The Contest by Caroline Stellings

Author:Caroline Stellings
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, JUV000000
Publisher: Second Story Press
Published: 2009-08-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Rosy figured the fact she caught it before more than a few drops fell had probably saved her from a jail sentence, since she could never have repaid that kind of money.

Seeing as the smidgen of ylang-ylang that she did spill probably cost at least twenty dollars, Rosy wiped it up fast and wiped it out of her mind forever. What she couldn’t erase was the fact that Tiffany was in the next room. Rosy wasn’t in the mood for another confrontation.

Tiffany, completely relaxed in a lounge chair and propped up with overstuffed velvet cushions, had a steaming white towel over her face (thank heavens) and a woman working away at her nails.

Rosy listened as she rambled on to the manicurist.

“Tricia, you’re going to have to work faster. I’ve got to be at the stadium by noon to get an interview with that new coach. I don’t even have time for my highlights today, but I’ll need them done soon.” Then she muttered something about meeting Lydia’s father that evening.

Considering her options, Rosy thought it best to stay out of sight, finish filling the vials, then disappear when Tiffany was looking in the other direction.

She had just put away the last bottle when Matilda called her into the next room – the room in which Tiffany was having a mud-pack glopped onto her face. “Do you mind cleaning up this mess for me? You’ll find a mop and pail in the closet…right over there.”

The mess to which she referred was the goo that had dropped off Tiffany’s face. Since there was still a towel covering Tiffany, Rosy reckoned she’d clean up the mud quickly, then get out of sight once and for all.

Suddenly she heard Tiffany say, “Her dad will love it if I help her win. I’m going to do everything I can to see that Lydia does win this Anne contest. She’s certainly homely enough. That Indian girl doesn’t stand a chance. I can’t imagine an aboriginal Anne.”

Rosy’s chin dropped and her heart thumped inside her chest like it was a bass drum.

The manicurist finished with Tiffany’s nails and signaled for another woman to continue on her face. Once Tiffany had cucumber slices on her eyes, Rosy figured she’d better get out of the salon while the going was good.

She wasn’t sure if a person could see through cucumber slices or not and didn’t want to take any chances. So she snatched a towel from the storage room, put it over her head, and waited for an opportunity to escape without being seen. When the phone rang, and Matilda went to answer it, Rosy made a mad dash for the front door and down the street.

All the way home on the bus, Rosy thought about what Tiffany had said about her. That she didn’t have a prayer when it came to winning the contest.

For a minute, Rosy wondered if she was right.

Maybe it was the silliest thing on earth: a Native girl believing she could be Anne of Green Gables.

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