I hoisted the three dresses and Elsa directed me to a real changing room. I checked: All three had thick, tank top style straps. Relieved, I tried the first on—a yellow puffy one—and came out.
“It’s your size, but not your color,” Elsa said. I didn’t think it was either. I felt like a taxi. “Try the red one.”
I’d like that dress,
Red Bathing Suit Woman said.
Matches my outfit.
Too bad,
I replied.
This is for my shape, not yours.
It was a simple design: long, bell-shaped skirt, a scoop neck, and tank straps. When I put it on, it fit.
No need for the Strapless Wonder,
I thought, relieved.
’Cause the blue floral is
so classy
under that dress,
Red Bathing Suit Woman added.
“Fine,” I muttered. As much as I hated the purchasing process of the Strapless Wonder, it did fit well. And the red dress looked even better on me once I put it on.
“Perfect,” Elsa said when I emerged from the dressing room. “You don’t need anything else. Leave your clothes in a bag back here, then off to hair and makeup. You’re with Christian. He’s”—she checked her sheet—“in the accessories department in the front left corner of the store.”
I hitched the sides of my skirt and followed her directions. As I approached the shoes, crying and shouting overpowered the store chatter. When I turned the corner, VPE Mom and Frazzled Guide were blocking the aisle.
Aren’t moms supposed to be in the audience?
I thought.
Typical
.
“My bay-be needs him,” VPE Mom wailed. “How could you let this happen! It’s the most irresponsible act. I demand that the judges be made aware of this.” She pointed her finger at Frazzled Guide, who, in spite of the hairspray, was unraveling.
“All of the judges are aware of the situation,” Frazzled Guide soothed. “We’ve made other arrangements with Sascha downstairs. Christian just wanted to be able to tell all of his clients personally.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” came Christian’s voice from the other side of VPE Mom. “I really do wish I could help out. But Sascha’s great. Your daughter is going to love her.”
VPE Mom sniffed and complained, but allowed Frazzled Guide to take her arm and escort her downstairs.
They squeezed past me, followed by Bay-be, eyes to the floor. That revealed the cause of the fuss: Christian’s right arm was in a sling.
My Makeup Magician was cursed. And so was I. I instantly developed a new appreciation for VPE Mom’s hysterics. My Husky Luck hadn’t changed after all.
“You look fabulous,” he said, sweeping me into a one-armed hug.
“What happened?” I asked, fighting the edge of panic creeping into my voice.
“Skidded on a damp towel in the salon,” he said. “Separated my shoulder.”
I winced.
“They assigned everyone a new stylist except you.” He held up his good hand when he saw my Face of Panic. “I told them not to.”
“You told them
what
?”
Great. Christian thinks it’s not worth it for me to compete.
My heart slid to my shoes.
“You don’t need Sascha,” he said. “You can do this yourself. I promised I’d show you how, right?”
“Doing my own makeup before a huge San Francisco fashion show was not how I thought I’d learn,” I responded, this time fighting Hysterical Aunt Doreen Voice.
Even with the sling, Christian’s magic was powerful. While we talked, he maneuvered me into his chair, opened his bag, and removed his hand mirror.
“Yet here we are. Are you up for it, or not?” He waited, a mischievous grin on his face, while I considered his offer. Aunt Doreen Hysterics retreated.
Why not?
I reasoned.
New Celeste has dealt with harder stuff than this
.
Red Bathing Suit Woman said,
Who knows? For her next trick, maybe she’ll let me borrow that dress.
Not likely,
I responded.
“Let’s do it,” I said, giving Christian my own devious smile.
This time, I swiped, lined, glossed, and shadowed under his direction. He pointed out which brush, wands, and colors to use, and I followed orders. It was like paint by numbers, only on my face.
“Done,” he declared, after I’d applied my second coat of mascara. “See? It’s easy.”
“Easy with you telling me how to do it,” I said. I slid off the chair and gave him a half hug. “Think I’ll just stick to lip gloss at home, though.”
“A little bit goes a long way,” he said. I blinked at him. “Rock that room, Celeste.”
Chapter 29
FRAZZLED GUIDE PACED at the front of the store, tucking loose hairs from her knot behind her ears. “Good. You’re here. Who did your makeup? Never mind. It’s time to get in line.” She hustled me out the door and downstairs to the sectioned-off backstage area.
“You’re behind Ashley. Same as last time; do you remember?” I nodded. The hair came loose again. “Okay, wait here. We start in ten minutes.”
“Who
did
do your makeup?” Gail asked. Ashley also seemed interested in my response.
“I did,” I answered. A flower of pride bloomed in my chest.
“Wow,” said Ashley. “Good for you!”
“Really? I could never do that,” Gail said.
“Of course you could,” Ashley responded. “Not that you don’t look great, Celeste,” she added in a hurry, “but . . .” And she went on, boosting Gail’s self-confidence.
Erika came by, off her crutches. “Do a head count,” she directed Frazzled Guide, who stood behind me. She waved at me. “I’m better. You?” she mouthed.
“Okay,” I mouthed back.
“And gutsy,” she added. I grinned. She grinned too, and moved on.
“Head count, head count,” Frazzled muttered. “Gail-Ashley-Celeste—where’s Rosalie? Have any of you seen Rosalie?” I shook my head along with the other girls.
“Who’s Rosalie?” Gail whispered to Ashley and me. Neither of us had any idea.
“None of you move,” Frazzled Guide said. “I’ll be right back.” She spun, and there was a sharp tug at my waist. Then a tearing sound.
It was like someone poured snow down my back.
Not the dress,
Red Bathing Suit Woman said.
Tell me it’s not the dress.
“Tell me it’s not bad, tell me it’s not bad,” I said to Ashley. I turned to show her my back, and caught a glimpse of sandy-colored boy hair beyond the backstage ropes as I did so.
She gasped. “Oh no. It must have been her heel.” I twisted and tugged on the skirt. The gaping hole where it met the bodice was as big as Couscous—too big to hide or fix in less than ten minutes.
I am never doing this again,
I thought.
“Celeste!” called a familiar voice. “Hey! Celeste!” Ben. He squirmed under the velvet ropes into the backstage area.
Don’t have time for you right now.
“What’re you going to do?” Gail said, shocked. “There’s no time.”
“Find help,” I said. I hitched up my skirt and stepped out of line. Ben followed. “Where’s Elsa?” I asked the first guide I saw.
“Audience,” she said. Then she saw Ben, and scowled. “No one allowed backstage,” she said. Another contestant caught her attention and she strode away.
“Hey Ben,” I said, searching for help over his head.
“You look great,” he said. His words did it. Tears filled my eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
I showed him the hole. “I’m trying to find someone to help me fix it or something else to wear, but I only have a couple of minutes and I don’t think that’s going to happen.” I sniffed, struggling against the tears and not wanting to ruin my makeup. “If I can’t fix it, I can’t do the show.”
Ben looked worried. Then he brightened. “Don’t cry, Celeste, I’ll get you another one. I know right where it is!”
Not knowing what he was talking about, I nodded and patted him on the head, still scanning the crowd for help. A second later, he disappeared.
The seconds crawled. Around me, contestants stood in line, wearing everything from ball gowns to basics. Guides wove in between the girls, fixing, straightening, smoothing, and counting. Familiar dance music pounded through the mall speakers. I did my best to keep my back to the ropes, pacing and trying to flag down anyone who could help. Heck, I’d even be glad to see Violet’s double-stick tape roll . . .
Why are you doing this?
Red Bathing Suit Woman asked me.
You don’t have anything more to prove. You came back, saw Christian, did your makeup. That’s it. You don’t have to go out there. Show them the torn dress and it’s done.
I’m not going to quit,
I answered.
I’m going to go through with it no matter what happens, what I have to wear, or who falls over. Stop nagging me before I change my mind.
“Whose is that?” came a guide’s voice from behind me. I spun.
“Pssst! Celeste!” A tug at my saggy skirt.
“Ben!” He was panting hard, holding the plastic-wrapped Monstrosity high above his head.
Of course! The Monstrosity!
Peach lace never looked so good. The hem dragged on the floor, but I didn’t care. “Thanks,” I said, hugged him, and took the hanger.
“I ran the whole way to the car. And I didn’t even hurt myself!”
“You rock star!” I cheered. We high-fived. He scuttled to the audience, beaming.
Where am I going to change?
I thought. There was no way I’d have time to get upstairs to the HuskyPeach, and most of the backstage area was exposed. I held the Monstrosity high and worked my way back to my line. When they saw me, Gail and Ashley waved like they were guiding a plane to its airport gate.
“Where’d you get a new dress?” Ashley hissed.
“Two minutes, everybody. Set, please,” Erika said as she navigated the crowd. “Two minutes.”
There was no place for me to change. In front of us, just above eye level, was the stage. Behind me was open floor and lots of contestants.
“Can you stand in front of me?” I asked Ashley and Gail. Other girls, in lines next to us, heard. Primped heads turned in our direction.
“What are you doing?” Gail said, but she did what she was told. Ashley too.
“Changing,” I said. No time for fancy locker room maneuvers. I pulled the plastic off the Monstrosity and hung it on the rear edge of the stage. With a tug, I unzipped the side of the red dress, stepped out of it, and stuffed it underneath the platform. Exposed, I shivered.
Please no one see me, please no one see me,
I begged in my head. Gail and Ashley provided a fairly good screen. I squirmed into the Monstrosity. When I poked my head out, I saw girls from the line to our right gaping.
“Never seen anyone change before?” I snapped. They turned away in a hurry.
Glad you’re wearing the Strapless Wonder now, aren’t you?
Red Bathing Suit Woman said.
You can thank me later.
I rolled my eyes.
“Okay, done,” I said to Gail and Ashley. They smoothed my hair, helped me straighten the Monstrosity, and we were back in line like nothing ever happened. “Thanks for being my human screen.”
“You’re welcome,” Ashley said, staring at the lace, mesmerized by the Monstrosity.
“Wow,” Gail said. “That’s, urm, quite a dress you got there.” Before I could respond, the PA system clicked on.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” came a familiar voice from the stage. “Welcome to PeachWear Industries’ Northern California Regional Modeling Challenge. I’m Violet Page, and I’ll be hosting this morning’s event.” She explained that the contestants would walk the runway, turn, and wait offstage for the Challenge winner to be announced after the judges finished scoring. As she spoke, the excitement level backstage climbed as fast as the Embarcadero’s express elevator. The lights dimmed.
I exchanged nervous smiles with Gail, Ashley, and the girls around us.
Almost done,
I thought.
The first group of girls was called to get ready. A ripple of anticipation spread through me.
No falling boxes this time,
I thought.
And a dress that fits.
Angelique did a great job with the Monstrosity. Although I couldn’t see myself in it, it felt like it was made for me. (It
was,
Red Bathing Suit Woman reminded me.) The seams didn’t pull or pinch, the sleeves were comfortable, and no pins stuck out from the bottom. But I’m sure I still looked like a lace-covered refugee from an evil pastel garden party.
Frazzled Guide escorted the second group to the stage. Each time she passed me, the sight of the Monstrosity unglued her even more—her hair frizzed and clumped out of the knot in a halo of stress. The dress horrified her, and she certainly knew it wasn’t HuskyPeach-wear, but there was too much going on for her to ask me about it. The first bunch of girls, finished, stood to the side with huge, relieved smiles on their faces. We were the third group. Frazzled Guide gave us her best Get Ready or Else look as the contestants from group two came backstage one at a time. And then they were done.
“You’re up,” she hissed. “What are you
wearing
?”
“Do you like it?” I asked, and stifled a giggle.
Gail calmly led us to the edge of the stage. This time, she was prepared. She climbed the stairs and did her walk and spin much slower than round two.
Must’ve practiced,
I thought.
Good for her.
She finished her spin and Ashley went out. I couldn’t tell if she chewed her nails.
“Good job,” I whispered to Gail when she came down the stairs.
“Go!” Frazzled Guide gave me a push to get moving.
I hitched the sides of the Monstrosity and climbed the steps to the stage. As I went up each one, the beam from the spotlight grew stronger. When I reached the top, I dropped the sides of the skirt and stepped out.
“Our next contestant is wearing—” Violet began. I kept going, passing Ashley and heading straight for the end of the runway. Cheers of “Yeah Celeste” reached me, but because of the lights, it was impossible to see more then a few feet from the edge of the stage. My cheering section remained anonymous, but I was sure I heard Ben.