Beauty Queens (45 page)

“I told you to stop using that bleaching cream,” she murmured to the vast expanse above her. A Shanti-shaped cloud drifted into view, blocking the light.

“Nicole?” the Shanti-shaped cloud said. “Nicole!”

Nicole blinked. “Hey, Bollywood.”

“I’m going to let that one slide,” Shanti said with relief. “Welcome back.”

The girls and the pirates gathered on MoMo’s blinged-out yacht, huddled in blankets and towels and robes. Sinjin wore MoMo’s black leather 1968 Elvis Comeback Special jacket. It only came to his rib cage, but he wore it anyway. “Hot!” he said, waggling his eyebrows. The morning sun lit the island like a painted backdrop from an old Hollywood movie, all greens and golds, pinks and blues.

“What happened?” Nicole asked from a deck chair. Ahmed had made her a cup of tea. In shifts, the girls and pirates told the tale of what had happened. The volcano hadn’t erupted so much as burped. It was the storehouse of Lady ’Stache Off that had exploded, destroying much of the compound. The area around the volcano was a mess.

“You got, like, totally thrown by the explosion,” Shanti explained to Nicole. She hugged her. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” Nicole said, hugging her back.

“Because I totally need a place to stay in Colorado when I go skiing next spring break,” Shanti said, and the two of them burst out laughing.

“I could get used to this,” Sinjin called. He lounged on a deck chair in his MoMo find. “Yachts are the new sexy. You heard it here first.”

“Pretty sure yachts have always been sexy,” Petra said.

Ahmed sat with Shanti. “So you mixed Beena’s
⁴⁸
‘Mumbai Love Song,’
the groove from Hip-Hopera’s
La-La Boheme,
⁴⁹
and Elvis Presley? That’s dead brilliant!”

Shanti grinned. “Yeah. I think so.”

“My brother runs some clubs in London. I could get you a night. Prolly a shite time slot to start, but it’s something.”

“Okay, seriously? That would be, like, so totally awesome! I could apply to Cambridge,” Shanti said in awe. “I could apply to Cambridge and DJ in London. Yes!” Shanti frowned. “Um, no offense, but I can’t … this can’t be, like, a dating thing.”

“What? Oh. Oh! Um, no worries, mate. It’s just business. Maybe Nicole and I could come to the club, yeah?” He looked hopefully at Nicole.

“That could work,” she said, smiling.

“What about you and me, Adina?” Duff said, sidling up to her by the railing. “I know I screwed up. But do you think we could start over?”

Adina thought about everything that had happened. Part of her wanted to kiss Duff McAvoy, the tortured British trust-fund-runaway-turned-pirate-of-necessity who loved rock ’n’ roll and mouthy-but-vulnerable bass-playing girls from New Hampshire. But he didn’t exist. Not really. He was a creature of TV and her imagination, a guy she’d invented as much as he’d invented himself. And this was what she suddenly understood about her mother: how with each man, each husband, she was really trying to fill in the sketchy parts of herself and become somebody she could finally love. It was hard to live in the messiness and easier to believe in the dream. And in that moment, Adina knew she was not her mother after all. She would make mistakes, but they wouldn’t be the same mistakes. Starting now.

“Sorry,” she said, heading for the bow, where a spot of sun looked inviting. “Oh, also, about that blog? Just so you know, my dads know a lot of gay lawyers. Bitches will take your ass down if you try to publish that. Peace out.”

“Ahoy, mateys!” Mary Lou shouted as she emerged from the captain’s cabin. She wore breeches and a poufy pirate shirt. She’d tied her Miss Nebraska sash around her waist like a belt and had tied a scarf across her forehead in true pirate fashion.

“Mary Lou!” Adina waved.

“I’ve talked it over with Sinjin and the guys, and I am officially taking over command of this vessel,” Mary Lou shouted. “The Captains Bodacious have a stylin’ new boat and a bodacious new captain.”

“That is hot,” Jennifer muttered.

Adina smirked. “Wow. Kind of braggy, Novak.”

“Yeah. It is kind of braggy, isn’t it?” Mary Lou smiled. “Well. What can I say? I’m just cool like that.”

“Right on, sister.” Nicole went for a fist bump, but Mary Lou bungled it. “Man. You are still so, so white.”

“What about Tane?” Adina asked.

Tane was supervising the crates of supplies being hoisted on board.

“He’s staying with us. He’s going to teach me to navigate by the stars. He has good hands. I can tell.”

On deck, Chu stood at attention. “Queen Josephine? What course shall we set?”

“Toward adventure! And don’t drop anchor till we get there!” she called.

“Aye, aye, Captain!”

“And by adventure, I mean toward Hawaii. I’ve never been there.” Mary Lou let fly a wild wolf call. “This is soooo awesome! And we can drop you home on the way.”

Agent Jones was coming down from the Mind’s Flower now. The
pirates had thrown a blanket over him. He sat, shivering, on the deck of the yacht.

“You okay?” Jennifer asked. “You want something hot to drink?”

He nodded.

Jennifer handed him the cup. With shaking hands, Agent Jones took it and sipped. His lips twisted into a squiggle.

“Sorry. There’s no milk or sugar that I could find,” Jennifer said.

The squiggle became a smile. Agent Jones took two big gulps and leaned his head back against the railing, enjoying the breeze. The coffee was hot and strong. It was also Hazelnut.

Shanti toggled a DVD in her fingers. “One last thing to do, Teen Dreamers.”

BARRY REX: Good morning and welcome to a special edition of
Barry Rex Live.
Today, disturbing images — and even more terrifying allegations — from that Miss Teen Dream Pageant gone wrong last night. Joining us this morning is someone who has a personal investment in this terrible tragedy: our special guest, presidential hopeful Ladybird Hope. Good morning, Ladybird.

LADYBIRD HOPE: Good morning, Barry. It
is
very disturbing news. You can see in this grainy footage Republic of ChaCha soldiers, under direct orders from The Peacock himself, aiming for the girls. The explosion. What we’re hearing is that our Miss Teen Dreamers have been murdered. All of them. As you know, the Miss Teen Dream Pageant has always been special to me. I was a Miss Teen Dream. It is the ideal of femininity. This is a direct act of war, Barry, and —

BARRY REX: Excuse me, Ladybird. Looks like we’ve got some special callers on the line. Let’s go to live feed, please.

On the studio screen, the girls waved. They had gotten pretty good at waving, but they had never enjoyed it more than they did right now. Ladybird Hope broke the pen in her hand into two pieces.

BARRY REX: How about that? They’re okay!

ADINA: Hi! You would not believe the crazy night we had, Barry. What with Ladybird Hope trying to kill us and all. So, you know, sorry if we look like shit. Anyway, it’s such a long story, and we are currently on vacation, so we’re just going to leave you with this video and a PowerPoint presentation. Enjoy! Bye!

Ladybird Hope’s smile twitched at the corners as the video came over the feed. Barry Rex’s eyes widened.

BARRY REX: Well. Is that … the Republic of ChaCha?

“It’s
somebody’s
Republic of ChaCha,” a camera operator murmured.

A half hour later, as Ladybird Hope left the studio, crowds had gathered again. But they were not cheering or holding up K
EEP
A
MERICA
P
RETTY
signs. No one shot play gun fingers at her with a wink. The faces were angry. Yelling. Ladybird Hope was not enjoying this moment in the spotlight. Still, she gave them a smile and a thumbs-up. “Keep your chins up. The truth will come out.”

“The truth just did come out, you murderer!” a woman shouted.

A bonfire billowed up. Some in the crowd tossed copies of Ladybird’s book into the fire while a librarian pleaded with them not to do that and grabbed a fire extinguisher.
⁵⁰
Ladybird Hope made her way through the angry mob to her car, where two federal agents in dark suits waited for her. If she squinted, she could almost pretend they were secret service and she was the president.

It was the most highly rated Miss Teen Dream Pageant ever. Though there were only thirteen contestants, the curiosity about seeing these survivors — fanned by an Internet ad campaign that hinted at unsavory sexual secrets and possible cannibalism — drew a record number of viewers. Sadly, without continued sponsorship from The Corporation, the program was canceled and replaced with new episodes of the reality show about Amish girls rooming with strippers,
Girls Gone Rumspringa.

The media were calling LadybirdGate the sex scandal of the century. One tabloid referred to her as “Ladybird Ho.” Articles appeared in newspapers and blogs decrying the moral decay of girls in general. On TV, talking heads wrung their hands over a lack of traditional feminine values and wondered if girls’ sports were to blame. Then they cut to a commercial featuring a sexy college coed vacuuming her dorm room in her underwear.

Shanti shook her head. “All those crimes, and, like, all anybody can focus on is a sex scandal.”

“Yeah, The Corporation will probably only get a slap on the wrist and get to set up shop somewhere else. Everything’s being blamed on Ladybird. Typical.”

“She may be a D-E-W-S-H, but it’s not
all
her fault,” Tiara agreed.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet over there, New Hampshire,” Petra said.

Adina wasn’t watching the continuing coverage on the yacht’s TV. Instead, she stared out at the sea. “Just thinking about Taylor.”

Nicole put a hand on Adina’s shoulder. “Hey, you tried to find her. We all did.”

It was true. They’d gone looking. They’d searched everywhere, with no luck. What Adina hadn’t told anyone was this: As she’d passed the secret cave in the jungle where Taylor had hidden for so long, she’d found the beauty queen’s sash and dress hung neatly from a tree, abandoned. And just beyond that, she’d thought she’d seen a flash of blond hair in the trees. But then it was gone.

The newscaster’s voice whined from the TV. “Do you think these girls, these Teen Dreamers, all those things they did — and Tom, we’re hearing about wild things now — do you think it has to do with sex ed in the schools? Or are girls just getting more brazen? And what does this mean for society in general? Should we be scared of our daughters?”

“They don’t get it,” Shanti said with a sigh.

“Do you think they ever will?” Nicole asked.

“Fuck ‘em,” Sosie said. She flipped off the TV and chucked the Miss Teen Dream manual into the trash can.

From her perch in the tree, Taylor watched them go. The orphaned snake slithered down from the trees and she let it rest upon her shoulders like a beautiful, iridescent boa.

“My stars, this sure is a big mess, isn’t it?” she said, walking over the ruined land near the volcano. It wasn’t terrible, really. Just needed some elbow grease and then it would shine and sparkle like a crown. The snake nuzzled her cheek and flicked its tongue. Taylor stroked its head gently and it settled.

She had a busy day ahead. There was an island to tame. Creatures to name. A world to build.

Whatever would she wear?

OPEN ON: A group of sexy beauty queens running through the jungle, swinging on vines and knocking out ninjas. They stop beside a volcano, punch in a code on the keypad, and enter the secret compound, where they immediately go into the shower area and examine themselves in large mirrors.

Whew! This humidity sure is hard on a girl’s lips.

I’ll say. I may be a feminist fatale, but I can’t seem to do anything about these chapped lips.

Come on, girls — it’s time to slay those pooped puckers and amp up your shine with Bitchin’ Babes lipstick! Moisturizing. Vitamin-enriched. And full of shine and sparkle! This is one lipstick that can really stand up to whatever life throws at it.

CUT TO: Close-up of girl slicking a wand of gooey lip gloss over very full, collagen-enhanced lips.