School of Charm (7 page)

Could I be a pageant girl and a tomboy at the same time? The idea buzzed around in my head like a fly that wouldn't go away. Me in a pageant. It was crazy. But being covered in makeup wouldn't be all that different from being covered in mud, would it?

The three of us fussed with our bracelets while Miss Vernie watched us. “That is a good lesson, Chip. Very well done, all of you.”

I wondered how we all learned something very different from the very same charm.

“But wait,” Karen said. “What does this have to do with the beauty pageant?”

A breeze kicked up, ruffling our hair and stirring the flowers in the vase that sat in the middle of the table. Petals scattered across the top.

Miss Vernie leaned forward. “I know this much: It will help you reach the goal that brought you here.”

Karen smiled and looked relieved. “To do good in the junior Miss Dogwood.”

Miss Vernie raised an eyebrow.

So that was it, then. This was just a charm school for beauty. Miss Vernie hadn't corrected her to say anything about magic. I pouted a bit, but still, the little bubble growing inside me didn't pop. I liked her school, and I wanted to stay even if I wasn't training for a pageant.

“Guess you're right, Miss Vernie. We did learn how to make great mud masks, so our skin will be its very best!” Karen said, like she was in a TV commercial.

“Oh, what a good idea! Take some mud home with you. I'll get you some empty Cool Whip containers. Good thing I made that ambrosia with it today. Seems like things always show up when you need them.” Miss Vernie pushed her chair back from the table and scooted into her kitchen.

Karen played with her remaining charms. “I really thought the mirror was going to be some sort of beauty lesson, like learning to look prettier or something.” Her brown hair had dried in the sun. It was wavy without the feathered, hair-sprayed bangs she normally had. She did look prettier. More natural.

“I'm not sure what to make of it. But I do feel like I changed somehow,” I said, looking at Dana's yellow eyes. Did she feel like that too?

But Dana looked away. I felt a prick of sadness.

 

W
E WALKED QUICKLY DOWN THE PATH SINGLE FILE
. I was ready to get back to the pond. But when we faced the ring of cattails again, I realized how much work we still had to do. There were 824 feet of them.

“What if we worked on it together?” Dana asked. “Karen, you jump on the shovel 'cause you're the heaviest.”

Karen crossed her arms across her bulging belly, forcing her shirt up and exposing her pale skin. “Geez, I came here to get away from my stepfather saying stuff like that.”

“Sorry, but it is what it is.” Dana shrugged. “Chip, you dig underneath and I'll haul them out of the water because my arms are the longest.”

So we got to work. And we got twice as far as we had during our morning session. We spent a long time working silently. I was afraid to break our rhythm with talk about TV shows or record albums. We didn't even notice that the sun was sliding down the sky.

“Girls.” Miss Vernie startled us. “What fine work you've done. I hate to chase you off, but I imagine your parents will be looking for you soon enough for supper.”

My hands were sore, but my muscles felt loose and my skin was cool in the water. The mud was comforting and so was the easy way we'd been working together. I didn't want to leave.

We sloshed out of the water and Miss Vernie passed out plastic containers so we could collect our mud.

“Can't wait to see how much we do tomorrow!” Karen said.

Miss Vernie mussed Karen's hair and Karen leaned in to her with a smile. “Tomorrow we need to start thinking about what you'll be wearing for the pageant. Will you be joining us, Chip?”

I turned to the pond and its shiny surface. I thought about the way I'd looked when I peered in the water with the mud on my face. Playing around in that gunk made me feel like I belonged with Dana and Karen. Could taking part in a beauty pageant make me fit in with my family? I did promise Mama I'd get along with Grandma, and this seemed like a good way to try.

I looked away from the water and, right into Miss Vernie's cool blue eyes. “Yes. Yes, I am joining.”

The way her eyes softened felt like a hug. “All right, then,” she said. “Tomorrow's the deadline. We'll go into town, sign you up, and look for some dresses too.”

We walked down Miss Vernie's driveway toward our homes. The comfortable silence we'd fallen into back in the pond was gone. We went our separate ways at the end of the driveway without saying good-bye. I frowned, anxious to come back and get rid of those wicked weeds so I could see the pond clean and clear.

Then I smiled, remembering the news I had for Mama. Wouldn't she be surprised? Charlene too. I practiced all the different ways I could deliver my announcement. I was joining the pageant. I would be part of their summer project. This tomboy was going to be like them. That bubble inside me grew a lot bigger just thinking about it.

chapter eight

“B
RENDA, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN
? Y
OU MISSED SUPPER,”
Grandma scolded as I walked into the dining room. “And you're filthy again.” She was standing in front of the table, serving a peach pie and wrinkling her nose. She held the knife in the air, waiting for my answer.

“I was at school,” I mumbled, rocking back on my dirty Keds. My heart was practically bursting to share my news. Would Mama clap? I was sure she'd jump up and hug me.

“School? It's July,” Charlene said. She poked a fork at her uneaten slice of pie.

“It's charm school,” I whispered, warming up to deliver the big news.

“Charm school?” Mama asked, scrunching her eyebrows together. “Where?”

“Just down the street. Miss Vernie's School of Charm.” I toyed with my bracelet.

“What are you doing in charm school?” Charlene asked while Mama gave me a funny look.

I blinked a few times. This wasn't going like I'd planned. “Learning stuff. Like, stuff for a pageant.” I shrugged, and my skin felt itchy. “Maybe.” I coughed.

“The pageant? We talked about this, Chip.” Charlene sounded angry, and she pushed her plate away.

Mama sat up and cocked her head. “You're joining the pageant? A beauty pageant? You don't even like to go to Charlene's pageants.” A little laugh slipped out and my heart fell. “Are you pulling my leg?” she asked, narrowing one eye at me.

Even Ruthie laughed. “You're so funny, Chip.”

That bubble inside me popped, and my insides felt like a big empty tub. Why were they laughing? I looked down at my feet and sucked in a breath before a little sob snuck out. “I said maybe. I'm not sure.”

“Miss Vernie?” Grandma set down the pie dish. “I didn't know she was still running that school.”

“Really? But you're neighbors,” I said.

“Keeps to herself. But I knew her long ago. She was in the Miss North Carolina pageant in 1939. The year I won.” Grandma frowned, her bottom lip sticking out, and shook her head. “Anyone interested in joining a pageant should be learning from me, not Miss Vernie.
I
was Miss North Carolina. And she's gone a little daft since . . .” But her voice was overpowered by Charlene.

“Why does Brenda get to go to a charm school? She doesn't even want to be in pageants. And just look at her!” Her chest was turning splotchy.

The four of them turned to me. Man, how I wished I had some mud with me to cover us all up right then.

“How are you paying for this school, Chip?” Mama asked, rubbing her temples. “You know we don't have extra money for something like that.”

“It's free. We help her with gardening work. It's nice. Real nice.” My heart was pounding.

Charlene snorted. “You sure it's really not some sort of labor camp? Sounds fishy to me.”

Ruthie tilted her head. “What kind of fish?”

Mama still had a funny look on her face. “I don't understand, Chip. I thought you weren't interested in this sort of thing.”

I wrapped my arms across my chest like I was cold. “Well, you guys are, so I thought I'd try too. Now that Daddy's gone, I don't . . . I don't know what to do with myself.” I swallowed hard and hoped the dam of tears that was filling up inside me wouldn't bust. “I miss him so much.” The words came out in a whisper that hovered over the room.

Mama squeezed her eyes shut and smoothed her hands down her thighs. Then she smiled hard. “I'm going to turn in early. Bad headache.” She knocked over her water glass as she got up to leave.

Grandma watched Mama rush from the table, and then studied me like I was a spot on her white sofa, like I was a birthmark on a perfectly good white cheek. She shook her head and hurried to the kitchen.

“Why'd you go on talking about him?” Charlene scolded in a harsh whisper.

“Why can't I talk about Daddy?” I gripped the chair I was standing behind. “It doesn't make sense.”

“Because it upsets Mama.” She pressed her eyes shut. “We all miss him, Brenda.” Her voice was thick like syrup. “But he's gone and talking about it just makes things worse.”

Grandma came back in the room with a towel and started wiping up the water. “Charlene's right, you know. No use talking about your hurts. Just makes them hurt more. It's best to leave the past behind you. No good looking back at it all the time.”

Charlene took a few deep breaths then opened her eyes. Her gaze was squinty and hard. “Now I have to go make sure Mama's okay.” She threw her napkin on the table and stood up, her chest rising and falling with her great big breaths. “And don't bother entering that pageant, Chip. You'll lose for sure.” She flipped her long red hair over her shoulders and sprinted up the stairs.

Ruthie blinked her big blue eyes at me and squished a peach under her thumb. “But the fishy camp sounds like your kind of fun, Chip.”

“Ruthie, it's not a fish camp,” I said.

She crossed her arms in a huff.

Grandma walked over to me and took me by the arms like she was going to march me right to my room. Instead she studied me again. “It's a shame you have your Grandma Anderson's chubby legs. Your mama and Charlene both have my nice thin figure. I'm sure Ruthie will too.” She dropped her hands and stepped back, looking me up and down.

I glanced at my legs. I never noticed how different they were from Mama's and Charlene's. I'd always thought of them as good for running and climbing.

Grandma tapped her finger against her chin, nodding. “The Junior Miss division doesn't have a bathing suit competition. So no one will see your legs. And makeup will cover that up,” she said, pointing to my cheek. “Unfortunately, you don't have your sisters' natural advantages, but we can work on that.” Her voice sounded encouraging. “You're not going to win, but it would be fine for us to try. Yes. It would be a good way to put things behind you and move forward.”

Put things behind me? Did she mean Daddy?

“And of course, you couldn't ask for a better coach. I won Miss North Carolina and your mother was runner-up in her day. It would be a lot of work, especially with your sisters in the pageant, too, but I can make the effort if you can.” She set her hand on my shoulder and smiled. At least I thought it was a smile. “It's time for a brand-new Brenda.”

I felt frozen under her cold fingers. A brand-new Brenda? Why couldn't good old Chip join the pageant? My heart beat its way up my chest into my throat. She didn't think I could do it. None of them did. Even Ruthie was sitting at the table wrinkling her nose. And Grandma was crazy if she thought this would make me put Daddy behind me and forget him. I crossed my arms. “Never mind. I think Mama and Charlene are right. I'm Chip, not Brenda, and I'm not pageant material. It was a dumb idea.”

Grandma pulled away from me and her lips formed a scowl. “Very well. If that's how you feel. I suppose it's for the best. We'll be quite busy as it is.” She scooted over to Ruthie and made a fuss about getting her cleaned up, even though her dress wasn't wrinkled or stained or anything.

I stood there in the dining room looking at my feet. And here I thought I'd be celebrating with everyone that I was joining their plans too. This wasn't the sign I wanted from Daddy. I wasn't fitting in. I was making it worse.

I sat down and put a scoop of mashed potatoes on my plate.

Grandma walked over and took it from me. “Oh no you don't. If you're late for dinner, you don't eat dinner.”

I wasn't upset. My stomach hurt too much to eat, anyway.

 

G
RANDMA SENT ME UP TO TAKE A BATH EVEN THOUGH
I told her I was old enough for a shower. Then she made me go right to bed. But I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about what she'd said. A brand-new Brenda? I hated that idea; I didn't want to be somebody different. I wanted to be the old me. The Chip who rode bikes with Billy. The Chip who took long hikes with Daddy. But Billy wasn't here. And Daddy wasn't coming back. Was Grandma right? Could I still be Chip down in North Carolina without Billy and Daddy? Did I need to leave everything behind? The whole thing was stirring my mind up like a stick in a mud puddle. It felt that way a lot now with Daddy gone.

I stared out my window at the moon. Could Daddy see it wherever he was? I sat up in bed and wrapped a blanket around me. I wondered what the moon looked like reflecting off Miss Vernie's pond. I wanted to get back in there and rip all those cattails out and feel the cool mud against my skin. I wasn't even sure I could keep going to her charm school if I wasn't going to be joining the pageant. I didn't want to waste Miss Vernie's time.

“What do you think?” I asked the owl. He looked like he was thinking of an answer. I picked him up. His feathers were soft and dusty. I brushed him off. He felt big but surprisingly light in my arms. “I should name you if you're going to be staring at me all the time.”

I set him back down on the nightstand. “Freddy. You are Deady Freddy. Sorry about that, by the way. The whole being dead thing. I hope you didn't leave behind any baby owls.”

It wasn't so bad having him in my room. He was pretty, with big yellow eyes framed by tufts of feathers. But I still didn't like those dead animals downstairs. I wouldn't be naming them.

Quietly, I slid out of bed. I hated nighttime at Grandma's. The sounds were all wrong. The bedrooms had air conditioners, so I couldn't hear the noises outside. But there wasn't much to hear anyway. I missed the peepers back home, chirping me to sleep each night. Charlene always threw a pillow over her head when they were out, but I loved them. Grandma didn't have any peepers. Just a few crickets chirping when I opened the bathroom window to gaze out at her backyard, with its neat rows of droopy roses glowing under the moon.

But then I heard a muffled noise I hadn't heard before. It sounded like one of those dead stuffed animals had come back to life to haunt Grandma. Or a wounded bird. Maybe it was some sort of mourning dove we didn't have back home. It continued its sad song until I had to get up and investigate. I followed its cry down the hall, past the locked room, and toward the living room, thinking it might be in the rhododendron bush in front of the window.

I froze on the top stair. It wasn't a bird crying at all. It was Mama. She was sobbing into her hands like she was trying to push the tears back in. She sat on one of Grandma's stiff-backed chairs, trying so hard not to cry, all those porcelain dolls watching her like they just couldn't believe it.

I sank down onto the stair and watched her too, my fingers shaking as I clenched my hands in my lap. I'd never seen Mama cry. Not even after Daddy died. There was so much to do afterward, picking out the casket and headstone, planning the funeral lunch, and selling the house. Daddy always said Mama was so strong. She definitely wasn't a crier. Once, Mama burned her hand on the stove, and she let out a string of curse words instead of sobs. It was like Mama always skipped sad and went straight to mad.

But this time, sadness must've crept into her heart and waited until she was all alone to sink its teeth into her. And it was chomping down hard. It scared me to see her crying like that. I hung my head, knowing I was the one who'd reminded her of Daddy and had made her sad. Charlene was right. I shouldn't upset Mama. I wanted to go and hug her and tell her I was sorry—so sorry, so sorry, so sorry. But I ran back to my room and smacked right into Grandma.

“What are you doing sneaking around my house, young lady?” Grandma looked strange without her penciled-in lips and bright pink blush. Standing there in the dim light, she looked like a picture someone had started erasing. She walked to the off-limits room and checked the doorknob.

I pulled my gaze away from the door and looked at the floor. What could be so awful she had to hide it behind a locked door? “Sorry, Grandma. I was just going to the bathroom.” I ran to my bedroom before she could say another word. I crawled into bed thinking about how disappointed Daddy would be with me, hurting Mama like I did.
I won't make her sad again, Daddy. I promise.

I touched the charms on my bracelet, wishing one of them could teach me a particular lesson: how to make my mama happy. I wondered how she would look at me the next morning. Would it be one of her
disappointedinme
looks? Or worse? Maybe I'd hurt her so much, she wouldn't even look at me at all.