She gave me a suspicious look. "You're not going to enter that goofy pageant, are you?"

I blushed. "Um, sure. Why not?"

Susan huffed loudly. "Why not? In the first place, it's degrading. I can't believe the school even does such a thing, in this day and age. In the second place, you can't win. And in the third place, you are not that kind of girl."

---

[OTHER STORIES]

 

3. No Beating The Classics
 

I worked every day until school started, four hours a day. Jordan was right: the place was incredibly busy. The hardest part was learning to describe all the teas. Mr Fisby made me taste them all, but they all seemed pretty much the same.

It was a good job. I was making money. Jordan worked hard and didn't complain, but she rarely spoke or smiled. I caught her staring at me a lot, but her face was so closed I couldn't read her expression. Was she mad at me for some reason? Did she not like me?

I felt a little less uncomfortable when I saw that she treated her father much the same way. It didn't seem to affect him, though. Her father pretty much ignored Jordan's sullen nature. He was all business, all about the customers and the shop, and when he spoke to her it was more like a boss speaking to an employee than a father speaking to his daughter.

Of course I didn't like seeing that... it kind of hurt, actually. It made me think of Maisie and her parents.

Then again, maybe Jordan just didn't like working in the tea shop. You're kind of stuck when you're born into a family business.

Aside from that, I liked the situation. Mr Fisby was nice to me. He wasn't exactly friendly... I guess you could say he was professionally kind.

The really big surprise was how much energy the job required. You wouldn't think that waiting tables could be physically taxing, but honestly all the running, the cleaning, the paying attention and being nice to everyone... it wore me out!

At the same time, I could feel my strength and endurance coming back. The first night I was exhausted, but less so the second and third. And each morning I woke up with more energy!

By Sunday, I almost felt like my old self again.

Still, after a week at the tea shop, I was ready for a break, so school almost seemed like a vacation.

The first day, Monday, began with an assembly. Susan and I sat next to each other, whispering our news to each other, mainly about Maisie. Susan didn't seem surprised that Maisie wasn't back, but Susan was a hard person to surprise.

In fact, Susan and I already knew the biggest news, the one that caught every other girl unawares: I'm talking about our new principal. The whole auditorium was abuzz when Miss Overmore announced that Sister Honoraria had retired, but the murmuring really kicked into high gear when she said that *she* was taking the old nun's place.

That the principal had changed was news enough. Then add to that the fact that Miss Overmore was the first principal at BYHS who wasn't a nun. And not only was she not a nun, she was also the first black woman to ever hold the post.

Everyone liked Miss Overmore, but we also knew that she brooked no nonsense. She was beautiful, graceful, and lovely, but she could turn to steel in a moment.

"Now that you've met your new principal — me," she was saying, "the next order of business is to introduce our new girls. When I call your name, please stand up and say hello, so we can see who you are."

Two of the new students were freshmen. The first girl, Mallory, leaped to her feet when called and let out a loud, "Howwww-deeee!" like Minnie Pearl. Everyone laughed, and Mallory bowed in several directions before sitting down. Miss Overmore ignored the disruption and kept a serious face.

The second girl, Blair, didn't respond. Miss Overmore called her name twice with no result. Heads were swivelling left and right, back and forth, wondering where she might be. Finally, when Miss Overmore called her name the third time, the girl let out a high-pitched squeal and leaped to her feet, crying with great indignation, "MALLORY! WHY DID YOU PINCH ME?" in voice that filled the auditorium.

Everyone tittered and giggled, and Blair, who was clutching her behind with both hands, looked around the room stupified, her mouth hanging open. It seemed to take her half a minute to come to herself, when she sat down quickly with a loud thump!

Miss Overmore had to pound on the lectern with a book to restore order. Once quiet returned, she introduced the rest of the new girls without incident.

At the end of the assembly, Miss Overmore said, "One more announcement, and then you may go to your second period classes.

"Tomorrow, we will have another assembly, same time, same location. We will have a special guest who will tell us all about the 'Madonna of the Future' project, which some of you may already know about."

There was a loud general shuffling as everyone got to their feet, gathering their things. Miss Overmore's voice called out one final announcement that was nearly lost in the din:

"Applications for the Miss BYHS pageant must be turned in by end of school Friday. Blank forms are at the office."

We had some time before our first class, so Susan and I walked slowly, chatting. Even so, we got to the classroom before the teacher arrived. The new girl Mallory was standing behind the teacher's chair, straightening it. It was odd, but we didn't make anything of it.

Mallory ran to grab a seat in the back row. Susan and I sat on the right side of the room... not in the first row, but closer to the front.

When the bell rang, the teacher, one of the older nuns, walked in quickly. She pulled out her chair and sat down heavily in it.

As soon as her took her seat, a long, loud frrrapppp! was heard — the unmistakable sound of a fart.

We all laughed at the unexpected noise, but no one as much as Mallory. She threw her head back, bared her teeth, and guffawed. Her haw! haw! haw! was so loud, it was almost alarming.

The nun jumped to her feet, face crimson, and stared at the seat of her chair. With a expression of distaste, she picked up a limp whoopie cushion with two fingers.

"Oh!" Mallory wheezed, "There's no beating the classics!"

"Girls, really!" the nun exclaimed, and dropped the offending item in the trash.

The next moment, Blair burst into the room, wide-eyed, as if she'd been lost for days. She stood by the door and looked open-mouthed around the room, unblinking.

"Come in and sit down," the teacher told her. When Blair didn't move, the nun added, "Take a seat by Susan," and gestured to an empty seat on Susan's left.

Blair scurried over and threw herself into the seat, scattering her belongings all around her. She was nearly trembling, she was so nervous. Then she gasped as if in alarm and, turning to Susan, asked, "You are Susan, aren't you?"

"Yes," Susan replied. "You're in the right place. Just calm down, take a few breaths, okay?"

Blair smiled uncertainly and looked around. Her quick head motions reminded me of a little bird.

"All right, girls," the nun began. "Please take out your Math books and turn to page seven. Page seven in your Math books."

I plopped the heavy book on my desk and turned the pages. So did everyone else...

... except Blair. She reached into her bag, and with a cry of dismay pulled out her History book. Wordlessly she showed it to the teacher, who said, "All right, Blair, look on with Susan."

Susan sighed and pulled her desk close to Blair's.

The rest of the hour passed without event, but when I passed the trash can I noticed that the whoopie cushion had gone.

When Susan and I sat down in English class, I looked at Mallory, who was squirming with excitement in the back row. "Susan, I think Mallory is going to try the whoopie cushion again."

Susan rolled her eyes, and sure enough, when the teacher sat down, we were treated to a lively frrrapppp!

Like the previous teacher, this nun, redfaced, dropped the limp bladder into the trash.

"Look at how Mallory laughs," Susan said in an irritated tone. "She looks like a donkey braying."

Then, just like before, Blair burst in, crashed next to Susan, and pulled out her Math book when it was time to read.

"For today, just look on with Susan," the teacher said, and Susan, looking daggers at Blair, pulled her desk over.

 

---

 

In the cafeteria line I asked Susan whether she knew what the "Madonna of the Future" project was.

She shrugged. "All I know is, it's something about a painting. I don't think it has anything to do with us."

We sat down at our usual table, just the two of us, and looked at each other. Susan said, "It's going to be quiet without Maisie."

Before I could reply, Mallory noisily dropped her tray next to mine, kicked her chair a little space from the table, and dropped into it with a grunt. She grabbed some french fries and shoved them into her mouth.

I looked at her in surprise. Susan eyed her with indignation.

"Sumphin wrong?" Mallory asked, her mouth full of food.

Before Susan could answer, Blair came up, wide-eyed as usual, and took the seat next to Susan. She looked around the room and at the three of us.

Mallory burst into her haw-haw-haw and shouted, "Blair! Where's your food?"

"What?" Blair asked, searching all around her.

"You did the whole lunch line and didn't take any food," Mallory crowed.

Blair sighed, looking offended, and wandered back to the end of the line.

"Blair is the original dumb blonde," she said.

Susan huffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Mallory, Blair's hair is black."

Mallory smiled. "Yeah... See? She couldn't even get *that* right!"

"Oh, boy," I groaned.

Susan and I finished eating as quickly as we could. She asked me in a low voice, "I'm going to the library. You want to come?"

"No," I said. "I need to run by the office."

She gave me a suspicious look. "You're not going to enter that goofy pageant, are you?"

I blushed. "Um, sure. Why not?"

She scoffed. "A beauty pageant?"

My blush deepened. "Yes, sure, why not?" I repeated.

Susan huffed loudly. "Why not? In the first place, it's degrading. I can't believe the school even does such a thing, in this day and age. In the second place, you can't win. And in the third place, you are not that kind of girl."

"Hey, thanks for the vote of confidence!" I said, feeling a little offended.

"Oh, Marcie! Look: you're not a girly girl. You know this. You're... an action hero. You knock out bad guys, you shoot kidnappers in the foot. That's who you are. You don't tap dance or twirl batons. You don't worry about moisturizer and eye shadow. You wear this uniform day after day and you never try to accessorize it. I mean, face it: you're practically a boy."

"What!?"

"Hey, no offense! I'm no femme fatale myself. I'm just saying—" She sighed. "Marcie, you're cute. Boys like you. Everybody likes you, but you are not the most feminine female.

"Besides," she went on, "Only a senior can win."

"What if an underclassman is prettier?"

"Oh, look," she said. "When Miss Overmore was a junior here, she entered the pageant, and she should have won. She got more votes than anybody else — a huge majority — but they fudged it and made a senior win. They didn't even let her be the runner up!"

"Really?" I asked. "How do you know this?"

"Oh, come on," she scoffed. "I've read every issue of the school newspaper, all the way back to the beginning. What do you think I do in the library? I read. And, I ask questions."

"Hmmph," I said, thinking.

"Even if a underclassman *could* win, do you think you could beat Samantha deVoss?" She gestured with her chin at one of the sophmores.

She was right. Samantha was the most beautiful girl in the school. I'd heard she actually worked as a model and had even been on TV. "Talk about a Madonna: if Rafael was alive today, he would paint Samantha."

I sighed. "Okay. So I'm not the fairest of them all. But I still can enter, can't I?"

"I guess," Susan said. "But why? Why would you ever want to? What's the point if you can't win?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I'm curious. I just want to. I want to see what it's like. I want to have that experience."

Susan relaxed and smiled. "Okay," she said. "I guess I understand. Sorry I gave you a hard time, but those contests..." she shook her head and shivered in distaste. "Anyway, I hope you have fun."

"Thanks! And Susan," I added with a laugh, "I'll try to not do anything degrading."

 

---

 

The next class was History, and guess what. Mallory was squirming away in the back row, already stifling her laughter. But this time, when the teacher walked in, she pulled out her chair and glanced at the seat. Still standing, she put her bag on her desk, reached in, and drew out a pair of scissors.

She held up the rubber bladder and cut it neatly in half. She threw the pieces on her desk like a trophy. No one would ever make it fart again.

Susan turned to give a superior smile at Mallory, but Mallory only shrugged.

"Just wait," Mallory whispered, "Tomorrow, I'll make this look like child's play."

"Tomorrow will be too late," Susan whispered back. "It already looks like child's play."

Mallory smiled and said, "We'll see."

Susan opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Blair, who once again burst into the room, and — as Susan softly exclaimed "Damn!" — crashed into the seat next to Susan.

"Take out your History books," the teacher told us, and inevitably Blair pulled out her English text and showed it with a mournful look to the teacher.

The teacher opened her mouth, but Susan put up both hands and said, "Wait a moment, sister, I've got this." She grabbed Blair's bag, rummaged a bit, and pulled out Blair's History book, which she plopped on the girl's desk.

"Thank you, Susan," Blair said, with a breathless smile.

"Oh!" Susan groaned quietly in my ear. "Nobody can be that stupid, can they? It has to be an act."

© 2011 by Kaleigh Way

[OTHER STORIES]