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thought. “Just get on the hair.”
    I grabbed a wad of hair on my girl and combed it backward at the root, lifting it away from her scalp in a haphazard manner. Then grabbed the next and did it again. Gertie looked over and raised her eyebrows.
    “Are you sure about that?” she asked.
    “I saw it online. Trust me.”
    She didn’t look convinced, but went back to wrestling her girl’s hair into a ponytail. I made quick work of my girl’s hair, which now blossomed out from her head in giant puffy waves. It needed color, but I didn’t have time to dye it, so I grabbed colored ribbons and attached it with barrettes so that a rainbow of colored ribbons wove around the tangled waves. It would have to do.
    Her skin didn’t have the pasty white tone I’d seen in the photos, but black eyeliner would still show up on tanned skin. So I grabbed the pencil and went to work. Her eyebrows were already dark, but not big enough or dark enough. I drew a thicker box around them and started coloring. Then a dash of red for the checks, thick red for the lips, and dark gray for the eyes and I was done.
    Ida Belle sat down the blow-dryer and frowned at her girl’s hair, which now resembled a black haystack. I swear the woman was creating more work. She reached for a brush and I cleared my throat.  
    “Ida Belle,” I interrupted her before she could do more damage. “I saw some party trays when we came in with pepperoni on them. Can you bring one over, please?”
    “You want to eat? Now?” She looked over at Gertie, who shrugged.  
    “Just do it,” I said. I didn’t have time to explain my genius. Ida Belle would just have to see it along with everyone else. She whirled around and stalked across the room to grab a party tray, then stalked back, grumbling all the way, and shoved it at me, over the girls’ heads. I put the tray on the table, grabbed a stack of pepperoni and a stapler and went to work.
    Ida Belle’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. For the first time since I’d known her, she was speechless. I smiled. All that worry they’d had over me and a beauty pageant and I was so good I’d scared the words right out of her.  
    “Oh my God! Stop! What are you doing?” Pansy’s frantic, shrill voice sounded behind me.
    “I’m making her costume,” I said. “Flank steak would be better, but the pepperoni was all I had available.”
    I looked over at Pansy, whose expression was a mixture of shock and horror. “You’re stapling food to her shirt.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”
    The dramatics lasted only a split second, then she shifted from fainting delicacy to flushed and angry. “Are you trying to make a fool of me?”
    The entire room went dead silent and turned to look at us. I frowned. I’d expected jealousy and a bit of anger as I’d upstaged her, but I hadn’t expected rage. And no doubt about it, Pansy was ready to blow.  
    “I’m sure you do a fine job of making a fool of yourself,” I answered. “I’m just following your instructions. You said it was a royal theme.”
    Ida Belle and Gertie left their posts at the back of the heads and walked around to see the object of Pansy’s rage. Gertie yelped and started fanning herself with a paper plate. Ida Belle covered her mouth with her hand. I couldn’t tell if she was horrified, like Pansy, or trying not to laugh, but knowing Ida Belle, I was guessing the latter.
    “No one in the royal family,” Pansy stammered, bits of spittle flying out at me, “would ever look that way. Not even in private.”
    “That’s where you’re wrong,” I argued, refusing to give up my ground. “The woman I’m imitating is all over the Internet. Google ‘Lady’ and she’s the first thousand images that pop up.”
    Gertie emitted a strangled cry and bent over, clutching her stomach. Ida Belle lowered her hand just a bit, and I could see her lower lip trembling.
    “Not…,” Ida Belle began, “um…not Lady