Moon Spun (2 page)

We circled the parade route twice—it was only five blocks—and headed for the rodeo grounds, followed by the float carrying the rest of the royal court—Princess Peach, Princess Apple Blossom and Little Miss Maraschino Cherry, who happened to be Tiffany, the daughter of my Uncle Sid and Aunt Sandra. To set the record straight, we’re step-relatives.

It’s complicated. Uncle Sid’s mother married Faye’s father after Faye and Uncle Sid were born. So Uncle Sid is Faye’s stepbrother . . . no blood relation. He married rich; a fact Aunt Sandra will not let him forget. Aunt Sandra doesn’t like Faye and me. She’d like to kick us off their farm, trailer and all, but after the big write-up in the paper about my role in the school incident she had a change of heart. Suddenly, she was all, “Oh, Allie! We’re so proud of you!”

What a phony!

Tiffany was junior princess by default. If I had an amazing lack of talent, Tiffany was even worse. Evil tempered, spoiled and lazy, her only claim to fame was that her mother sold more tickets to the 261

festival than any other human being in Peacock Flats. In an effort to be queenly and benevolent, I turned around and waved at her. She flipped me off. I blew her a kiss. As we entered the rodeo grounds, I noticed the leaves on the poplars lining the field were only gently fluttering in the breeze. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least the parade was over without a hot summer wind storm. At least, that’s what I thought at the time.

Yesterday, Friday, we’d had what the oldsters called “a hot spell.” The hotter it got, the grouchier people became. Tempers flared as the humidity rose. Huge thunder heads piled up over the Cascade Mountains to the west.

I worked at my Uncle Sid’s roadside fruit stand during the summer. Yesterday, every old geezer buying peaches said the same thing. “Is it hot enough for you?”

The storm hit when my shift was over. As I walked through my uncle’s yard to our trailer, parked next to Blaster the bull’s pasture, the skies opened up. Thunder and lightning rolled over the mountains, and rain drops the size of pennies bounced off the dusty ground. I wasn’t worried about the rain. The storm would blow over by morning. But I was worried about the wind. In our valley, wind always follows rain. Always.

Now, blissfully unaware I was about to make history, I scanned the packed grandstand until I spotted Faye and Kizzy. Beck Bradford, my hunky, half-demon boyfriend, sat next to Kizzy. I stood and waved as the crowd cheered and clapped. I was so wrapped up in the moment, I barely noticed the dust devil whirling down the track. That teensy lapse of awareness would lead to the most embarrassing moment in my life.

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Chapter Two

By the time we passed the judges’ stand, the dust devil had picked up discarded drink cups, a couple of plastic bags and a tumbleweed. Gathering speed and even more debris, it slammed against the front of the car and swirled over the top of the windshield.

“Man the torpedoes!” Captain McPherson shouted. Ms. Peacock-Tuman shrieked and flung her arms over the seatback, reaching out for Sasha. At the exact same moment, I ducked to avoid a flying newspaper. Her hand hit my rhinestone tiara, knocking it to the floor. When I leaned over to pick it up, the dust devil dived under my billowing gown and blew it straight up over my head. Sadly, Faye’s too-small panties had morphed into a thong. So, yeah, I mooned the entire population of Peacock Flats. Big time.

Frantically, I batted at my wayward dress, aware the crowd had grown eerily quiet, as if we’d entered the eye of a hurricane. The silence didn’t last long. When the dust devil moved on and I emerged from my plum-colored prison, all hell broke loose. With a roar of approval, the teenagers in the crowd stood as one, cheering, clapping, whistling, stomping, while the adults covered their mouths to hide their laughter. I was a crowd pleaser, all right. What could I do but pretend I was enjoying the moment?

I pasted a huge, phony smile on my face and blew kisses. Mayor Mort, looking flustered, halted the car by the judge’s stand, got out and went to the passenger side, threw open the passenger door and held out a hand to Ms. Peacock-Tuman. She ignored him and led Sasha from the car. Captain McPherson extended a scrawny arm to escort me to the judges’ platform. I wasn’t sure if he’d witnessed my accidental mooning until he leaned close and whispered, “Nice skivvies.”

The crowd was still on its feet and clapping as I mounted the judges’ stand. Swear to God, it’s really hard to act queenly when people are applauding your almost bare buns. I shuddered, wondering how many camera phones had captured my fleeting moment of fame. All I really wanted to do was vanish into thin air. But, I wasn’t blessed with that particular kind of magic. So, I sat on my throne and forced a smile when Mayor Mort marched to the microphone and said, “This here’s one queen we’ll never forget? Right, folks?”

Of course, everybody went crazy again. Fuming, I purposely avoided looking at my mother as I remembered her words . . . ” it’s not like anyone can see them under that.” Yeah, right. After the crowd settled down, Mayor Mort launched into a long-winded speech about the fruit industry. Bored out of my skull, I noticed a flurry of activity at the entrance to the rodeo grounds. A group of people approached the grandstand, their every move captured by a camera crew from a local TV station.

Terror filled my heart and I inhaled sharply. Oh, my God, had the camera crew been here all along? Would my bare buns be the lead story on the five o’clock news?

Mayor Mort droned on, but every eye in the place was on the newcomers, who stopped directly in front of the judges’ stand. There were ten of them. Three big guys wearing mirrored sunglasses, four mini-skirted Latino chicks exposing maximum cleavage and two nervous-looking men in business suits. I couldn’t quite make out the tenth person, what with the entourage milling around him. A low buzz arose from the crowd.

Suddenly, a piercing scream rang out and I heard a familiar voice yell, “It’s Junior! Oh my God, it’s him!”

The screamer was my best friend and neighbor, Mercedes Trujillo, who stood on the top row of 263

the bleachers, waving her arms and jumping up and down like a lunatic. Mayor Mort’s mouth snapped shut as the entire female population of Peacock Flats poured out of the stands and swarmed around Mexico’s newest daytime drama heartthrob, my former boyfriend, Junior Martinez. I wasn’t the only one who knew how to make an entrance!

It was one of those weird, surreal moments that would surely live forever in my memory. Junior and I, standing on the dusty track that circled the rodeo grounds, staring at each other, speechless. Security guys pushed the crowd back, giving us a small cocoon of privacy. Who was I kidding? With a bajillion digital cameras snapping away and every ear straining to eavesdrop, there was nothing private about it.

Maybe it was the panty incident. Or, maybe it was the fact that Junior had been gone for a year without a word of explanation. I guess the cause didn’t really matter, but suddenly, I was so mad I could spit.

I folded my arms and glared. “You’re a liar. You said you were driving your mother to Mexico and coming right back.”

Junior flashed his dimples and took my hand. I snatched it away.

He said, “Aw, come on, Allie, don’t be like that. You know I’m on TV . . . right?”

“Oh, yeah, I know you’re a big star now, so you were probably too busy to give your girlfriend a call. Maybe they don’t have phone service in Mexico.”

Junior reached out and wrapped his fingers around the moonstone. The scrape of his knuckles against my skin elicited an involuntary shiver. He smiled. “Last time I checked, you didn’t have a phone.”

At one time, Junior’s smile was a rare and beautiful thing. Now, it appeared effortlessly, as if he’d been practicing in the mirror. However, it still had the desired effect. I tried to stay mad, but my outrage was fading fast.

“I have a phone now, and besides, you could have called Mercedes or Kizzy or your sister, and left me a message.”

“You’re right. I’m so sorry. That’s why I’m here in person. I have something for you.”

He dropped the moonstone and cupped my face in his hands, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. I’m embarrassed to say I just stood there, bewitched, while Junior poured on the charm. In my own defense, I wasn’t my usual spunky self due to my recent humiliation, panty-wise. I’d probably still be standing there, gazing at Junior like he was the snake charmer and I was the snake, if not for the ruckus that broke the spell.

A menacing male voice I knew well, snarled, “Get your hands off me!”

I pulled away from Junior and saw Beck Bradford in a tussle with two security guards. Beck’s paranormal powers don’t kick in until after dark, but even in full daylight, he was awesome, a force to be reckoned with. He shook off the guards and pushed his way through the crowd. The dark pools in his amber eyes were enlarged, a sure sign he was truly ticked off.

“It’s okay,” I told the security guys. “He’s with me.”

I held out my hand to Beck, blushing when I realized I’d totally put my current boyfriend on the back burner while Junior Martinez held me spellbound, as witnessed by the entire population of Peacock Flats. No wonder Beck was mad. Not to mention, I’d probably given Junior the impression I’d been sitting around waiting for him. Not true. Definitely not true. I snapped out of my Junior-induced trance and made the introductions. “Junior? This is Beck Bradford. He’s my . . . ”

264

“Hey, Allie!” Somebody yelled. “Smile for the camera.”

“Boyfriend.” Beck supplied the missing word.

Junior’s smile vanished, and something dangerous flashed in his eyes. Though he’d left the gangbanging life behind, Junior still looked plenty scary.

“Boyfriend, huh?” he said, his lip curling in a sneer.

Beck and Junior stared at each other the way guys do, all bristled up, spoiling for a fight. I didn’t need to use the moonstone’s mind-reading powers to figure that out. I had to do something . . . TKP

would be good. How cool would it be to use telekinetic power to bang their stupid heads together?

No, too many witnesses. Weapon of choice had to be my mouth.

I dropped Beck’s hand and pointed at the four sexy babes in Junior’s entourage, who’d been watching our exchange with pouty lips and fire in their eyes.

“Wow, Junior, you’ve been a little busy yourself. Looks like you brought your harem along.”

Junior flushed and glanced over at the girls. “Yeah, well, they aren’t my girlfriends. They’re on the show, you know, and . . . ”

“Junior,” I said firmly. “In spite of what I said, I don’t care. You’ve been gone a year. I’ve moved on. So have you. Let it go.”

Junior thought about it for a while and then nodded, thrusting out a hand for Beck to shake. Their friendly handshake turned into an effort to crush each other’s bones.

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost sprained my eyelids. Boys are so lame.

One of the men dressed in a suit—later, I’d learn he was Junior’s manager—stepped into our inner circle.

“Time to go, Junior. You’re scheduled for an interview, and your fan club wants to meet you.”

Junior had a fan club?

“Okay, just give me a sec,” he said.

“So, this is what . . . a PR tour?” I asked, attempting to end our conversation on a civil note.

“That’s what it turned into,” he said with a grimace. “But you’ll find out the real reason when you go back home.”

“Why don’t you just tell me?”

“Don’t want to spoil the surprise,” he said.

Ignoring Beck’s menacing glare, Junior leaned close and whispered, “You’re always in my heart, Allie. Never forget it.”

He stepped back. His “people” rushed in and swept him away, before I had a chance to say goodbye. I felt a little pang as I watched him leave, wondering if I’d ever see him again. 265

Chapter Three

After Junior left, Beck walked me back to the judges’ platform. We had the following conversation: Beck: “So that’s the famous Junior, huh?”

Me: “Yep.”

Beck: “You over him?”

Me: “Yep.”

Beck: “I knew that.”

Moment of silence while I thought, Yeah, right.

Beck (eyes flashing with interest): “I didn’t know you wore thong panties.”

Me: “I don’t.”

Beck: “Sure looked like it from where I sat.”

Me (sighing deeply): “Long story.”

Beck: “Can’t wait to hear it.”

Me: “Later.”

Beck grinned, and dropped a kiss on my cheek. A couple of guys in the bleachers hooted their approval. I’d see Beck after he spent time with his mother, Melissa. He’d been attending a college prep summer program in Seattle, and had driven back to Peacock Flats early today to catch my big debut. At least I’d made it worth his while.

Beck was such a brain, he’d qualified for an accelerated program last year, earning enough credits to graduate high school early. He would start his freshman year at the University of Washington in September. His twin, Nicole, was more interested in her social life than studying, and would be my classmate at J.J. Peacock H.S. for another year.

With one hand clutching my billowing skirt, I climbed the stairs to the judges’ stand. My official duties consisted of handing out ribbons, judging a watermelon-eating contest, and smiling until my jaw ached. It was hard, but I managed to be gracious and queen-like, even when people showed me the display on their phones and digital cameras featuring my display. One old boy had captured the moment with his camcorder. No doubt about it. I had the most famous fanny in the history of Peacock Flats.

By five o’clock, I was all smiled out. All I wanted to do was slink back to the trailer and change my clothes. I rode home with Faye, who chattered nervously as we drove down Peacock Flats Road. She talked about everything under the sun, except the one thing on both our minds: the Royal Panty Incident. Truth be told, I was way too tired to be mad. I finally realized she was waiting for me to bring it up. Okay, fine. Then we could wring its neck, and give it a decent burial. I groped around under my dress, hooked a finger under the little scrap of nylon making my life a living hell, and yanked. Faye glanced at me curiously, as I squirmed and wiggled my way to blissful freedom. Finally triumphant, I held the panties up, and opened the passenger side window. I grinned at Faye. “Say goodbye.”