Potions and Pageants Read online

  Percy felt the recurrence of a mild wave of annoyance. The girls were more than happy to talk to Octavia, who was clearly popular. With Octavia’s height and icy grace and haughty cheekbones, most contestants were probably just relieved that she hadn’t entered the beauty pageant herself. Perhaps that was why the girls liked her. They were grateful she wasn’t their competition.

  Percy tried not to feel aggravated. After all, she was the one who had wanted Octavia here. Octavia could investigate any problems and Percy could sit back and do nothing.

  But try as she might, her irritation would not budge. She wondered what all of these girls would have to say if they knew that Octavia was a sentinel. That she was amongst them at Humble High as part of some great big sneaky sordid pretense.

  Why did Councilor Strickt even think it was appropriate for sentinels to be working undercover at the school? Did he think the eldritch students were up to no good? Or had he got wind of something darker and more dangerous afoot?

  Nan clearly had no idea about Octavia being a sentinel. She was not watching the vampire girl. She was rushing over to Bella and her friends with a hairdryer in one hand and hair straighteners in another.

  Nan must have felt Percy’s eyes on her because she looked up and spotted her. Her face brightened when she saw what Percy was wearing and she gave a big sigh of relief.

  “Oh good,” she said, coming over to her.

  “I did promise,” said Percy defensively.

  Nan pursed her lips a little. “Yes well, sometimes you forget your promises.”

  Percy let Nan brush her hair and tie it in a high ponytail, but drew the line at letting Nan wind it all up in an elaborate bun. Nan did insist on slicking the frizzy bits down with hairspray before bustling off.

  Percy spent the rest of her time idly watching Bella. She even stalked her from the hair and make up area to the large room that had been set aside for contestants to practice their talents in.

  She took care to stay far enough away so that Octavia Smythe-Smith wouldn’t guess that Bella had been the subject of Percy’s worries. Let Octavia figure that out for herself.

  Percy was hoping for another glimpse of Bella’s handbag, but Bella must have left it in her locker. It was too bad. Even Percy was beginning to wonder if she had imagined the cloud of doom.

  If Bella was planning on sabotaging anyone, she showed no signs of it. She stretched and limbered up as if she was a ballerina, and gossiped with the other Bees. Percy practiced her tap dancing routine nearby. Bella glowered at her for all of the noise she was making.

  And then a bell rang, giving the contestants notice that it would soon be time for the opening dance.

  Out in the direction of the stage, Percy could hear the two students who Nan had appointed as hosts for the evening. The microphones amplified their voices as they welcomed the audience and then introduced the judges. A great cheer rose up as Head Judge Alice Evangelista was introduced to the audience.

  Bella excused herself and hurried off very quickly to the ladies toilets. Percy was tempted to follow her, but she told herself she no longer cared about the suspicious way Bella had gone scurrying off.

  And anyway, the hosts were calling for the contestants to come out onto the stage. They had begun their roll call, introducing all of the girls one by one, and it was Percy’s name that they announced first.

  Percy trotted out onto the stage, bowed to the judges as she had been told to do, and then bowed to the audience, and took her spot on the back row which had been marked with an X.

  Looking out into the crowd, the first person her eyes landed on was Felix. He was leaning against the wall to the side of the front row, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he kept his eyes on both the audience and the stage. She caught his glance, then scowled and quickly looked away.

  The hosts, a senior girl and boy, were taking turns calling out the other contestants one by one. The boy host was named Arthur — Percy had heard Delphine calling him that. He was the handsome Humble who Delphine was dating.

  As each of the less popular girls walked out onto stage, they received the same smattering of half-hearted applause that Percy had received. The applause grew warmer as the better-liked girls came out.

  By the time twenty or so girls had come out and lined themselves up in three neat rows, there was still no sign of Bella.

  Her name was called out twice, and had received an enormous cheer both times before she finally trotted out from the side of the stage, waving her hands gracefully as if she was a celebrity. She took her place in the center of the first row, right between Blanche and Barbie.

  Percy glowered at the back of Bella’s head. Bella had looked far too pleased to be the last name called, now that Nilgun was out of the way.

  And now the crowd of contestants curtsied gracefully in a perfectly synchronized manner first to the judges, and then did a smooth ninety degree turn to the audience. It was only the start and Percy was already feeling the tedium of the orchestrated moves. She was glad Lucifer was not here to see her being so insipid.

  Nearly all of the girls had interpreted the meaning of the Princess Perfect dress theme to be long flowing confections in shades of pastels, silver or gold. And yet Bella, who had been earlier wearing a gold mini-dress, had changed into a stunning floor length scarlet gown. Her two friends, Blanche and Barbie, still dressed in their knee length gold mini-dresses, were eyeing her up as if she had betrayed them.

  Bella only smiled at them and gave a dismissive shrug of her shoulder.

  So that was what she had been up to. A sneaky dress change. Percy was almost disappointed.

  And so the first round competition began, with each girl strutting around in a circle to display her outfit off to best effect, with most of them flourishing themselves as if they were models on the catwalk, their arms and legs jutting out, patting their elaborate hairstyles to show them off.

  And then each contestant was asked a series of questions by the judges, such as, “What are your hobbies?” and “Which famous person would you say is your hero?” and “What do you plan to do after you graduate from school?”

  The jeers or applause that came from the crowd in response to each answer seemed to have nothing to do with the merit of the answer and far more to do with the popularity of the girl in question.

  When Percy’s turn came, it was Assistant Judge Emma who asked her first question. She drew a slip of paper out of a box in front of her, unfolded it, and said, “What is your favorite book and why?”

  Percy didn’t have much patience for reading, unlike Nan who had probably devoured every book in the school library. She scanned her brain, hoping to think up a good answer for the only one of the three judges that she liked, but nothing came to mind.

  Percy shrugged. She said jokingly, “Whichever is the shortest?” and was glad when Judge Emma chuckled. So did the audience.

  Next came a question from Assistant Judge Georgie Little. He did not draw his question slip out of his box, instead deciding to ask one of his own.

  “Why did you choose to enter this beauty pageant?” he said, with a sanctimonious little look on his face.

  “Why not?” Percy retorted. “Why did you choose to be a judge? Is it because you know that all that glitters is not gold, and you wanted to find worthiness in something other than people’s physical appearances?”

  An awkward silence followed her words, and not a single person in the audience applauded. It was like they were wondering what on earth she was going on about.

  The sanctimonious look had disappeared off Judge Georgie’s face. Now he looked a little angry. His eyes glittered.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Surely it’s not that difficult to say you hoped to help a charitable cause?” he said sarcastically.

  The audience did laugh this time.

  “Isn’t that a given?” said Percy.

  She felt a fraud for saying this. If it hadn’t been for getting into trouble with Councilor Strickt, help
ing Nan with the pageant was the last thing Percy would have chosen to do.

  “What an interesting girl,” said Head Judge Alice lightly, but the scathing expression on her face showed that she was not impressed with Percy’s answer.

  She also chose not to draw a question out of the box in front of her. Instead she said very sweetly, “I hope you don’t mind if I ask you something that has been baffling me?”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at Percy and gave her a little smile, and said, “Why on earth did you choose to dye your hair that particular shade of green?”

  The audience howled with laughter.

  “Mosshead, mosshead!” the students in the audience started chanting.

  It took several minutes for the hosts to be able to calm them down. When they finally shut up, Percy bowed.

  The hosts had tried to wrestle the microphone out of her hands during the furor, but she had refused to let them take it.

  Lifting it to her lips, she said to Head Judge Alice, “I’m sure you can get a bottle of it from your hairdresser if you really want it. You’ll find it’s called Seething Envy.”

  Percy was done. It would have felt so good to drop the mike and stalk offstage, leaving the pageant in her dust. But she had promised Nan, dammit. She carefully handed the mike over to the girl host, and returned to her place in the back row.

  She told herself it wasn’t going to be that long now until it was over. It was nearly time for the break, after which would come the first talent segment, during which hopefully no further disasters would happen. And then Percy’s work was done, and she would always be able to remind Nan that she had done her part as promised.

  During the break, to everyone’s surprise, Nilgun was wheeled in backstage on a wheelchair by her mother. She greeted the girls cheerily and wished everyone good luck.

  Her left leg was in a cast from ankle to knee, and she was wearing a hat to cover up the burned hair on her scalp. One of her arms was also in a sling, but she said, “It’s only a sprained wrist, and thankfully it is my left, so I’ll be able to come back to school tomorrow.”

  Nilgun’s mum stayed protectively close by, as if afraid Nilgun might topple out of her wheelchair. She eyed up the other contestants with displeasure, as if she suspected one of them might be responsible for her daughter’s misfortune.

  When Nilgun was wheeled behind the screened area to have a chat with the judges, the other girls seemed to remember that this was their last chance to practice their talents and hurried to do so.

  Bella disappeared off into the bathroom again, undoubtedly for another outfit change, and Percy followed her, curious to see if the handbag and the cloud of doom would make an appearance.

  Percy loitered outside the bathroom door, was wishing Bella would hurry up in there so that she didn’t have to feel so much like a creep. Eleanor marched over, clipboard tucked under her arm, and demanded, “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” said Percy innocently.

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you following Bella around. What is your problem?”

  “It’s not me who’s got the problem. What are you supposed to be anyway? Her assistant or her bodyguard?”

  “I’m her friend,” hissed Eleanor.

  Percy rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you noticed that Bella of the almighty Osterichs doesn’t have any real friends? She only has followers. She’s only nice to people like you when she wants something.”

  Eleanor ground her teeth. She glared for a long moment and then she said very quietly and angrily, “Well maybe I’m only being nice to her because I want something too.”

  Percy’s eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. So dreary little Eleanor was smarter than she looked! And suddenly much more interesting.

  Percy leaned forward and whispered, “What?”

  Eleanor huffed. “It’s none of your business. Why should I tell you?”

  Percy’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Something occurred to her. “You’re not a Humble, are you?”

  Eleanor did not reply, but the fact that she didn’t look confused by the question that Percy had asked confirmed that she knew what a Humble was. Which meant that she had to be part of the witching or eldritch communities.

  “So what are you?” Percy persisted. “You’re not eldritch I think…”

  Eleanor’s cheeks went slightly pink with annoyance. “None of your business,” she snapped.

  Percy was aware that it was an unspoken rule in Humble High that it was rude to ask people what they were. If someone wanted to tell you, then they would tell you.

  And sometimes it was quite obvious to those in the know that some students simply had to be succubae or incubae or werewolves, just because of their manner. Finfolk, with their greyish skin, were easy to spot as well. And Percy doubted that Eleanor was part-goblin. Definitely not angelli. The girl had a downtrodden demeanor that no angelli would ever have.

  Which left an option that had never crossed Percy’s mind before.

  Percy gasped. “You’re a Meek!”

  The way Eleanor’s face went red confirmed it instantly.

  Percy was astonished. She had spent lunchtime yesterday trying to identify as many Meeks as possible. The few Meeks had tended to all hang out together at breaks and lunch. She had not seen Eleanor with them.

  “Are you trying to pass as a Humble?” Percy demanded.

  “I am not!” said Eleanor. “Just because I am a Meek doesn’t mean I need to hang out with all the other Meeks!”

  Percy herself had never been able to hide the fact that she was a Meek from her acquaintances. Her mother was far too well-known a witch for that.

  “But isn’t it weird that you’re hanging out with three succubae instead?” she asked. “Especially the Three Bees. Those three have their own heads so far up their own backsides that they can’t see anything but their own teeth.”

  “You think you have it so hard,” said Eleanor. “I know all about you. Poor little rich girl. Being a Meek with such a famous mother must be so tough for you. Guess what? Imagine having three sisters who are all witches too! Imagine being the only Meek in your whole family. But I’m sick of it. Just because I’m not a witch, doesn’t mean I can’t be something.”

  “What?” Percy demanded. “Assistant to narcissistic succubae everywhere?”

  “What’s going on here?” said a strident voice.

  Blanche and Barbie had snuck up on them unnoticed. They looked suspiciously at Eleanor, as if she had betrayed them by talking with Percy.

  “I was just telling her that I saw her following Bella,” said Eleanor quickly.

  “Well stop hanging around with nobodies and get us some drinks, Eleanor,” said Blanche nastily.

  Eleanor hurried off to get them their drinks.

  “Quite the little cozy situation you’ve got going on there,” said Percy angrily. “Getting that poor girl to run around fetching and carrying for you. You two make me sick. You really think you’re better than other people, don’t you”?

  Blanche tossed her hair. “You really are a stupid mosshead,” she said. “Me and Bella and Barbie are going places in life.”

  “It’s a quid pro quo situation,” insisted Barbie. “Eleanor does stuff for us, and we help her get along.”

  “So long as she remembers her place,” said Blanche. “Do you think the silly little Meek appreciates the likes of you trying to ruin things for her?”

  “We don’t think so!” said Barbie hotly.

  The two girls gave Percy a dirty look and turned to walk away.

  Then Blanche turned around again. “And don’t think we haven’t noticed what you’re up to. You’re in our school now. Stay out of our business, weirdo. Or we’ll make your life hell!”

  12. The Unlucky Judge

  Percy felt a rush of sympathy for Eleanor. How awful to feel so lonely and lost that you needed to turn to the Three Bees to make yourself feel better.

  Blanche and Barbie were now practicing playing their flutes,
and Eleanor was watching them. She was holding their handbags and their flute cases and their drinks. She was their own little cheering squad of one.

  Percy felt sorry for her. She knew how hard it was to watch someone close to you grow up with superior talents — magic no less! — and to know they would live in a world that you could never enter. It had filled Percy with dread. The mere thought of being driven apart had made her and Nan act in ways that had driven them apart.

  But it was no use warning Eleanor that this road led to misery. People never listened to people they never liked. And Percy had quite enough to worry about without worrying about Eleanor too.

  The fifteen minutes break was drawing to an end and the girls were all looking jittery. The backstage area had become a cacophony of singing and dancing and musical instruments jangling and trilling. So much effort everyone was putting into their few minutes of fame.

  Nan was hurrying around to each group of girls and reminding them, “You’ll only have two minutes each for your talent. No more than two minutes. Do not overrun!”

  A girl in a pink tutu was bending over backwards so deeply that Percy thought it was a wonder she had not broken her spine.

  Nan ran over to her. “No magic, Gaya!” she hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know your mother is a witch. Assistant Judge Emma Waters is a witch too. You’ll be disqualified!”

  Gaya gave her a scathing look. “I’m only warming up!”

  Nan pointed at Gaya’s shoes. “Take them off!”

  Gaya flushed, and resentfully took off her ballet pumps and put on a different pair.

  Over by the drinks table Blanche and Barbie were taking the opportunity to hydrate themselves at the last minute.

  Eleanor, who had been with them, was shuffling sideways in a weird manner. Percy realized she was trying to edge towards Headmistress Glory and Assistant Judge Emma Waters without being noticed.

  The headmistress and the judge were having what looked like an intense conversation. From the riveted look on Eleanor’s face, Percy thought they must be talking about scores.