though he is
probably dead
My parents (okay, thatâs two)
Mr. Brawley, principal of Frog Level Elementary School
Type of Talent:
too many to list!
PAGEANT RULES:
If you are performing a musical talent,
bring your own music
Off-the-rack dresses for Appearance,
sportswear for athletic Talent
No pageant attire!
Judgesâ decisions are final
Stealing the Deal
âW hat do you mean?â I asked, looking up at the woman. I didnât really want an answer, but since she was butting in, she owed us an explanation.
âBeauty pageants arenât so easy to ace,â she replied. âDonât roll your eyes at me, missy. I know what Iâm talking about.â
â You were in a beauty contest?â I said in disbelief.
âI used to model. Same difference.â
If my jaw hadnât been hinged to my skull, it would have dropped in my lap. Even I knew that models were pretty and skinny. This frizzy-haired old woman was built like a fire hydrant. Her pudding-plain face was studded with little raisin eyes and a blobby nose. Maybe she once modeled Halloween masks.
The woman started to heft her bags again. âLaw, I do it every time. Come up here to pick up one or two things and wind up with more than I can tote.â
âWeâll help.â Lacey Jane leaped to her feet, tossing her Slurpee cup in the trash. âRebel, you take this one.â She gave me a bulging sack apparently filled with plutonium bricks. The other bag had a loaf of Wonder bread peeking out the top.
I was brimming with questions, but followed the woman down Greycliff Road. Who was she? And why was she wearing gloves? Was she a cat burglar? I could see her knocking over candy stores easier than I could picture her modeling dresses.
âMiz Matthews,â Lacey Jane said. She sounded respectful. Not at all like her usual prickly self. âYou shouldnât be walking in this heat. How come you donât drive a car?â
âI canât see like I did.â She chuckled. âViola Sandbanks would carry me to the store any time I want. But she runs on about Palmer and the mailman so, I forget what Iâm going after.â
âWhoâs Viola Sandbanks?â I asked. âWhoâs Palmer? And who are you ?â
âLands, this heatâs made me overlook my manners. Iâm Miss Odenia Matthews. Youâre the little sister of the lady who rents Mr. Shifflettâs mobile home.â
â Younger sister,â I corrected. âRebel McKenzie. What about this Palmer and the mailman?â
âYouâll meet them tomorrow afternoon,â said Miss Odenia. âWell, not Mr. Beechley because he has his route and wouldnât come on a bet. Heâs so terrified of Palmer Sandbanks, he just throws the mail in our boxes all mixed up, and I have to stand there and sort it out. I donât want anyone to think I receive those racy lingerie catalogs.â
âTomorrow afternoon?â I felt mixed up myself. Tar blisters rose like soup bubbles, and haze shimmered over the road like a mirage.
I donât know why Lacey Jane was so worried about the old woman walking in the heat. Miss Odenia strode ahead like Grant taking Richmond. Her white blouse was freshfrom-the-dryer crisp. Pit stains soaked my T-shirt clear to my kneecaps.
Even Rudy noticed. âYou need some be-odorant. Get it? B.O.?â
âWhen the feeling comes back in my hands, Iâm going to swat you one.â
Miss Odenia frowned at me. âThatâs the very thing Iâm talking about. If you girls are serious about this beauty pageant, you must speak politely. And you canât gallop onstage and carry on like hoydens.â
Hoydens! What a funny word! I giggled.
Miss Odenia froze me with a Look scarier than the Squint-eye my mother used. Mama could take Look lessons from this old lady.
âYou wonât be judged just on appearance, but also personality,â she went on. âYou
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