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infection got in,” Dr. Patrick said. “Those nail salons are not safe and certainly not sterile.”
    “It’s Pearl Harbor all over again,” Wendy Thomas erupted in a bigoted shriek. “A sneak attack!”
    “I told her not to go to that salon,” Wendy Anderson continued. “I heard that Kim Makler lost her big toe there and now she can’t wear any strappy heels this spring.”
    “Is she going to be all right?” Mrs. K asked, completely oblivious to the Wendys’ ridiculous comments.
    “The next twenty-four hours will tell us more,” Dr. Patrick responded, ordering the nurse to triple the antibiotic dose Petula was receiving.
    Scarlet looked over and saw the Wendys’ “concern” as a new pic line was inserted, but she suspected they were just happy to be involved in such a dramatic situation. Being this close to Petula at possibly the hour of her demise would put them in line to inherit her position, her “it-ness.” This could make their high school careers and establish a new legacy for them as leaders, not followers. High school, after all, was a game of every girl for herself.
    “Don’t go shopping for a Louis Vuitton casket cozy just yet,” Scarlet quipped. “She’s gonna be fine.”
    The Wendys left the room, and then just as quickly regrouped, discussing fantasy funeral arrangements and where they would shop for their couture mourning attire.
    “Everyone shows grief in their own way.” Dr. Patrick shrugged upon their exit. “I guess.”
    Scarlet put her arms around her mother.
    “Actually, this is a critical time. There is nothing more we can do but wait,” Dr. Patrick said, causing Mrs. K to break down into tears.
    Scarlet made a promise to be there for her mother to lean on, but whom would Scarlet have to lean on? Damen was still out of touch, in every conceivable way.
    Kiki definitely needed Scarlet, but Petula, she decided, needed her more. After picking up a change of clothes at home, Scarlet kissed her mom and reassured her. Before she could get out the door, her mom stopped her and reached into the hall closet.
    “Please take this with you,” Kiki asked through a voice made hoarse from nonstop sobbing. “She’ll need it when she wakes up.”
    Scarlet wasn’t the sentimental type, but she felt tears coming on as she gently took Petula’s Homecoming gown from her mother’s hand. It was beautifully detailed, specially made just for her. Feeling the fabric run through her fingers, Scarlet understood for the first time why Homecoming was so important to Petula. Why she had gone to such lengths to rebuild her reputation and her voting constituency in the past year. Petula not only wanted to be Homecoming queen — she needed to be. Scarlet didn’t say another word.
    When she arrived at the hospital she carried it in and hung it where Petula could “see” it, just as her mom had requested. It might not have had any effect on Petula’s condition right then, but seeing it definitely made Scarlet feel better. Exhausted, she plopped down on the chair, took off her Rockabilly trench, balled it up as a pillow, and slowly fell asleep.
    The sound of shuffling feet woke Scarlet suddenly. They were too heavy to belong to the nurses or aides, she thought. She opened her eyes and tried to focus.
    “Where have you been?” Scarlet asked, lifting her head from the olive green pleather hospital room recliner. She stood up and walked to the familiar figure in the doorway.
    “What do you mean?” Damen said quietly, hugging her tightly enough to almost make her forget her troubles. “I just got back in town and rushed right over.”
    Scarlet still wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not, but if it was a dream, it was a good one.
    “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night,” she rambled. “I called and called, but your cell phone said out of the area, and it kept going to voicemail …”
    “Well, why didn’t you just leave a message for me?”
    “And you were in such a rush to get