when I’m through judging. She came in on the bus early this morning.”
“From college?” Willa guessed.
“Macalester. She’s a theater major. I wonder if she’s got a chance of winning.”
“Everybody’s got a chance. Your sister’s pretty. I saw her picture. But the judging covers a lot more than that.”
“Talent? Personality?” Pam looked puzzled when Willa shook her head.
“We have those, too, but they’re a part of any beauty contest. Just like the rest, we have one night for evening gowns, one for swimsuits, one for the talent showcase, and one for the interviews with the announcer. The fifth night is just for fun, and the girls perform a couple of musical numbers for the audience. And then on Saturday night, we have the pageant parade, and the judges announce the winner and the runners-up, along with the special awards.”
“So what makes Miss Tri-County different?” Hannah wanted to know.
“We also assess a girl’s character. Just take a look at my grid,” she said, pulling a clipboard out of her backpack and handing it over so that Hannah and Pam could see. “The girls are expected to get here by noon and check in with me at the auditorium. They have to make themselves available at various venues, hold interviews with the press and the beauty contest judges in the afternoon, and take part in the formal pageant in front of the audience every night from seven to eight. That’s a lot more than just looking good in a bathing suit.”
“It’s an eight-hour day,” Hannah agreed.
“It’s meant to be. The pageant organizer retired to Arizona, but I talked to her by phone. She told me that the activities planned for the contestants are a test of their maturity and reliability. They’re judged on those categories, too, and that’s why I have the grid.”
Hannah glanced down at the grid again. “I see the names of the contestants. They’re written here in the left margin. But what are the numbers in the columns at the top?”
“Each number represents an attribute. They’re coded so if someone sneaks a look at my clipboard, it won’t show how any individual contestant is doing. They’ll see checkmarks, but they won’t know what they represent.”
“I know you can’t tell us the code,” Pam said, “but could you give us an idea of the categories?”
“Sure. One number stands for complaints. Every time a girl complains about going to a venue, or talking to the press, or how she’s sick to death of smiling and she wishes she hadn’t entered the contest in the first place, I put a checkmark in the complaint category.”
“That makes sense,” Hannah said. “Nobody likes a whiner. What are some of the other categories?”
“Another number stands for being tardy. If a girl is late to any scheduled activity, I put a checkmark in that column. There’s another code for breaking the rules.”
“For instance?” Pam asked.
“Like swearing. The girls aren’t allowed to swear while they’re wearing their contestant ID badges. That’s because younger girls look up to them and we don’t want our contestants to set a bad example. If they forget and get five checkmarks in the swearing category, I have to disqualify them.”
“So some checkmarks are weighted more than others?” Hannah asked.
“Definitely. If a girl does something illegal, she’s immediately disqualified. That one’s a no-brainer. But she gets more than one chance with things that aren’t so serious, like being late and not showing up for a planned event.”
“Sounds complicated,” Pam said.
“Not really. It’s just like life. The consequences for some things are worse than the consequences for others.”
“So you think it’s fairer than other beauty contests?” Hannah asked, reading between the lines.
“I think so. As a rule, I don’t like beauty contests, but this one’s the best I’ve seen. Each girl gets marked in exactly the same way. If her total adds up to the wrong number, she’s gone.”
“Do you have to tell a contestant when she’s disqualified?” Hannah asked.
“Yes.”
“That must be tough.”
“It must be, but I agreed to do it when I took the job. I’m hoping that I won’t have to disqualify anybody. I’m giving every girl a copy of the rules, so it’s not like they won’t know. And I’m planning to tell them that I’ll be keeping track of their behavior on my clipboard. I’m even going to warn them when they’re one checkmark away from disqualification. I don’t think it can be any fairer than that.”
“I have to stop by the Cookie Nook booth and see if they need more supplies,” Hannah said as they walked out of the Creative Arts Building.
“Is that Mayor Bascomb’s booth?” Willa asked.
“Technically it’s the Lake Eden Chamber of Commerce booth, but Mayor Bascomb’s the one who’s running it.”
“Must be an election year,” Pam said, grinning.
“It is,” Hannah confirmed, “but he’s running again, unopposed.”
“Do you think anyone will ever challenge him?” Willa asked.
Both Hannah and Pam shook their heads.
“Never?” Willa persisted.
“I doubt it,” Hannah answered. “Everybody agrees that he’s doing a fine job running Lake Eden.”
“And nobody else seems to want the job,” Pam pointed out.
“I can understand that!” Hannah gave a little laugh. “If something goes wrong, the first person people call is Mayor Bascomb.”
“You’re right,” Willa said. “Remember when the power went out in our classroom and I went to report it to Mr. Purvis? The first thing he did was to ask Charlotte to call Mayor…”
Willa stopped in her tracks. She gave a strangled gasp and her face turned so pale, Hannah reached out to grab her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I…I…”
“Are you in pain?” Pam asked, grabbing Willa’s other arm.
“No! I just…have to sit down.”
“Help her around the corner to the food court,” Hannah said, taking charge. “I’ll get her some water.”
Hannah rushed up to the nearest booth and got a cup of water. On her way back, she looked to see if she could spot anything that might have startled Willa. The only thing happening was a roping demonstration on one of the outdoor stages. Several cowboys from the rodeo were doing rope tricks and teaching them to the 4-H kids.
“Thanks, Hannah,” Willa said when Hannah got to the table and handed her the cup
