for scenery they had teams stacked into human pyramids. I don’t know how they just stood there for so long. Then they had people scurrying along tightropes, others swinging frantically from platform to platform on trapezes. They were trying to evade the Egyptians, who were approaching on elephants and camels. Then Sister Nora came riding in on her gorgeous white stallion, and all the Hebrews followed her. They did something amazing with lights and sheets of shimmering plastic that looked like waves, and when the sea parted, the good guys had gotten away and the bad guys had drowned.”
“Ambitious. And creative. I don’t remember a white stallion in the book of Exodus.”
“Artistic license. They did the traditional stuff, too, sort of an abbreviated version of what you’d get at a regular circus. Then Nora did a speech about global warming. They dimmed all the lights, then brought up one huge spot, like the sun. And they’d created this tableau of a garden with performers dressed as trees and flowers, and as she spoke, they shriveled. Then the animals laid down, one by one, as if they were dying. An elephant, a horse, a bear, all the poodles. Even one of the big cats put his head in his trainer’s lap—which was the scariest moment of the night. Finally Nora explains that she’s here in our county because God told her to build a biosphere that will house as many species as she can find room for, and that this is how humanity and life as we know it will be saved from annihilation if things don’t improve. It’s the job of people in Emerald Springs to help make this happen.”
“Uh oh.” May has a cherubic face, which was now screwed into a grimace. “Let me guess. That part didn’t go over well.”
“Not so you’d notice. She cleared the place in record time.”
Tara Norton, one of the Price Girls, appeared at the head of our stairs and posed for a moment like a runway model. She was dressed in leopard-print pants and a gold T-shirt with her dark hair teased and curled into a wild tangle around her head.
“Scary Price,” I guessed, having boned up on my Spice Girls lore.
“I’m loud and boisterous, and I get into trouble.”
Nothing could actually be further from the truth. Tara’s a sweetheart. For a couple of years now, all the girls presently calling themselves the Price Girls have been part of a larger group named—unfortunately—the Green Meanies. I’ve never been fond of them banding together to promote envy among their peers, but the Meanies, despite their name, are for the most part nice kids who just like to spend time together. Some of them, like Carlene, otherwise known as Ginger Price, concentrate on being popular at school; some, like Tara and Maddie, May’s daughter, are brainiacs.
Maddie joined us now, in a sweet little babydoll dress, which because of her mother’s intervention, was longer than the girls wanted it to be. “Baby Price.” She did a cute little curtsy.
Like May, Maddie is petite, blonde, and delicate. She looked appropriately cherubic with her hair in long pig-tails. Deena came down right behind her in sweats, a spandex tank, and a headband, looking as if she were planning to run a marathon. I could tell from the expression on her face that she wanted to be anywhere else at the moment. Since “Sporty” has dark hair and I had refused to let her dye hers, she’d borrowed a dark wig from a friend which was fastened into a ponytail. I wondered if she was hoping nobody would recognize her. I hoped it didn’t fall off mid-song.
Deena is at an age when confiding in me feels traitorous, but she had gone so far as to admit—as Lucy said—that she’d been railroaded into this performance. Now the big moment had almost arrived, and she and her friends were going up in front of Grady Barber and the other judges. I hadn’t warned her that he might be less than charming. She’d found Internet accounts of other events like this one that he had judged.
“Ambitious. And creative. I don’t remember a white stallion in the book of Exodus.”
“Artistic license. They did the traditional stuff, too, sort of an abbreviated version of what you’d get at a regular circus. Then Nora did a speech about global warming. They dimmed all the lights, then brought up one huge spot, like the sun. And they’d created this tableau of a garden with performers dressed as trees and flowers, and as she spoke, they shriveled. Then the animals laid down, one by one, as if they were dying. An elephant, a horse, a bear, all the poodles. Even one of the big cats put his head in his trainer’s lap—which was the scariest moment of the night. Finally Nora explains that she’s here in our county because God told her to build a biosphere that will house as many species as she can find room for, and that this is how humanity and life as we know it will be saved from annihilation if things don’t improve. It’s the job of people in Emerald Springs to help make this happen.”
“Uh oh.” May has a cherubic face, which was now screwed into a grimace. “Let me guess. That part didn’t go over well.”
“Not so you’d notice. She cleared the place in record time.”
Tara Norton, one of the Price Girls, appeared at the head of our stairs and posed for a moment like a runway model. She was dressed in leopard-print pants and a gold T-shirt with her dark hair teased and curled into a wild tangle around her head.
“Scary Price,” I guessed, having boned up on my Spice Girls lore.
“I’m loud and boisterous, and I get into trouble.”
Nothing could actually be further from the truth. Tara’s a sweetheart. For a couple of years now, all the girls presently calling themselves the Price Girls have been part of a larger group named—unfortunately—the Green Meanies. I’ve never been fond of them banding together to promote envy among their peers, but the Meanies, despite their name, are for the most part nice kids who just like to spend time together. Some of them, like Carlene, otherwise known as Ginger Price, concentrate on being popular at school; some, like Tara and Maddie, May’s daughter, are brainiacs.
Maddie joined us now, in a sweet little babydoll dress, which because of her mother’s intervention, was longer than the girls wanted it to be. “Baby Price.” She did a cute little curtsy.
Like May, Maddie is petite, blonde, and delicate. She looked appropriately cherubic with her hair in long pig-tails. Deena came down right behind her in sweats, a spandex tank, and a headband, looking as if she were planning to run a marathon. I could tell from the expression on her face that she wanted to be anywhere else at the moment. Since “Sporty” has dark hair and I had refused to let her dye hers, she’d borrowed a dark wig from a friend which was fastened into a ponytail. I wondered if she was hoping nobody would recognize her. I hoped it didn’t fall off mid-song.
Deena is at an age when confiding in me feels traitorous, but she had gone so far as to admit—as Lucy said—that she’d been railroaded into this performance. Now the big moment had almost arrived, and she and her friends were going up in front of Grady Barber and the other judges. I hadn’t warned her that he might be less than charming. She’d found Internet accounts of other events like this one that he had judged.
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