The “techer” candidate, a hair technology major, made over her Pinto in the shape of a hair dryer. It was a given every year that all the “techers” would rally behind one of their own, despite the odds, and try to vote her into the Homecoming court. They were used to coming in last, so just being there was an annual triumph for them.
Then there was the skanky candidate whose float was better suited to a window display at the local Victoria’s Secret. To no one’s surprise, her date was Josh Valence. He and his alma mater were despised at Hawthorne, which didn’t matter a bit to him. He was always willing to grandstand in front of a crowd, even one that hated him.
Damen glared nastily over at the couple, especially Josh. This whole thing with Petula was really his fault. Who dumps a sick girl on her driveway and takes off, Damen thought. Petula was rarely deserving of any sympathy, but Josh made her seem like Mother Teresa.
The Wendys had no floats, just sleek matching candy-apple red, open-top sports cars, which sat vacant for the moment. They were surprisingly tasteful, but the vehicles were so much the same, you could only surmise they were intentionally planning to split the vote, thus guaranteeing Petula the top spot in the final tally anyway.
Petula opted for the subdued approach as well, except for the blazing pink color of her Corvette. She never wanted to be overshadowed by anything or anyone, even her own parade float, and the shade of the car paint had been meticulously coordinated with her dress.
Damen lifted Petula onto the backseat of the convertible and sat up next to her, smiling for the crowd, supporting her like a ventriloquist with his dummy. He gripped her elbow and lifted it, waving her arm back and forth. He began to sweat a little as real fear began to seep through the phony grin he had plastered on his face.
What if Petula actually died on the field? He would be responsible and would probably be charged with kidnapping and murder. Second-degree at least. Open and shut. The Wendys could certainly be counted on to cut a deal and testify against him, although, he thought, they would probably have enjoyed being called “accessories” in the newspaper. He would lose everything — his freedom, his future, and most importantly, Scarlet.
He imagined being featured on one of those Dateline specials where they profile criminals, prompting viewers to ask their television sets — What kind of person would do a thing like that? Despite the bout of self-recrimination, there was no turning back now. He signaled to his driver that they were ready, and the procession began. Petula’s car was last in the lineup.
Charlotte and Maddy jumped in the backseat and looked up at the couple.
“Why don’t you hop up there with them?” Maddy suggested. “Look at all these people.”
Charlotte had never seen Maddy so giddy, which was surprising since she didn’t find Maddy to be much of a people person or the sentimental type who would get off on a Homecoming parade.
“That might be fun,” Charlotte said, trying in vain to hide her eagerness. Sitting on top of the backseat with them, it was a whole new experience. The screams from the crowd, the souped-up engines roaring, horns beeping, the music blaring was all so much louder, so much more vivid. It was thrilling.
Damen proceeded to wave Petula’s arm in that generic kind of crowd-pleasing way and pasted a big perma-smile on his face. As the cars circled, Charlotte was overwhelmed by the cheers and accolades thrust from the bleachers. She didn’t need to imagine what it would be like to be in that car, next to Damen. She was there. Now.
Charlotte could barely hear the voice of her own conscience any longer. The only voice that seemed to break through the crowd noise was Maddy’s.
“It’s so amazing what he’s doing for her. He must really love her.”
“He did once,” Charlotte affirmed. “But I thought that was over.”
“You can put a stop to this, Charlotte. You can bring Petula and yourself back.”
Each girl was announced over the loudspeaker to polite applause as their car approached the stands, but the crowd erupted as Petula’s car came around the front of the bleachers. Charlotte bathed in the spotlight as Petula was introduced, her mini-bio — one Petula had clearly written herself especially for the occasion — read over the PA system:
PETULA KENSINGTON IS A RETURNING SENIOR AT HAWTHORNE HIGH.
LIKES: CHIHUAHUAS, BRAZILIAN WAXES, AND VEGGIE BUR-GERS ON FIFTEEN-GRAIN LOW-CARB BREAD.
DISLIKES: NEGATIVITY AND THE COLORS BROWN AND BLACK, ESPECIALLY WHEN WORN TOGETHER.
SHE IS THE ACTING CAPTAIN OF THE CHEERLEADING SQUAD, WHICH UNDER HER LEADERSHIP WON THE PRESTIGIOUS TRI-STATE SPIRIT AWARD. SHE HAS ALSO COMPLETED A FULL YEAR OF COMMUNITY service WITH GRACE AND DIGNITY, ROLLING UP HER THREE-QUARTER SLEEVES AND HELPING HER FELLOW MAN BY SERVING COFFEE AND BUSING TABLES. SHE CHANGED THE WAY VOLUNTEERS ARE REGARDED, STAMPING OUT PREJUDICE ONE CUP AT A TIME. ADDITIONALLY, SHE HAS LOBBIED THE LOCAL CORRECTIONS DEPARTMENT FOR MORE FASHIONABLE PRISON WEAR, COMMUNITY service ATTIRE, AND ACCESSORIES. MS. KENSINGTON PLANS ON USING THE CROWN AND HER TITLE TO RESTORE HOPE TO THE COMMUNITY AS WELL AS TO LAUNCH HER OWN CLOTHING LINE AND, IF THAT IS SUCCESSFUL, DOLLS IN HER LIKENESS.
All of Petula’s adoring fans were yelling at fever pitch, drowning out the techer and skank contingents as expected, and Charlotte was finding it just as hard to control herself. This was the kind of moment that Petula lived for, planned for. The kind of moment so powerful, so insanely ego-gratifying, that it could drag a dying girl back from the edge of the abyss, and hopefully, Damen was betting, bring her sister back with her.
“It’s now or never,” Damen yelled in Petula’s ear, loudly enough for both Maddy and Charlotte to hear.
Everything Charlotte had ever wanted was literally within her reach. Charlotte’s eyes met Maddy’s and she saw a gleam, a glee, and a scary delight in them that she’d never seen before.
“This is your time, Charlotte,” Maddy pushed even more forcefully. “You heard him, it’s now or never.”
Charlotte looked over at Damen and Petula and back to Maddy, hopelessly confused.
“But what about Scarlet?” Charlotte asked weakly.
“You’ll be doing them all a favor,” Maddy went on. “Do it. Now!”
The applause, the cheers, the revving car motors, the lights, the signs all seemed to agree with Maddy. The crowd wanted Petula back, Scarlet wanted Petula back, and from the looks of things, even Damen wanted Petula back. And she was the only one who could make it happen.
She reached slowly for Petula and placed her hand near her heart.
“Charlotte,” a desperate voice called out from across the field.
“Scarlet!” Charlotte yelled back, shocked by the sight of her friend rushing toward her.
Charlotte wasn’t sure if Scarlet was upset with her or Damen at first, but the closer she got, with Pam and Prue at her side, the clearer it became.
“What are you doing?” she screamed.
The horror on Scarlet’s face and the disappointment on Prue’s and Pam’s faces were almost too much to bear. Charlotte was speechless. Maddy, unflustered by the gang approaching, jumped to Charlotte’s defense.
“Maybe you should be minding your own business a little more,” Maddy warned, pointing to Damen’s hand around Petula’s waist.
Scarlet did glance up and was none too thrilled to see Damen so close to Petula.
“This … is not what it looks like,” Charlotte stammered. “I’m not a body whore.”
“That’s right,” Prue jumped in, explaining to Scarlet. “Charlotte’s not.”
“She is,” Pam turned and pointed accusingly at Maddy.
Maddy just smiled as the other girls glowered at her. Charlotte said nothing.
“Good luck proving that one,” Maddy laughed. “I wasn’t the one sitting up there, landsharking Petula to get Damen.”
“But you told me to,” Charlotte said to Maddy. “I was only going to do it to help… .”
Charlotte sounded unconvincing to the crew around her because she wasn’t sure herself what her motives really were anymore.
“I just wanted to do the right thing,” Charlotte babbled.
“For who?” Scarlet chided. “Me or you?”
“She didn’t come knocking on your door,” Maddy said, playing both sides.
“Don’t give me that,” Scarlet countered, scanning the field. “She wanted all … this.”
“Not so fast,” Pam interrupted. “Maddy’s been plotting this all along.”
“Bull,” Maddy argued defensively. “Charlotte’s a big girl. Don’t blame me for her decisions.”
But Pam wasn’t just speculating. She motioned to Prue that it was time to say what they knew.
“I got a call,” Prue said snidely to Maddy, “from an acquaintance of yours right after Charlotte called in sick.”
Charlotte shrugged her shoulders a little, silently acknowledging the ridiculousness of a dead girl using a sick day.
“The call was from an up-and-coming young starlet almost suicidal from guilt,” Pam picked up, “because her friend, ‘Matilda,’ died mysteriously while they were both competing for a break-out role.”
“Apparently, Maddy, as she was called, was a forgotten former child star living in Las Vegas … ,” Prue continued.
“Sin City,” Scarlet noted.
“And she was desperate to land this role,” Pam said, “to make her big comeback.”
“Comeback from where?” Scarlet bit. “I’ve never heard of her.”
“She convinced her friend they needed some underarm Botox shots, which she’d gotten on the black market,” Prue explained. “So their sweaty pit stains wouldn’t show on camera during the audition.”
“Tested on actresses, never on animals,” Scarlet said dramatically.
“Anyway, within hours of giving each other the shots,” Prue said, “Maddy came down with all the symptoms of botulism. Dry mouth, blurred vision, trouble breathing, muscle weakness. The whole deal.”
“Did the friend say if she crapped herself,” Scarlet asked, rankling Maddy. “I hear that happens too.”
“She was hospitalized and missed the audition, obviously, and her friend got the role.” Prue concluded. “Maddy died two days later from complications.”
“I don’t get it,” Charlotte asked, probing Prue for more information. “What did Maddy do wrong?”
“Her friend didn’t believe it,” Prue said, “but the police determined that the overdose injection was meant for her, not Maddy. The Wacktress mixed them up and saved her own life in the process.”
“Must have been a killer role they were fighting for,” Scarlet opined snidely.
Even in the huge, open outdoor space, Maddy felt her world closing in on her.
“Dying like that,” Prue added, “follows you forever.”
“She needed to corrupt someone else,” Pam said. “So she could …”
“Go to Hell!” Maddy said as if she just power-gargled with gravel.
“Exactly,” Prue said. “It is the only way for her to advance in her world.”
Charlotte kept her cool and listened impassively to the gossiping ghosts, processing the reveal taking place.
As they rolled slowly toward the reviewing stand like some kind of supernatural clown car, Charlotte stared over at Scarlet, who was fixated on Damen, who was gripping both Petula and the headrest of the Corvette, preparing manically for he didn’t quite know what. Charlotte could almost see the time ticking away as Scarlet’s and Damen’s pupils both widened, bigger and bigger, in response to the growing mania of the crowd and their own increasing desperation. She’d heard enough. It was time for her to come clean too. The calmness of spirit and peace of mind she’d achieved at Fall Ball last year returned to her, and Pam, as usual, was the first to notice her change in demeanor.
“You don’t look very surprised, Charlotte?” Pam asked quizzically.
“I’m not,” Charlotte said, shocking the girls around her, including Maddy. “I’ve suspected it from the beginning.”
Maddy lowered her eyes, shamed not so much at being outed as the underminer she was but at her own defeat by someone she considered so pathetic. She’d underestimated Charlotte, taking her for an easy mark.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Pam asked. “We could have gotten rid of her.”
“Keep your friends close,” Charlotte instructed, “but your enemies closer.”
“Gangsta,” Scarlet mumbled, approvingly. “You wanted to know what she was up to before you made a move.”
“Before Scarlet came, I was the only one in danger from her,” Charlotte explained. “But once she offered to come to Hawthorne, I knew Maddy wanted to take us all down.”
“She planned the whole thing?” Scarlet asked.
“Not exactly,” Charlotte explained. “At first, getting to me was enough. But the call Maddy took for me was from Scarlet,” Charlotte continued. “When she figured out what Scarlet was planning to do to save Petula, she saw a much bigger opportunity.”
“She figured Scarlet would get stuck in Dead Ed trying to cross over,” Pam nodded, everything making sense now. “Filling a seat not meant for her.”
“She would have stopped them all from being able to cross over,” Prue concurred, “taken that whole class out and kept her from reaching you.”
“But when Scarlet actually showed up,” Charlotte continued, “it changed her plan.”
“She offered to help,” Pam said, “because by convincing you to bring Petula back, she could have damned not just your soul, offing Petula’s and Scarlet too.”
“I got greedy,” Maddy said offhandedly. “Sue me.”
“You saved our lives,” Scarlet said solemnly, Charlotte’s sacrifice just beginning to sink in. “And more.”
“Wait, so you called in sick to signal us to come find you?” Pam said, putting all the pieces together.
Charlotte smiled acknowledging Pam’s theory.
“And you knew that whichever way Maddy suggested we go, I’d go the opposite,” Scarlet said.
“Yeah, I was relying on your Oppositional Defiance Disorder,” Charlotte chuckled.
“So it was all an act?” Prue asked. “Moping around, possessing Petula.”