"Okay," I replied.

I stood at the entrance to Claire and Margo's room. I swear, I thought an earthquake had hit. Hair ribbons and shoes and socks and barrettes and rubber bands were everywhere. The girls were trying to rehea.r.s.e in the middle of the mess. The only good thought that came to mind was that, by the afternoon, the pageant would be over.

"What is going on?!" I exclaimed.

Claire and Margo ran to me.

"Oh, you're here!" cried Claire.

"Mommy said to get all our stuff together," Margo tried to explain. "And we were nervous. And we didn't want to forget anything, and . . ."

It took almost an hour, but Mrs. Pike and I managed to get the girls organized. First we dressed them in jeans and T-shirts for all the pre-pageant stuff. Then we laid out their outfits separately and put each one in its own bag - except for the dresses, which we placed on hangers to try to keep them neat.

"What else do we need?" asked Mrs. Pike, looking around.

"Curling iron!" I said.

We remembered a few more items, put them in yet another bag, and were on our way to the high school. Mrs. Pike drove us. As we traveled through town I kept saying things like, "Remember to smile - all the time," "Remember to give nice answers to the questions," and "Don't worry if you forget your lines while you're performing. Just start over again or make something up. That's the professional thing to do."

Mrs. Pike dropped us off in front of the high school with her own set of reminders for the girls. She and the rest of the Pikes wouldn't see Claire and Margo again until the show started.

"We'll sit as close to the front as we can!" Mrs. Pike called as she pulled into the street.

The girls and I struggled into the high school building with our bags. Someone showed us to the auditorium, and we walked through a doorway labeled Stage Door.

Chaos. Pure chaos.

There were going to be fifteen contestants in the pageant, and most of them seemed to have arrived already. Backstage was a sea of little girls waiting to be told what to do. Some were rehearsing, some were checking their wardrobes, some were patiently having their hair curled or braided or brushed.

Claire and Margo immediately panicked.

"Look at that girl!" exclaimed Margo in a loud whisper. "She's wearing nail polish. Dawn."

"That girl has makeup on!" Claire added, not even bothering to whisper.

"Hey, there's Myriah," said Margo. She pointed across the room. "Look. She's tap dancing. And she's good! I mean, she's really goo - Oh, no! Oh, no, Dawn! Oh, no!"

"What! What?" I cried.

"Did you remember my banana?"

"Yes, It's in the bag with your painter's pants. Now will you two please calm d - "I stopped when someone tapped me on the shoulder. "Yes?" I said, turning around.

Behind me stood a stout woman with iron-gray hair piled high on her head. She was holding a clipboard. "h.e.l.lo," she said warmly. "I'm Patricia Bunting, the pageant coordinator."

"Hi," I replied, shaking her hand. "I'm Dawn. This is Claire Pike and this is Margo Pike."

"Wonderful," said Ms. Bunting. She handed me a list. "Here's the order in which the contestants will appear onstage in each portion of the show. The order - youngest to oldest - will remain the same, so be sure Claire and Margo know whom to follow. As soon as everyone has arrived, I'll talk to the contestants. I'll explain how the pageant will run, and then I'll show them the stage. Mothers and big sisters will wait right over there," she went on, indicating an area in which folding chairs had been set up.

Claire and Margo looked at me, and we smiled. Ms. Bunting thought I was their sister!

Ms. Bunting walked away, and I sat the girls down so we could study the list together. "Let's see," I said. "Claire, you're near the beginning. You'll always go on stage right after Myriah. And Margo, you're sort of near the middle. You'll always go on right after Sabrina Bouvier."

"Right after who?" exclaimed Margo.

"Shh," I said. "A girl named Sabrina Bouvier."

Margo looked frantically around the backstage area. Her eyes traveled over Myriah, Charlotte, Karen, and several other contestants, and landed on the girl who was wearing the makeup (and plenty of it, I might add).

"That's her," said Margo fiercely. "I just bet that's her. Who else would have a name like Sabrina Bouvier?"

I didn't have an answer to that. Besides, I was trying to size up Claire and Margo's compet.i.tion. There was Myriah, tapping away as Mary Anne watched her. Mary Anne looked exhausted but approving. No doubt about it, Myriah really was good. Her talent was true talent, not just some little act thrown together for the pageant. And there was Karen, looking awfully pretty. Kristy was nervously brushing her hair. And there was Charlotte, simply looking scared to death. She and Claudia were standing around awkwardly, almost as if they didn't even want to be there.

I caught Claudia's eye and we waved.

The girls waved to Charlotte and then ran over to her.

I followed them. "Hi," I said to Claud. "How are you doing?"

"Nervous. I'll be glad when this is over. It was a bigger deal than I thought it would be. How about you?"

"I'm a little nervous."

"I'm a lot nervous," I heard Margo tell Charlotte.

"I wish I'd never said I'd do this," Charlotte replied.

A new voice spoke up. "I can tell you how to get rid of the Pageant Jitters forever," it said, sounding as if it were reciting something from a TV commercial.

The voice belonged to the girl with the makeup.

"You can?" said Claire, Margo, and Charlotte in unison.

"Certainly. It would be my pleasure."

I glanced at Claudia. Who was this kid? She was about Margo's age, but she looked and acted twenty-five.

"How do you know how to do that?" Margo asked. "By the way, my name's Margo."

"I'm Sabrina," said the girl, and Margo shot me a look that plainly said, "I told you so."

Sabrina curtsied daintily. "So very pleased to meet you," she said in this funny, false voice. "This is my sixth pageant. That's how I know about the jitters." She was showing the girls some relaxing breathing exercises when a woman wearing tons of jewelry and even more perfume approached us. Her perfume reached us before she did.

"Come along, Sabrina," said the woman. "I want to try to introduce you to the judges."

Sabrina smiled sweetly at the other girls. "This is my mother. I really must run," she said. "There's always so much to do before a pageant. I do wish you the very best of luck."

Charlotte and the Pikes stared after Sabrina as Mrs. Bouvier whisked her away.

"Do you know what that was?" Claudia whispered to me. "A pageant-head, that's what. A poor kid who gets roped into any beauty contest or pageant that comes along. Her whole life is one big smile."

"She's not that pretty," I pointed out.

"And maybe not very talented," added Claudia. "But she knows pageants - or her mother does - and she knows what the judges like."

I was about to say that Sabrina's life might be one big smile, but it must be awfully boring, when Ms. Bunting clapped her hands together loudly. It vas time for her to talk to the excited contestants. The girls gathered around her, and the rest of us drifted toward the folding chairs.

I sat with Claudia, Mary Anne, and Kristy, but none of us said much. We were getting awfully nervous. A whole bunch of b.u.t.terflies were flapping around in my stomach.

I watched the girls as Ms. Bunting spoke earnestly to them.

I watched Sabrina's mother and some other mothers. While most of the mothers chatted or poked through their daughters' bags of clothing, Mrs. Bouvier glued her eyes on poor Sabrina and watched her intently.

Finally Ms. Bunting led the girls onto the stage. As soon as they were out of sight, the rest of us relaxed a little.

"Myriah looks good," I said to Mary Anne after a few minutes.

"Thanks," she answered. "She's rehea.r.s.ed endlessly. She nearly had a heart attack this morning, though. She lost another tooth. It shook her up a little. I hope it won't break her concentra - "

Ms. Bunting and the girls returned and Ms. Bunting raised her voice. "The pageant will begin in exactly half an hour," she announced. "It's time to get ready for the first event of the afternoon - the introduction to the judges and the audience."

Claire and Margo ran to me.

"Time to get dressed! Time to get dressed!" cried Margo.

"I'm Popeye the sailor man!" added Claire.

I produced the girls' bags, and they began to change their clothes.

In just a few short hours, one of the girls now getting dressed backstage would be crowned Little Miss Stoneybrook.

Chapter 14.

As you can probably imagine, the talent show was the best part of the Little Miss Stoneybrook pageant, so I'll mostly tell you about that, but I won't leave you in the dark about the rest of it.

Picture this: You are backstage with a bunch of nervous mothers (or baby-sitters) and an even more nervous bunch of overdressed little girls. A heavy curtain separates you from an auditorium full of people - mostly the families and friends of the overdressed little girls. The curtain also separates you from the stage, on which is now standing an announcer who is saying, "Welcome to the first annual Little Miss Stoneybrook pageant, sponsored by the friendly folks at Dewdrop Hair Care, hair products for today's youth."

"What about next week's youth?" Kristy whispered to me.

I tried not to giggle.

The announcer went on to tell the audience how the pageant would work and how the judges would score the contestants. Then he introduced the judges (the owner of Bellair's Department store, the woman who ran the Stoneybrook Dancing School, and some doctor). After that, the head judge, a woman named Mrs. Peabody, joined him on the stage. Mrs. Peabody had once owned a charm school. Finally he said, "I'd like to send heartfelt good wishes to each and every little miss who is backstage right now."

"Oh, gag me," whispered Kristy.

Somehow, now that we were actually at the pageant, and it was as stupid as Mallory and Jessi had said it would be, I didn't feel quite so serious or compet.i.tive. I could tell Kristy didn't either. I was glad for that.

"The girls have worked hard," the announcer continued, "and I wish we could crown them all. Unfortunately, only one little miss will go on to Stamford to partic.i.p.ate in the county pageant. She will receive a one-hundred-dollar savings bond and, of course, will be our grand winner. We will also select a first and second runner-up. The second runner-up will be awarded a fifty-dollar savings bond, and the first runner-up will be awarded a shopping spree in Toy City."

"Oooh," sighed every single contestant and every single child in the audience. I had to admit that the Toy City spree seemed like a pretty good prize. Even I would have liked it. I could get great stuff for our Kid-Kits.

"And now," the announcer continued, "it's time to meet our lovely contestants." He paused while somebody somewhere stuck a ca.s.sette in the stereo system, and a recording of marching music blasted into the auditorium, then was quickly turned down.

"All right, girls," said Ms. Bunting softly.

The contestants were lined up in their age order, and one by one, Ms. Bunting aimed them onto the stage, leaving just enough time for each to say her name and age, then curtsy and shake Mrs. Peabody's hand before sending the next one out.

There were three little girls in front of Claire. Just as I heard Myriah greeting the audience, I saw Ms. Bunting send Claire onto the stage. I didn't have a very good view of her, but I could hear her all right and this is what she said: "My name is Claire Pike and I'm five years old. . . . Oh, hi, Mommy! Hi, Daddy! Hi, Mallory! Hi - "

The announcer prodded Claire toward Mrs. Peabody, but Claire forgot to greet her and walked right offstage.

I groaned. Mary Anne, standing nearby, reached out and squeezed my hand. I looked at her gratefully.

Margo did better than Claire. She remembered everything, but she was nowhere near as dazzling as Sabrina Bouvier, who had been onstage just before her. Sabrina looked as if she might have been born on a stage. She smiled glamorously at the audience and the judges, curtsied prettily, and shook Mrs. Pea-body's hand smoothly.

Okay, I thought, after all the little girls had been introduced. So Sabrina was gracious and sophisticated. So what? She might not have any talent at all. Or maybe she'd be really, really stupid and not able to answer her question. I didn't have much time to think about that, though. The talent show was beginning and I had to help Claire and Margo into their costumes.

Backstage was a madhouse. All around us were cries of, "My socks! Where are my socks?" or "Help! Fix my hair!" Here and there were little bursts of song. Not far away, I could hear Charlotte muttering something about giant blueberries and a girl named Violet.

I managed to get Claire into her costume just as the first contestant was winding up her rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner," which she was singing in a red, white, and blue sequined leotard. She had a terrible voice, like fingernails on a blackboard. (Claudia and 1 looked at each other and giggled.) Then I helped Margo with her painter's pants and handed her the banana.

The second contestant, who had sung a song which she'd written herself called "I Love My Dog," ran offstage - and Myriah ran on. She was wearing a pink leotard, a pink tutu, and her tap shoes, and she was carrying a gigantic lollipop. She looked calmly at the audience. Then out came her voice, clear and loud: "On the goo-oo-ood ship Lollipop ..." And her feet went tappety-tappety-tap. I was extremely impressed. She looked like she should be on TV or something. When she was done the audience applauded loudly. They even cheered and whistled. Myriah smiled toothlessly and ran off. She was a hit.

"And now, Little Miss Claire Pike!" cried the announcer.

"Go on, Claire," said Ms. Bunting.

"I don't wanna," whimpered Claire, but she went anyway.

For a moment, she just stood on the stage in her sailor outfit. I thought maybe she had succ.u.mbed to stage fright, but at last she whispered, "I'm Popeye the sailor man."

"Louder!" I called to her.

Claire raised her voice. She finished the song and danced the hornpipe. She looked totally uninspired. But then she began the song again, this time with the gestures. When she made her first face, the audience laughed. Claire hammed it up. The audience laughed harder. Claire hammed it up even more. We had a comedienne on our hands.

Kristy flashed me the thumbs-up sign and I grinned.

After Claire came a girl who played the piano (sort of), and a girl who tried to twirl a baton but kept dropping it. Then Karen Brewer, looking beautiful, ran onstage wearing the exact same outfit she had worn when she was the flower girl in her father's wedding. What, I wondered, was Karen going to do? Sing a love song or something? No. She opened her mouth and let loose with, "The wheels on the bus go round and round." She sang fifteen verses, most of which she must have made up herself, possibly right there on the stage. Verses like, "The people on the bus are tired and hot . . ."or "The dog in his carrier says, 'Let me out!' ..." The judges began to look at their watches.

Kristy and I looked at each other and shrugged. We weren't sure how Karen had done.

Two more girls performed, one of whom, a ballerina, was pretty good. Then Sabrina Bouvier made her entrance. I am not kidding - she was wearing a long black evening gown and white gloves that went up over her elbows. Her hair was piled onto her head like Ms. Bunting's. She sang some song I'd never heard of called "Moon River."