Snow Queen (19 page)

A
ubrey stood in the wings in her street hockey gear—black hockey pants, bright red Under Armour top, black helmet, severely beat-up, used Rollerblades—and ignored the stares and laughter of her fellow contestants, all of whom were wearing frilly dresses or sparkly dance outfits. The audience murmured in interest and confusion as one of the stagehands set up Aubrey’s hockey goal on the opposite side of the stage and placed the hockey balls in a line about twenty yards out. Aubrey peeked around the curtain and saw several people checking their programs, turning them over as if the explanation for all this would be typed on the back cover. Clearly, Aubrey was not going to be singing a song from
South Pacific
.

“And now, we have Miss Aubrey Mills, whose
talent is…hockey,” Grayson said into his microphone.

There were a few laughs, and the murmuring grew louder. Aubrey took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and told herself to focus. She could do this. She had gotten through the opening dance number without tripping herself or anyone else, had managed to stroll around the stage in her evening gown without snagging her heel on the skirt or tugging up the bodice, and had breezed right through the snowsuit competition. She knew that her talent was way cooler than any of the other girls’ with their yodeling and gymnastics and ballet. Ironic, considering that as recently as that morning she had been sure that this was the one event in which she was going to tank. But things had changed. She opened her eyes again, focused on the goal, and skated onstage.

For a moment, she thought about saying something by way of introduction, but nothing came to mind. She decided to just stun them with her skill. Let the hockey stick speak for itself.

She pulled back and shot the first three goals
into three different corners of the net—
bam, bam, bam
. The murmuring in the audience stopped. Then she quickly skated an arc around the back of the goal, sped over to the balls again, and shot another, smack into the top right corner. She stopped on a dime, turned around, and raced the other way, hazarding a glance at the judges as she went. They all sat in the front row with their clipboards, transfixed. Clearly they had never seen anything like this before. At least not on this stage.

Aubrey made another round, raced to the balls, and hit another two goals. There was one ball left. She popped it up onto the blade of her stick and juggled it. A wave of impressed whispers and gasps made its way through the audience. Grinning now, Aubrey popped the ball up into the air, reeled back, and whacked it out of midair like a baseball. The ball whizzed across the stage and stuck in one of the net’s holes. Perfection. The crowd went wild and Aubrey kicked one skate behind her and performed a quick curtsy, which just made them laugh and applaud even harder.

I have this in the bag
, Aubrey thought, looking
down at the judges, who were smiling at one another and making notes. Now all she had to do was score big in the interview competition and she was sure that crown was hers.

“Miss Aubrey Mills, ladies and gentlemen!” Grayson called out, striding back onto the stage.

Aubrey gave a quick wave, then turned and skated off the stage, blowing right by the other princesses, who were no longer snickering at her. In fact, they all looked rather ill. They knew they had just seen their scores knocked down a peg.

“Aubrey.”

Christie stepped out from behind a curtain with her baton. She was wearing the sparkly gold and red twirling uniform of their school’s marching band and she looked, as always, adorable. Still, Aubrey’s heart caught temporarily at the sight of her friend. They hadn’t spoken since that morning.

“That was…great,” Christie said. “When did you decide to change your talent?”

“Today,” Aubrey said, lifting one shoulder. “I gotta get back and change.”

“I’m up next,” Christie said, glancing out at
the stage. “I’m
so
nervous.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, Christie,” Aubrey said quickly. “I’ll see you after.”

She turned her back on Christie’s stricken expression and skated for the dressing room. The schedule was beyond hectic. Christie should have known there was no time for chitchat. If she wanted to be a winner, she would have known that.

Sitting on her stool in front of her mirror, Aubrey flipped through the huge stack of index cards on which she’d written all the potential interview questions she could find. On the back of each one was an articulate, winning answer that was sure to impress the judges. The interview was the last event of the night and, like the talent competition, the scores were weighted more heavily than the scores for the evening gown and snowsuit competitions. The talent show wasn’t quite over yet, but if the lukewarm responses of the crowd were any indication, Aubrey had taken that hands down. If she had scored in the top five in gown and snowsuit, and could win the interview portion, she was sure
this pageant would be hers.

Aubrey glanced up as Christie walked into the room. Her friend hesitated at the door, then came over and dropped her baton on the counter in front of her mirror.

“How’d it go?” Aubrey asked.

“Fine,” Christie said, reaching back to unzip her outfit. “I’m going to change back into my gown.”

She didn’t make eye contact with Aubrey once. Not directly, not in the mirror, not at all.

“Who’s out there now?” Aubrey asked.

“Layla,” Christie replied. “She’s the last one.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “Of course she is. Give the big, memorable finale spot to the girl who’s
supposed
to win.”

Christie said nothing. She simply turned and walked behind the dressing curtain, grabbing her gown and hanger off the hook as she went. Aubrey felt a knot forming in her stomach. She knew that Christie was upset with her because she hadn’t wanted to spend the day together, but how could Christie not understand that Aubrey wanted to concentrate on the pageant? Christie had seen what Layla had done to her. She knew
that Aubrey was a competitor. Wasn’t it obvious that she had to take Layla out? And wasn’t it even more obvious that, in order to do that, she would have to work her butt off?

Suddenly, the crowd erupted with cheers. It was so loud that all the chatter around Aubrey stopped and the princesses looked toward the open door of the dressing room in shock.

“What just happened?” Dana asked, sitting down on her stool to Aubrey’s left.

“Layla just finished her dance number,” Rebecca replied flatly, holding a cordless curling iron in her hair.

Aubrey felt a hot rush of annoyance. She slapped her study cards down on her counter and got up, whipping her own gown down from its hook.

What are they doing out there, giving her a standing ovation?
she thought bitterly.
It’s just a little hip-hop.

She ducked behind the changing curtain just as Christie ducked out the other side. Aubrey clucked her tongue. Was Christie avoiding her completely, or had the timing been just a coincidence? Her hands shook with anger and
frustration as she whipped off her hockey gear and stripped down to her bra and underwear. She was about to step into her gown, when she saw a big, white smear across the front of the skirt.

Aubrey blinked. That couldn’t be there. She had to be seeing things. She brought the skirt closer to her face and touched the smear with her fingertip. It was ivory colored and greasy. Makeup. Someone had gotten foundation all over her evening gown.

“Who did this?” Aubrey shouted, storming out from behind the curtain. She didn’t even care that she was half dressed. Her adrenaline, nervousness, and ire were all roiling together, and her skin burned. She held the gown up in one hand and glared around the room, her eyes feeling as if they were about to pop out of her head. “Which one of you ruined my dress?” she yelled.

Christie stepped forward. “Aubrey, calm down.”

“I will not calm down! Someone is trying to sabotage me,” Aubrey ranted, stepping forward. “Layla did it, didn’t she? One of you had to see
her do it. Just tell me!”

Rebecca and Dana exchanged a disturbed look.

“Tell me!” Aubrey shouted again.

Ever so slowly, Dana stood up from her stool and stepped forward. “Actually, Layla didn’t do it. It was me. But I didn’t do it on purpose. My makeup slipped out of my hand and it fell on your dress. You really should have put it back in a garment bag, you know. I—”

“How could you be such a klutz?” Aubrey shouted.

“Aubrey,” Christie said in a warning tone, reaching for her arm.

Aubrey wrenched herself away. She started to imagine how ridiculous she was going to look, stepping out onstage for the interview in a stained dress. The judges were surely going to deduct points for this. She might never recover. And then Layla would win and all of this would be for nothing.

“They should disqualify you for this!” she ranted. Dana backed away nervously and all the other girls in the room gave Aubrey a wide berth.

“Aubrey,” Christie said again.

“You owe me a dress! Go find me a dress!”

“Aubrey!”
Christie shouted at the top of her lungs.

The room was completely silent. Aubrey turned and looked at Christie, and her overwhelming anger suddenly morphed into complete shock. Had Christie just yelled at her? That had never happened before. In fact, as far as she knew, Christie had never yelled at anyone, ever.

“Come with me,” Christie said firmly. Then she gripped Aubrey’s bare arm, grabbed her own silk robe with her other hand, and shoved it at Aubrey. “But cover up first.”

Aubrey quickly slung the robe over her shoulders and allowed Christie to drag her into the hall. From the corner of her eye, Aubrey saw Layla striding toward them, looking all triumphant after her talent performance. Christie groaned at the sight of her, turned, and shoved open the door to the men’s room, practically throwing Aubrey inside.

“What are you doing?” Aubrey blurted,
shoving her arms through the sleeves of the robe.

“No! No talking! I get to talk now,” Christie said, raising a hand. “You, Aubrey, are completely out of control.”

“What, that? I just—”

“No! Me! Talking!” Christie said, pacing in front of the urinals in her high heels and pink gown. “Look, I know that Grayson let you down. And I know what happened at the ball last night sucked. Layla has been just awful to you—”

“To both of us,” Aubrey said.

Christie shot her a narrowed-eyed look that stopped her blood cold. She couldn’t believe her sweet, upbeat friend could even produce such a look.

“Sorry,” Aubrey said, looking at the floor.

“But you have not been yourself since we got here,” Christie continued. “You’re either completely focused on taking Layla down or you’re completely focused on winning the hockey competition or you’re completely focused on getting Grayson to like you. And now…now you’ve become a complete pageant psycho! How could
you yell at Dana like that? You know she didn’t mean to do it!”

Aubrey’s head hung a bit lower. “I’m sorry, I just…look, you know I’m a competitive person.”

“Yes. I know this,” Christie said. “But I also know you’re a good person. And you’ve always been a good friend. You’ve always cheered me on and supported me and I thought you were going to do that this week. But today—the most important day of the whole thing—you’ve suddenly become completely selfish. I mean, this is the biggest event of my life. And you didn’t even wish me luck before my talent.”

Christie tugged a paper towel out of the dispenser on the wall and toyed with it, twisting it into a tight roll. Aubrey blinked. Her heart felt as if it was shrinking down to the size of a pea. Had she really been that awful to Christie? But then, she realized with a start, she
must
have been. Because for the first time ever, Christie had confronted someone. Unfortunately, that someone was Aubrey.

“Well, I did one thing right,” Aubrey said,
her entire chest constricting. “I got you to stand up for yourself.”

Christie looked up at Aubrey, her eyes a blank slate. Was she still mad? Was she ever going to forgive her? Aubrey held her breath. And then, finally, Christie laughed.

“Yeah. I guess you did.”

Aubrey stepped forward and hugged her friend, relief coursing through her. “I’m so sorry, Christie. I didn’t realize.”

“I know. And I could have said something sooner,” Christie said.

“It’s okay. It’s
so
not your fault,” Aubrey said, leaning back. She looked at herself in the mirror above the sinks, saw her heavy eye makeup and glossy lips and sprayed hair, and didn’t recognize herself. She knew that this pageant thing wasn’t her. It had all started because she wanted to be there for Christie. But instead of being there for her friend, she had totally upset her and ruined everything.

Exactly what she had promised herself she wouldn’t do.

“That’s it. I’m dropping out of this thing,” Aubrey said. She felt her conscience resisting
even as she said it, so unaccustomed was she to backing down or letting someone else win. But she had to do it. “I’m going to go tell Fabrizia I’m out.”

She reached for the door, but Christie held on to her hand. “No! I don’t want you to do that!”

“Why not? You said yourself I’ve become a total pageant psycho,” Aubrey said, lifting a hand.

“I know, but I don’t want you to quit. Quitting a competition right in the middle would kill you,” Christie said with a knowing smile. “I just want my friend back.”

Aubrey smiled in return. “Okay, fine. I won’t quit,” she said. “But I no longer care about winning. I said I was going to help you beat Layla, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Christie’s brow knit with concern. “How? You’re not going to try to sabotage her, are you? Because I don’t think—”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. Don’t worry,” she said. “But right now I have to go apologize to Dana.”

Apologizing was never fun, but she knew she had to do it. Dana had not deserved the insane
rant Aubrey had subjected her to. Once that was done, Aubrey really had to figure out how, exactly, she was going to help Christie win with only one event left. Because if she had been perfectly honest with Christie, she would have told her she had no clue.