormous sacrifice for you.”

“Sounds great,” Felicity said. A senior almost always won for prom queen, but it was a status symbol even to be nominated. It would be a nice boost to her red cred.

They stopped at Hy-Vee for staples on the way home: Twizzlers, Sour Patch Kids, Doritos, microwave popcorn, and a tub of cookie dough ice cream. Finally, they arrived at Haylie’s house, where they changed into pajamas, sprawled on the squishy couches in the living room, and immersed themselves in sugar and mindless entertainment.

By the time they had demolished the junk food and watched three horrible B movies about oversized insects, it was nearly two in the morning. Felicity lay on the floor next to Haylie, her hair spread out on the carpet like seaweed and her feet propped on the couch next to Ivy’s head. A single lamp glowed softly in the corner of the dark peaceful room. Felicity was in a sugar-and-salt-induced daze that made her feel queasy, jittery, and exhausted in equal parts, but she was happy. She had almost forgotten what it was like to relax. This day with her friends had been so blissfully normal, and it felt like a gift, with her perfect dress shining on top like a giant bow.

Just as she was drifting toward sleep, she heard Haylie say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Me? Yeah, okay.”

“What’s been up with you lately? You’ve been acting so weird at school.”

Felicity’s brain registered that this was a dangerous question, but her body was too tired to react with much alarm. “What do you mean? Weird how?”

“Sort of twitchy and jumpy, like you think someone’s following you. And why are you suddenly talking to brunettes all the time? You’re going to start getting a reputation if you keep doing that.” Haylie nudged Ivy’s head with her toes. “Don’t you think, Ives?”

Ivy yawned. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. We’ve been kind of worried about you.”

“What is this, some kind of intervention?” Felicity tried to keep her tone light.

She felt Haylie shake her head. “We’re not trying to put you on the spot or anything. But maybe we can help if you tell us what’s wrong.”

Felicity desperately wanted to spill the whole story, but she knew she couldn’t. “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything.”

“Well, that’s specific,” said Ivy.

Felicity had to give them something. She chose her words carefully, trying to lie as little as possible. “I just feel like … I don’t know. There’s a lot going on all of a sudden, and I feel like maybe I don’t deserve everything I’m getting. The pageant and the art show and you guys and Brent and everything. I just keep thinking I’m going to get … exposed as a fraud or something. Like maybe I’m not really this person everyone thinks I am. And when they realize they’ve made a mistake, I’m going to lose it all.”

“You’ll never lose us,” said Haylie. “We’re your best friends.”

“I know what you mean, though,” Ivy said. “It’s super stressful dealing with so much stuff at once.”

You have no idea what I mean,
thought Felicity. But she just said, “Yeah, it is.”

Haylie rolled toward her and rested her head against Felicity’s shoulder. “You
totally
deserve everything you’ve got, silly. You’re a smart, talented, gorgeous redhead, and you can’t fake that stuff. It’s not like you’re in the art show and the pageant by accident. You got picked ’cause you’re the best.”

“Unlike me, who’s in the pageant one hundred percent by accident,” Ivy said, smacking Haylie on the leg. “If someone’s a fraud, it’s me.”

Haylie kicked her back. “Shut up! This isn’t about you. Felicity, I promise you don’t have to worry. You’re so amazing! And everyone will forgive you if you’re not perfect all the time. Nobody expects that.”

Felicity nodded, even though she knew nobody in Scarletville would forgive her if they found out what she really was: a cheater and a liar and a
secret strawbie
. But she just leaned her head against Haylie’s and doubled her resolve to do everything Gabby demanded of her. She couldn’t lose her friends’ faith in her, no matter what it cost.

A
s promised, Gabby delivered her hyena painting to the squash courts the day Jonathan and Felicity hung the art show. Her canvas was absolutely enormous—it required fifteen heavy-duty adhesive strips to affix it to the wall—and the colors were even brighter than they had appeared on the CD. Some of the neon paint had glitter in it, lending it an extra kitschy touch. Though Felicity hung it in the most inconspicuous location possible, it still screamed for attention. To her dismay, there was no conceivable way it would escape anyone’s notice.

But by the time the art show actually opened, Felicity had seen the painting so many times that she had grown used to it. She was grudgingly shocked to find that the longer she looked at it, the funnier it became. In addition to being a talented artist, Gabby was clearly very observant. She had captured the little wrinkle that always appeared between Haylie’s eyebrows when she was concentrating hard, and the Lorelei Griffin hyena wore its dress off the shoulder to reveal a pink bra strap, just as the real Lorelei often wore her shirts. Felicity started to realize that the painting wasn’t meant to be cruel. It was simply a satire, and it was a good one.

Felicity showed up half an hour early for the gallery opening to help set up the refreshments. Ms. Kellogg was already there when she arrived, teetering on insanely high heels as she cut cheese into little cubes. The cheese was flecked with some sort of herb, which made it look fancy and intriguing.

Ms. Kellogg looked fancy, too. Her shoes had sparkly buckles the size of golf balls, and her strawberry-blond hair was swept up in a complicated twist. Felicity wasn’t sure exactly what her own natural hair color was, but judging from her baby pictures, it was probably about the same shade as her teacher’s. A lot of students blatantly disrespected teachers who weren’t redheads, but Ms. Kellogg’s hair color made Felicity feel a connection to her.

“Hey,” Ms. Kellogg called when Felicity entered the room. “You look fantastic!”

“Thanks.” Felicity smoothed the skirt of her little black dress and smiled. She was probably overdressed, but it couldn’t hurt to look
too
good. Besides, she wanted this art show to seem authentic, and she’d seen enough movies to know that you were supposed to wear little black dresses to gallery openings. Since Ms. Kellogg was wearing a cocktail dress, too, she felt like she’d made the right choice. Her teacher had gone to school in New York City, the heart of the art world, so she probably knew what she was doing.

“I’m really impressed by what you guys have done with the show,” Ms. Kellogg continued as she peeled the plastic wrap off a wedge of Brie. “It looks very professional. And your sculpture is so, so beautiful. Have you considered applying to art school next year, like Jonathan?”

Felicity had always assumed she’d go to Scarletville Community College, like her mom, but lately she’d started imagining what it might be like to go to art school instead. This was the first time she had heard someone else voice the possibility, and her heart gave a little flutter. The prospect of creating beautiful things as a job was so thrilling that it almost seemed dangerous to consider. “Could I really do that, do you think?” she asked tentatively.

“Oh, absolutely! You’re very talented. I think you’d thrive there.”

Felicity felt a bubble of happiness expanding in her chest. Ms. Kellogg didn’t give compliments unless she really meant them. There was no redhead privilege going on here, and Felicity felt like she’d finally done something worthy of praise. “Thank you so much,” she said. “Where is Jonathan going?”

“The Art Institute of Chicago. He really deserves it—I’ve never seen a portfolio like that from an eighteen-year-old. I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned it. He’s the first student from Scarletville ever to get in there.”

“We don’t really talk about personal stuff,” Felicity said. “I mean, we’re friendly and everything, but we’re not
friends
friends.”

“That’s too bad. I think you two have a lot in common.”

As if on cue, Jonathan hurried into the room. He was wearing a blazer over a band T-shirt, jeans, and Converse sneakers, which made Felicity wonder if she was overdressed after all. “Hey,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Speak of the devil.” Ms. Kellogg popped a cheese cube into her mouth. “I was just telling Felicity how awesome the show looks. You guys really have an eye for this.”

“Thanks,” Jonathan said. “It was fun. Working with Felicity and everything.” He gave her a quick, shy smile.

They had just finished arranging the crackers and cookies on platters when the first artists and parents arrived, and Ms. Kellogg went into hostess mode, shaking hands and raving about how talented her students were. Felicity stood alone by the food table, nervously tugging on the hem of her dress. The show was out of her hands now. Her sculpture was sitting on a pedestal in the other room, waiting to reveal her secrets. And everyone was about to see the hyena painting, including her mom and her best friends. Felicity wiped her damp palms on her skirt, praying she wouldn’t have to take too much of the blame.

Jonathan appeared next to her, holding out a champagne flute filled with sparkling cider. “To controversial art,” he said, as if he had read her mind.

She took the glass and clinked it against his. Despite his awkwardness, she felt a little calmer with him by her side. “It looks good, doesn’t it?” she asked.

It might have been her imagination, but she thought she caught his eyes dipping down to the low neckline of her dress for a moment. “It looks awesome,” he said.

The St. Johns were among the first to arrive, their approach heralded by Andy’s and Tyler’s voices echoing down the hall. They were belting out their favorite song, which was about slimy fish guts. Felicity smiled as she heard her mom trying in vain to quiet them.

“LISSY!” Andy shouted when he caught sight of her, his voice amplified to three times its normal volume by the squash court. He barreled into her side, and Felicity nearly spilled her cider all over Jonathan’s shirt. Tyler burrowed into her other side, and she gulped down her drink so she’d have an arm free to hug each twin.

“You like the fish guts song, right?” Tyler asked. “Mom hates it.”

“I think it’s the most disgusting song
ever,
” Felicity told him.

“Disgusting is awesome,” Andy proclaimed. Jonathan laughed, and Andy beamed.

“These are my brothers,” Felicity said. “Guys, this is my friend Jonathan.” The word “friend” came out of her mouth effortlessly, before she had time to think about it.

Jonathan smiled at the twins. “
I
like the fish guts song,” he said, immediately securing their eternal loyalty. They slipped out from under Felicity’s arms and gravitated toward him like planets orbiting a star.

“Hi, baby,” Ginger called, her heels clopping loudly on the shiny hardwood floor. She planted a kiss on Felicity’s temple, then glanced around at the walls. “Oh
wow,
look what you’ve done! This looks so professional, Felicity! I can see why it took so much time away from practicing for the pageant.”

Felicity bit back her annoyance at the double-edged compliment. Her mom rarely showed any support at all for her art, and she knew she’d have to take what she could get. “I’m really glad you guys came,” she said.

“Mom, look!
Cookies!
” Andy rushed to the refreshments table as if he’d never seen food before, Tyler close at his heels.

“Maybe that’ll keep them occupied long enough for me to take a quick look around,” Ginger said. “We can only stay for a few minutes. Can you keep an eye on them?”

“Yeah, sure. My sculpture’s in the other room, if you want to see it,” Felicity said. “This is Jonathan, by the way. He curated the show with me.”

Ginger looked surprised to find Jonathan standing two feet from her, as if her eyes were unable to focus properly without something red to latch onto. “Oh, nice to meet you,” she said dismissively before bustling off to do a quick circuit of the room.

Felicity hoped Jonathan hadn’t made the connection between his hair color and Ginger’s rudeness. “Sorry, I think she’s pretty distracted. My brothers can be really exhausting,” she said.

“Don’t worry. I have two sisters and a brother. I know how it goes.” Jonathan drained the last of his cider and watched Felicity’s brothers investigate how many cookies they could stuff into their mouths at once. “So, there’s this gallery in Des Moines that’s exhibiting a bunch of huge sculptures, and I saw a couple on the website, and they looked like they had some papier-mâché parts. So I thought, you know, you might be interested.”

“Yeah, that sounds cool. Thanks. I’ll check it out.”

“Actually, a couple of friends and I were thinking about driving down to see them. If you wanted, maybe you could, um, come with us … ?”

Before Felicity could answer, she heard a low whistle behind her, similar to the wolf whistles she sometimes got walking past construction sites in shorts. When she turned around, indignant, she discovered Brent leaning against the doorjamb. “Wow, babe, you look hot,” he said, giving her the same look of hungry appreciation he usually reserved for the chocolate caramel clusters at Crimson Confections.

Felicity gave Jonathan an apologetic smile and went to hug her boyfriend. She resented the wolf whistle, but the fact that he was actually here canceled out some of her annoyance. Although she’d told him about the art show countless times, she had never expected him to show up. She put her arms around his neck and let him run his hands over her hips, and she heard Jonathan’s footsteps retreating behind her.

The moment Brent released her, he shot a dirty look at Jonathan across the room. “What were you talking about with that guy?”

“Jonathan? He was just telling me about this gallery in Des Moines.”

“Looked like he was asking you out or something.”

“What? No! Of course not. I mean, he invited me to go see this exhibit with him and his friends, but that’s not the same as
asking me out
.”

Brent’s jaw stiffened, as if he were trying to bite through a stick of stale beef jerky. “He looked all nervous.”

“He always looks like that. It has nothing to do with me.”

“But you’re not going with him, right?”

“I haven’t decided. He just asked three seconds ago.” Felicity reached out and touched Brent’s cheek. “Hey, I won’t go if you don’t want me to, okay? It’s really not a big deal.” But even as the words came out of her mouth, she heard how wrong they sounded. If she wanted to go to the gallery, she should go. Brent shouldn’t be allowed to tell her what to do.

“You want to go to the gallery with me instead?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Then I won’t have to go with Jonathan.”

Brent opened his mouth to respond, but having to choose between two horrors—allowing his girlfriend to go out with another guy or driving all the way to Des Moines to see
art
—left him speechless. Felicity laughed, unable to stay mad at him when he looked so clueless. “Why don’t we walk around?” she suggested. “I’ll show you my sculpture.”

“Yeah, okay.” Brent squeezed her butt. “This dress is seriously awesome. You should wear stuff like this all the time.”

She led Brent across the hall to her sculpture. Her mom was already there, circling it slowly and inspecting all the tiny pictures up close. As soon as Brent saw her, he stood up a little straighter and quickly moved his hand up to Felicity’s waist. “Hi, Mrs. St. John, how’re you doing tonight?” he asked, morphing into a wholesome all-American boy. Brent had always had a way with parents.

“I’m great, Brent, honey. Thanks for asking.” Ginger wound a strand of coppery hair around her finger and batted her eyelashes, and Felicity had to stifle the urge to gag. She
really
wished her mother wouldn’t flirt with her boyfriend. Then again, Ginger would probably flirt with a Christmas tree if it had a red wig perched on the top.

“What do you think of the sculpture, Mom?” Felicity asked, trying to redirect her mother’s attention.

“Oh, Felicity, it’s just
wonderful
. Look at all these tiny pictures of you! It must have taken you ages to glue them on here. And you look so gorgeous in all of them!” Ginger peered closely at an image on the sculpture’s knee. “Can I have a copy of this one for my desk at work, baby? Your hair looks so striking. You should start using this as a head shot.”

Felicity wasn’t surprised that her mom was fixated on the sculpture’s bright shiny skin and couldn’t see the piece as a whole, but she was disappointed nonetheless. “Okay. I’ll make you a copy. But you’re not really supposed to look at the photos separately. It all goes together.”

“It’s such a great shot of you, though. They all are. My beautiful girl. I’m so proud of you.” Felicity’s mom beamed at her.

Brent was taking cues from Ginger and looking at the individual photos from a few inches away. “This is really awesome, Lissy,” he said.

“Thanks.” In an attempt to give them both a clue, she said, “It’s called
Skin-Deep.
”

Brent nodded. “Oh, ’cause the pictures, like, make a skin? That’s cool.” He walked around and looked at the back of the sculpture’s head. “I can’t believe you made this. It totally looks like a real artist did it.”

Felicity assumed Brent had meant to compliment her, but the comment still stung. “I
am
a real artist, Brent.”

“No, I mean … you know what I mean. Like, a professional.”

A burst of her brothers’ laughter drifted across the hall, and Ginger straightened up. “Did you leave the boys alone?”

“I’ll go check on them.” Felicity headed for the other room, eager to put as much distance as possible between her mom, her boyfriend, and herself.

The boys were by the food table, right where she’d left them, deep in conversation with Jonathan. “Do you know what we’re going to be when we grow up?” she heard Andy demand as she approached.

Jonathan furrowed his brow in mock concentration. “Let’s see. Firefighters?”

“No!”