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South pageant.
    Please. I couldn’t get hives now. I just couldn’t.
    “Have you seen Jett?” I asked, looking around in vain, trying to ignore my itchy arms. The Sex Puppets started a new song, very loud. I really, really wanted to find Jett. I would be okay, if only—
    And then, there he was. He wrapped his long arms around me.
    Suddenly I had this urge to run away with Jett, somewhere where no one knew either one of us.
    “Hope you get it, Lara!” a guy from my French class called.
    I smiled and mouthed, “Thanks,” again. I shifted myself into pageant autopilot. I had to keep smiling, especially if they called Amy Caprice’s name instead of mine. No matter how I felt. No matter what.
    I gently scratched my arms.
    The Sex Puppets scowled to the end of their song, and Mrs. Conway, our principal, made her way to the microphone. The Sex Puppets stepped back. My father stood on one side of me, holding tightly to my right hand. Jett had one hand on the small of my back.
    “I feel a little sick,” I whispered to Jett.
    He leaned over and kissed my cheek.
    From across the room Molly caught my eye. She made a praying gesture with her hands.
    Oh, God
.
    “Students of Forest Hills High, parents and guests, honored alumni,” Mrs. Conway said into the microphone. “It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for, time to announce this year’s homecoming court.”
    I could feel people’s eyes on me. My arms itched like crazy. My stomach felt as if it had dropped to my knees. I smiled even harder.
    “As you all know, there will be three princesses and their queen, all of whom will be accompanied up to the stage by their escorts, and will then be presented at halftime during the game tomorrow.”
    My father smiled at me and squeezed my hand even more tightly. Traditionally, each girl on the court was accompanied to the stage by her father.
    “As I call each girl’s name, please come forward,along with your escort, to the stage. And please, let’s all hold our applause until the entire court is announced.”
    I could feel sweat trickling down my spine. I smiled so hard my jaws ached.
    Please, God, please, God
, I prayed.
Please, just let me have this one thing
.
    “Our princesses are … Carrie Anne Macey, Lisa James, and Whitney Summers,” Mrs. Conway said into the microphone.
    My parents looked at each other, slack-jawed with shock. Amy Caprice’s name hadn’t been called, and neither had mine. One of us had won, and one of us wasn’t even on the court.
    Oh, God
.
    “Lara, it has to be Lara,” my mother breathed. Her eyes were shut tight, the fingers on both hands crossed.
    My father squeezed my fingers more tightly still. Sweat beaded up on his forehead.
    The smile was still plastered on my face.
    But inside, now, I wanted to cry. It was one thing not to be queen, but I hadn’t even made it onto the court.
    “And our homecoming queen is …”
    Time stood still. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t—
    “Lara Ardeche!” Mrs. Conway called triumphantly.
    My mother screamed, my friends screamed, and my father whooped the loudest of all, pumping his fist into the air. I jumped into Jett’s arms, and for the briefest moment, he held me. Everyone was applauding, yelling, whistling.
    “May I?” my father asked me gallantly, holding out his elbow, so proud.
    I took it, and then, like in some wonderful movie,bodies parted, and my father and I walked up on the stage, where last year’s homecoming queen put the crown on my head. Someone else handed me a dozen long-stemmed red roses.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Forest Hills High School homecoming court!” Mrs. Conway exclaimed.
    Everyone cheered again, cameras flashed, and I could see my mom videotaping everything. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my father tenderly wiped them away with his handkerchief. I mouthed, “Thank you,” at everyone and let the tears come again. Pageants teach you that it’s okay to be swept away by big