High Heels and Lipstick (24 page)

Okay, so you can't sneer words. But that was sure what it sounded like.

I stumbled and almost fell. Holly grabbed my arm and steadied me. The caveman who'd shoved me blew past in his letter jacket, surrounded by his pack, laughing and calling insults over their shoulders.

“You okay, Evan?” Holly looked at me with concern in her brown eyes. “Don't let them get to you.”

“Yeah, because it's very easy to ignore Neanderthals.” I took a deep breath and clenched and unclenched my fists a couple of times. Visions of pounding the caveman's face into oblivion danced through my head, cheering me somewhat. I could never pull it off, of course. Jim Frankel was twice my size, even though my brain was at least four times the size of his. If I ever tried to fight him, someone would end up peeling me off the bottom of his shoe.

“Nice scarf, Evan,” some other guy called on his way out the door. His buddies all laughed too.

I chose to take it as a compliment. My fashionable pink scarf
with the glittery threads running through it
was
nice, in my opinion. “Thanks, sweetie,” I replied.

If the guy and his pals heard, they ignored me.

Holly and I finally got out of the torture chamber known as high school and headed down the stairs to Main Street. “You're really brave,” she said. “Every day, people dump their crap on you, and every day you keep being yourself. I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks.” She'd been saying that to me since fifth grade, the first time I'd gone to school wearing black nail polish. Black was sort of acceptable for guys. The few goth guys in our town wore black nail polish, and sometimes even eyeliner and/or mascara. They probably got flak for it too, but people didn't mess with them much. Those guys were badass.

They saved that all for me, especially since eighth grade when I'd switched to nail polish in prettier colors like red, pink, or my personal favorite, turquoise.

“Did you DVR that show?” Holly asked.

“Unless Mom canceled the recording.” I smiled. My favorite TV reality show aired on Monday nights. I didn't get to watch it when it was on, because Mom
had
to see the next installment of whatever interchangeable ensemble crime drama aired at that time, so I'd set up a series recording on our DVR.

It was just as well that I watched it after school on Tuesday afternoons. Mom wouldn't have understood why I was so interested in a drag queen competition. I certainly couldn't tell her it was because I wanted to be a drag queen when I grew up.

Holly and I trudged the mile to my house, ignoring catcalls from passing cars driven by our schoolmates. We lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone else. Half the people in town were third- or fourth-generation residents, and a few families went back even further than that. Holly's mother and mine had grown up here. My mother had left town for college and had returned after divorcing my dad. Holly's mother, my aunt, had married her high school sweetheart and had never dreamed of living anywhere else.

To me, the only good thing about our town was its proximity to the city, a quick train ride away. The city had an active drag bar scene, and I planned on checking it out as soon as I was old enough to walk through the doors.

Mom and I lived in a two-bedroom apartment on the first floor of a house that had been in the same family for three generations. The apartment had its own entrance and a tiny little porch. Today, a brown box sat on the porch.

A moment of worry hit me. One of the idiots from school might have planted a bomb. Or left me a pile of dog crap. It wouldn't have been the first time that had happened.

Then I remembered I'd won something in an online auction a few weeks earlier. Something that allegedly had belonged to the host of the drag queen show I liked. Maybe it had finally arrived. My heart beat faster. I might have finally gotten something from Queen Regna!

Holly picked up the box and squinted at the return address because she wasn't wearing her glasses. I'd heard a few arguments between her and her parents about the issue. They wanted her to wear the glasses she had, and she refused because they wouldn't buy her glasses she considered fashionable. My cousin had adopted my taste in fashion after seven years of being around me every day. She wanted rhinestones; her parents were only willing to buy her black plastic frames.

“It's from somewhere in Idaho,” she said. “And it's addressed to you. Who do you know in Idaho?”

“I don't know anyone, but I bought something from someone there.” My heart beat faster. Idaho had been listed as the location of the online seller I'd won the item from. It was my prize! I took my house keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door. “Bring it in and I'll open it.”

Holly followed me inside. “It's really light. There might not even be anything in here.”

“There is.” Fate wouldn't be cruel enough to deny me my prize.

She set the box on the coffee table and shrugged her backpack off her shoulders. “Freaking thing weighs a ton. I have homework in all of the classes I had today.”

“You don't have English or Spanish tomorrow.” Our school's schedule was probably the most confusing ever. We had seven classes total, but only took five per day, which meant each day there were two subjects left over. Those two became our first and second period classes the following day, followed by the first three we'd had the previous day. It was so messed-up that the administration kept a schedule posted on the glass wall of the main office, and teachers had to check it out as often as students did.

“I still want to get the homework done. I want to leave time for the history project.” She sat on the couch. “After we watch your show, will you help me with the psychology homework?”

“Sure.” We shared most of our classes, and she came over pretty much every day so we could do our homework together. Our parents all worked in the city and didn't get home much before six, and Holly and I preferred having someone else to hang out with instead of each going home alone.

“Cool.” She stood again. Holly didn't do well staying in one spot. “Okay if I grab a soda?”

“Yeah. Get me one too, please.” I picked up the box and shook it. Nothing rattled, and the box was incredibly light. That led me to believe it really was the item I'd been waiting for. I wanted to rip the box open and find out, but I was considerate enough to hold off until Holly came back to the room. She was the only one who knew what I'd won in that auction, even though she didn't believe it was actually what was advertised, and she deserved to see it.

She came back with two cans of the diet soda my mother bought because she believed it was healthier than regular soda. I took one can, and Holly sat down with the other and took a long drink. I didn't open my can, just stood there practically vibrating with impatience.

Finally she put the can down on the coffee table. “I've been dying of thirst all day. They're never going to fix that water fountain in the science wing.”

“Of course not. That would mean spending money on something that might benefit the students.” Our school's budget problems were the stuff of legend. “Can I open my package now or do you have a few other things to do first?”

“Soooorry,” she said, dragging out the word. “I didn't mean to interfere with your special little box. Go ahead and open it. I want to see if you actually got what they promised.”

“Of course I did.”

I tried to rip open the package, which was no easy feat since the sender had used enough tape to wrap around my town two or three times. After a minute or so I gave up and went into the kitchen for the heavy-duty scissors. When I went back to the living room, Holly was digging around in her backpack. I cleared my throat and she pushed the backpack away. “What was I supposed to do, just sit here and wait?”

“Yes.” I sat beside her and started cutting through the tape. “You're my cousin and accomplice. You're supposed to be supportive.”

“I don't see how just sitting here staring into space while you found the scissors would have been supportive, but okay.” She leaned back. “Let me know if you ever actually get it open.”

“It is open.” I yanked and the package finally ripped. Inside was exactly what I'd been hoping to see.

I pulled it out and reverently cradled it in both hands. “The feather boa Queen Regna wore on the season premiere last year.”

“It's a blue feather boa,” Holly said. “There are probably tons of those. There's no guarantee that's actually the one Queen Regna wore.”

“The auction blurb said it is.” I held it up to study it more closely. The royal blue feathers were tipped with tiny, sparkling blue beads. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I'd drooled over it when I'd seen it on Queen Regna the year before, and now I actually held it in my own two hands.

“How the heck would someone from Idaho get Queen Regna's real boa?” Holly's voice dripped with skepticism. The girl didn't take anything at face value, and she didn't trust most people any further than she could have thrown our school.

I was darned if I'd let her harsh my mood. “Maybe she sent it to them. Maybe they won it. You know she and her queens do all those charity things, so maybe the person who sold it to me got it from a charity auction. I don't know, Holly. It sure looks like the one Queen Regna wore, and I believe it's the one Queen Regna wore, so how about you stop trying to make me believe I couldn't possibly own anything that special and just let me enjoy this?”

“Take it easy, dude.” She sat up and picked up her soda can again. “Look, you know those online auction sites can be pretty sketchy sometimes. I agree it looks like Queen Regna's boa, as much as I can remember it from over a year ago. I just don't want you to think it's something awesome and then have your hopes smashed against a rock.”

“You're the only one smashing my hopes right now, Hol, so please give it up.” I stood and wrapped the boa around my neck. The feathers tickled my skin and I fidgeted a little, trying to lessen that sensation. I planned on wearing the boa to school the next day, and it wouldn't be good if I sat in class all day squirming and twitching because of tickly feathers.

I adjusted it and then felt more comfortable, so I struck a pose, one hand on my hip, the other in the air like the pose Queen Regna took each time she walked out onto her show's runway. “What do you think, darling?”

“Simply smashing.” Holly giggled. “All you need is a wig.”

“That's the next purchase.” Months ago, I'd checked out the wig site mentioned on the drag show and had suffered moderate sticker shock at the cost of the wigs on it. Since then, I'd been saving my meager allowance and the money I got for Christmas and my birthday. At least, I'd been saving it when I hadn't had anything else to spend money on. My hope was that by summer, I would have enough to buy the wig I most wanted, a wavy caramel-colored one that would look perfect exactly as it was while I learned to style it. The hair came long and straight but could be put into braids or buns or curlers or whatever the wearer wanted to do with it, and I wanted to teach myself to do the more elaborate styles that the queens on TV wore on top of their heads.

Holly shook her head, grinning. “When you're famous and doing drag shows in all the big cities, you'll still remember your little cousin from back home, right?”

“Unquestionably.” I gave her a hug. She sneezed. “I would never forget my cousin, unless you leave snot on my boa.”

“The feathers tickled my nose.” She pushed me away. “Take it off and let's watch the show. We need time to do our homework before I leave.”

“Take it easy, dude,” I said, mimicking her tone. I took off the boa and carefully placed it back in the box. I would have to put it in my room before Mom came home. She tolerated my nail polish because she was still convinced it was a stage I'd outgrow. I doubted she'd be as calm about my owning a feather boa, let alone wearing it.

I sat beside Holly again and turned on the TV. Fortunately, the show had recorded. Sometimes it didn't. Sometimes I was sure Mom canceled the recordings when I wasn't looking, even though she denied doing any such thing. This time, it was there. I pressed Play, and away we went.

I'd watched the show since its second season, when our cable system finally added the network it appeared on. This was the fourth season, and as far as I was concerned it was the best yet. All the queens were original and unique, and all of them brought something new to the group. Especially Taffy Sweet.

I was halfway in love with Taffy Sweet. As a man, he was gorgeous. Blond hair so close to white that I suspected it was bleached, usually in a spiky style that made my fingers itch to touch it. I was pretty sure his eyes were blue, though the lighting used in the confessionals made it hard to tell. I couldn't deny my attraction to him.

And as a queen, she was just plain beautiful, though sometimes in unconventional ways. Some of her costumes took goth up to eleven, going above and beyond the types of things even the hardcore goths at my school wore, while others were so frilly and poufy they practically gave me high blood sugar. That was the main reason I was rooting for her to win. The other queens were pretty much one-note. Taffy proved every week that she could change herself to match her mood or the moods of the judges.