Little Miss Stoneybrook...and Dawn by Ann M. Martin

“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).
    â€œThat’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 competition. 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?”
    â€œNervous. I’ll be glad when this is over. It was a bigger deal than I thought it would be. How about you?”
    â€œI’m a little nervous.”
    â€œI’m a lot nervous,” I heard Margo tell Charlotte.
    â€œI 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.
    â€œYou can?” said Claire, Margo, and Charlotte in unison.
    â€œCertainly. 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.
    â€œHow do you know how to do that?” Margo asked. “By the way, my name’s Margo.”
    â€œI’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.
    â€œCome 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’salways 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.
    â€œDo 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.”
    â€œShe’s not that pretty,” I pointed out.
    â€œAnd 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 was 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 butterflies 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 orpoked through their daughters’ bags of clothing, Mrs. Bouvier glued