Snow Queen (9 page)

Suddenly, Grayson stood up, straightened his jacket, and cleared his throat. “Well, I guess
I’d better go find Rose and Jim.”

A flash of panic shot through Aubrey’s chest. He
was
messing with her! He had no intention of asking her out. He’d just said that to get an apology out of her and humiliate her.

“Wait!” she said, standing up. She had to say something, anything, to save face here. Somehow make him believe that she
didn’t
want him to ask her out. But standing there in her smiley-face pajamas with her big, brown puffer jacket making her arms stick out at an angle and her hair in stupid pigtails, she couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t make her look more childish than she already did.

“Oh, right! I almost forgot,” Grayson said, taking a step toward her. “Aubrey, would you like to go out with me on Thursday night?”

Aubrey’s jaw dropped open slightly. This had to be the most confusing five-minute conversation of her life.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Seriously,” he replied.

Her mind still trying to sort out the fifteen emotions she’d just felt in succession, Aubrey struggled for the proper response.

“Um, okay,” she said finally.

“Good,” Grayson replied with a smile. He turned and walked toward the front desk, giving Jonathan a nod of greeting, but he paused before getting to the office door. He turned around and gave Aubrey a flirtatious look. “Oh, and wear your hair like that, okay? It’s beyond sexy.”

The second he was gone, Aubrey collapsed onto the couch, feeling exhausted and exhilarated all at once. Grayson had asked her out. She was going out with Grayson! He hadn’t known about his parents, and he was going to apologize, which made him a seriously standup guy—not a lying hypocrite. And he
had
been mad at her, but for the hypocrite comment, not for anything else. Everything was going to be just fine.

But one question remained.

Was he serious about the hair?

“O
n my own, pretending he’s beside me,’” Aubrey sang, staring at herself in the full-length mirror of the rehearsal room behind the amphitheater. She and Christie had booked it for one hour Wednesday morning so they could both practice their talents. Unfortunately, as Aubrey’s voice bounced back at her from the soundproof walls, she was feeling anything but talented. “‘All alone I walk with him till morning.’”

Behind her, Christie tossed her baton up in the air, tilted over to throw her leg up in a side split, then caught the baton again, between her legs. Now
that
was talent.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Aubrey said, hitting the pause button on the CD player in the corner. “I totally suck.”

“You don’t
totally
suck,” Christie replied.

Aubrey’s face burned. “But I
do
suck.”

Christie’s eyes widened. She held her baton in both hands and stepped toward Aubrey, her ballet flats soundless on the hardwood floor. “No! That’s not what I said!”

“Yes you did! You emphasized
totally
, which means I don’t
totally
suck, but I suck.” Aubrey dropped down on the floor and hung her head in her hands. “That’s it. I need to pick a different song. If I sing this, Layla and her friends are going to laugh me off the stage.”

“Please, if anything they’re going to laugh
me
off the stage,” Christie said, tossing her baton from hand to hand. “Do you think I should try the one-handed cartwheel thing? I think it could really earn me some points, and if I want to win this thing over Layla I’m going to need all the extra points I can get.”

“You mean the thing that you totally decked on during halftime at the Thanksgiving Day game?” Aubrey asked, picking at her fingernails.

“That was just one time. And I’ve been practicing a lot since then.”

Aubrey’s heart welled with sour guilt.
“Omigosh, Christie, I’m so sorry,” she said, getting up on her knees. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m all negative today. But I’m sure you can do it. Why don’t you show me?”

Christie grinned and stepped back to give herself more room. She tossed the baton in the air and executed a perfect one-handed cartwheel, then somehow caught the baton on its way down, landing in a split.

Aubrey whistled and clapped her hands. “Yes, you should
definitely
do that,” she said. “In fact, I think it should be your grand finale. That trick is going to win you the crown.”

“You think?” Christie asked, pushing herself up off the floor.

“Definitely,” Aubrey said with a nod. She sat down again and slumped back against the mirror wall. “And we should make sure that they put you on after me so that everyone in the audience completely forgets about my totally off-key song.”

“Come on. You’re not off-key,” Christie said.

“You have to say that because you’re my best friend, but we both know I’m going to be publicly humiliated,” Aubrey said, sinking lower
against the mirror. “I don’t know why I ever agreed to do this.”

“Um, because you’re a good friend?” Christie reminded her. Then, all of a sudden, her face lit up. “Wait. I have an idea. I saw it in a documentary about the making of this new musical on Broadway.”

“What is it?” Aubrey asked, lifting her head hopefully.

“Lie on your back on the floor,” Christie instructed.

Aubrey clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Come on.”

“Just try it!” Christie wheedled.

Aubrey sighed but did as she was told, hoping her red fleece V-neck didn’t get too dirty in the process, since it was one of the very few warm pieces of clothing she had. The floor was predictably cold and hard, and the back of her skull hurt just lying there. “I feel like a moron.”

“Okay, press your shoulder blades into the floor,” Christie said, ignoring her comment and hovering over her. “It opens up your diaphragm or something.”

One of the can lights in the ceiling was right
behind Christie’s head and made a little halo around her dark hair.

“Fine,” Aubrey said. She pressed her shoulder blades back and her chest did seem to open up a bit. She could even breathe better this way.

“Place your hands together in front of your heart,” Christie instructed, laying her baton aside. “Like this.”

Now the girl really looked like an angel, holding her hands flat together like she was praying.

“You’re cracked,” Aubrey said, but mimicked the pose anyway.

“Okay, sing,” Christie instructed.

Aubrey took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and started the song. “‘On my own, pretending he’s beside me…’”

She paused and looked up at Christie, who was grinning from ear to ear. “See?”

“Wow. I really do sound better.”

Someone laughed from the doorway, and Aubrey sat up and whipped around. Layla was standing there with one hand on the doorknob and one on her hip.

“Yeah, too bad you can’t lie on the stage
during the pageant. I’m sure you’d win in a landslide,” Layla said derisively.

Aubrey’s cheeks heated up and she shoved herself up off the floor. She slapped her dusty hands against her jeans, then crossed her arms over her chest. “What’re you doing here?” she asked, tossing her hair back and lifting her chin defiantly. “We have the room till ten.”

“I heard you’re going out with my brother tomorrow night,” Layla said, keeping the heavy door propped open with her foot. “I thought I told you to stay away from him.”

Aubrey tilted her head. “Yeah, I decided not to take your suggestion.”

“You might want to rethink that,” Layla said.

“Layla, we have the room until ten, so maybe you should go,” Christie said with obvious effort. It was probably the most obnoxious thing Aubrey’s sweet-as-pie friend had ever said in her life.

“Back off, Christie,” Layla snapped. “This is between me and Red over here.”

“You know what? You guys argue. I’m going to rehearse,” Christie said. She walked over to
the stereo in the corner and turned on her iPod, which was hooked up to the speakers. The dance music she’d selected for her baton-twirling act pounded through the speakers. Aubrey saw Layla checking out Christie’s act through narrowed eyes and tried to step in front of the girl to obstruct her view. Layla’s gaze flicked to Aubrey’s face.

“I’ve been nice so far in the spirit of competition and all that, but—”

“Nice? This is you nice?” Aubrey demanded with a scoff. “You have a weird definition of the word.”

“But you
really
don’t want to mess with me,” Layla said, finishing her sentence as if Aubrey had never interrupted.

Aubrey took a few steps forward, getting as close to Layla as she dared. Her competitive adrenaline coursed through her veins. “Maybe
you
don’t want to mess with me. Ever think about that?”

Layla looked at the ceiling for a moment, as if she was pondering the question. “No,” she said finally. “Actually, I haven’t.”

Then she backed up, letting the heavy door
slam right in Aubrey’s face. Aubrey’s fingers slowly curled into fists at her sides. Christie stepped up behind her.

“Aubrey, I know we’re hating the Chamberlains right now, but when it comes to Layla, we should concentrate on just beating her in the pageant,” Christie said over the music, reaching for Aubrey’s arm. “Because the girl is right, you really don’t want to mess with her.”

But Aubrey didn’t even hear her friend speak. All she could see was Layla’s imperious expression, her judgmental gaze, her obnoxious smirk.

She turned and looked at her friend, ready for war. “Oh, it is so on.”

“Just
wait
until you see my dress!” one of the girls cooed, walking past Aubrey and Christie, who were seated in two of the wooden chairs lined up along the back curtain. “It’s
gorgeous
. And one of a kind. The designer said I had the perfect model’s body.”

Aubrey groaned and looked at Christie. “We really have to do some more dress shopping. We’re running out of time and we need to find you something good.”

“I know. There are a couple more shops we can try,” Christie replied. “What about you? Have you found a new song to sing for your talent, or are you going to stick with ‘On My Own’?”

Aubrey heard the question, but it didn’t quite sink in. She was too busy looking past her friend at Grayson, who had just walked onto the stage and was now going over the programs with Fabrizia. It was slightly warmer than usual, so he was wearing a heavy wool sweater in gray with no coat, and he looked so handsome Aubrey couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

I wonder if he’s a good kisser
, she thought, her entire body warming under her layers of clothing. She still hadn’t gotten used to the cold, so for her, bundling up was necessary.
Who am I kidding? Of course he’s a good kisser. Just look at him
.

“Aubrey? Hello?” Christie said.

Grayson laughed and Aubrey’s heart fluttered.

Maybe he’ll kiss me tomorrow night
, she thought.
Maybe
I’ll
kiss
him.

“Hello? Earth to Aubrey? Are you in there?”
Christie waved her hand in front of Aubrey’s face.

“What? Oh, sorry,” Aubrey shook her head, trying to focus. “What did you say?”

Christie rolled her eyes and giggled, shoving her hands into the pockets of her white zip-front fleece. “Nothing. But you’d better lick the drool off your lips,” she joked.

Aubrey blushed. She turned her head away and surreptitiously wiped her glove across her mouth, just in case.

“Okay, my little princesses!” Fabrizia shouted, throwing her arms out and waggling her fingers. “I need my front-row girls front and center. We have a few kinks we need to work out.”

“That’s me,” Christie said.

Then she got up, took one step, and tripped forward. Aubrey jumped up to try to catch her friend, but it was too late. Christie let out a shriek and landed flat on her face.

“Christie!” Grayson shouted.

Aubrey dove to her knees next to her friend’s prone form. “Are you okay?” she asked, her heart in her throat.

Christie groaned and slowly lifted her head.
Her eyes were scrunched in pain and her cheekbone was already turning red. “Ow.”

“Where does it hurt?” Grayson asked, kneeling at Christie’s other side.

“Everywhere,” Christie said, pushing herself up slowly onto her hands and knees. Grayson lent her a hand, but as she tried to sit up, she hesitated. Her brow knit in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Aubrey asked.

“I can’t move my feet,” Christie said.

Aubrey blinked, her heart nose-diving. Was Christie seriously injured? She ducked behind her friend to take a look at her feet. Instantly, Aubrey’s face turned red with rage. The laces on Christie’s jazz shoes had been tied together. Layla. Layla must have done this. Fuming, Aubrey looked around and, sure enough, there were Layla and Rebecca, snickering by the back curtain.

Layla must have crawled up behind Christie’s chair and done this while the two of them were chatting. Apparently, Grayson was right. His sister and her friends thought Christie was their main competition, and they had decided to make her a target. Talk about immature. This
was a whole new level of low. Quickly, before anyone could see that Christie had fallen for such a lame prank, Aubrey reached down and untied the knots.

“Here. I’ll help you get up,” Aubrey said, standing and taking Christie’s hands.

Once Christie was on her feet, Fabrizia scurried up next to Grayson to inspect her. She lifted her half-moon glasses to her nose and looked her up and down as if checking for defects.

“Ah! Here is the problem! Both your shoes are untied. You must have tripped on the laces,” Fabrizia said. Christie looked down, confused, but the evidence was right there. Two completely undone laces. “All right, everyone. She’s all right! We’ll take another five so she can get cleaned up!”

From the corner of her eye, Aubrey saw Layla and Rebecca slip backstage.

“Come on,” she said, taking Christie’s hand. “I’ll help you.”

“No. It’s okay. I don’t need five minutes,” Christie said. “I’ll just tie my shoes and we can get back to rehearsal.”

“Believe me. You want to come with me,”
Aubrey said, her grip on Christie’s hand tightening. She tugged her baffled friend backstage, leaving Grayson and Fabrizia behind.

“There should be a couple of ice packs in the fridge in the office,” Grayson called after them.

“Thanks!” Aubrey shouted in return. “We’ll be right back.”

Christie followed Aubrey backstage, then wrested her hand from her grip and dropped down to tie her shoes. “What is going on?” she asked. “What’s with all the pulling?”

“Your shoelaces were tied together,” Aubrey told her, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked down at the top of Christie’s head. “Layla and her little friend did it.”

“What?” Christie looked up, her eyes wide with shock. “Who does something like that?”

“Total bitches,” Aubrey replied.

Christie stood and Aubrey led her behind the curtain, where they found Layla and Rebecca giggling together on their way to the bathroom in the wings. They stopped in their tracks the second they saw Christie and Aubrey, then instantly cracked up laughing all over again.

“How’s your face?” Layla asked Christie, a
tear of mirth squeezing from the corner of her eye.

“It’s…fine,” Christie stammered.

“Despite your attempt to rearrange it,” Aubrey said, standing between Layla and Christie. “You could have really hurt her.”

“Please. I just wanted to remind Christie who her competition is,” Layla said, glancing past Aubrey at Christie. “And show her that I’m not taking any prisoners.”

Aubrey scoffed. “What did she ever do to you?”

“She’s trying to win
my
pageant,” Layla replied.

“So are a dozen other girls. Why not attack them?” Aubrey asked.

A flash of uncertainty lit up Layla’s eyes and Aubrey felt a little thrill go through her. She had her answer. Layla was
really
intimidated by Christie. She was scared that Christie could actually beat her.