Beauty Queens

“But … is it wrong to want a guy to slay a dragon for you? Not that I would want a guy to slay a dragon, because I’m a vegetarian. But maybe he just needs a little encouragement. He’d do right by you if you could just see past his faults, like in Beauty and the Beast.”

“Riiiiight.” Adina swept a hand dramatically to her brow. “And only your love can heal him.”

“Well … yeah.”

“That’s how they get you, my friend.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Unless it’s about spearing fish, because apparently I suck at that.”

“Do you think people can be cursed?”

“I believe Taylor is cursed to be a pain in the ass.” Adina craned her neck. “I should be careful. I’m sure she has supersonic hearing, too.”

“I mean really cursed.” Mary Lou turned her ring.

“What do you mean?” Adina gave Mary Lou a quizzical look.

“Forget it. It’s silly. I still believe in true love, though. You’re wrong about that.”

“You know what you are, Mary Lou? You are a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m not the one who’s hopeless, Adina.”

Adina gave a little shriek. “That fish just swam past my leg! Creepy! Where did it go?”

“To your right! Two o’clock! Get it!”

“You are officially the most bloodthirsty vegetarian ever.” Adina stabbed hard and yelled in triumph. A fat fish wriggled on the end of her spear. “OMG. That was harder than the SATs.”

Mary Lou liked Adina. She liked her directness. In school, they would tell you that life wouldn’t come to you; you had to go out and make it your own. But when it came to love, the message for girls seemed to be this: Don’t. Don’t go after what you want. Wait. Wait to be chosen, as if only in the eye of another could one truly find value. The message was confusing and infuriating. It was a shell game with no actual pea under the rapidly moving cups. Mary Lou knew this firsthand, and she wished she could ask Adina more questions. But that would mean telling her everything, and she just couldn’t risk that. Like the bulrush shoots, shame and fear could be woven into a plaiting of surprising strength.

Taylor led the girls deeper into the jungle to a basin surrounded by hills. An enormous cave cut into one of the hills.

“Sparkle Ponies and Lost Girls, we already know that Miss Illinois and Miss Michigan had to take down a giant snake. We don’t know what other hostiles we might run into while we’re waiting for the rescue ship. As you know, I am a card-carrying member of Femmes and Firearms, just like my spiritual leader, Ladybird Hope. And if we’re gonna protect ourselves, we need to build us some weapons. The Glitz Attack. Everything we need is here. We just have to be resourceful. And there are bonuses,” Taylor said. She held out a makeup bag. Unconsciously, the girls took a step forward. “Before we left home, I took the liberty of having a makeover at every counter in every mall in town. I racked up quite a few free gifts with purchase.” She jiggled the bag. “There is some very nice conditioner in this bag. Teen Dreamers, it’s time to represent. Your platform is Personal Arsenal. Miss Montana, Miss Ohio, Miss California. Are you ready?”

The three girls moved to a mound of palm fronds, carefully removing them to reveal a rickety wooden trebuchet made of bamboo and counterweighted with coconuts. “This is our new Teen Dream missile launcher. As you can see, it’s a catapult. You can thank Miss Montana, Miss Ohio, and Miss California for that.”

“We rock physics.” Miss Montana beamed. “Made one of these for ninth grade science. And Shanti makes them for fun in her spare time.”

Tiara raised her hand. “I thought Catapult was a spring break city in Mexico.”

“That’s Acapulco,” Mary Lou said.

“Next up: geography skills,” Adina muttered.

“Eyes up here, ladies,” Miss Montana continued. “You’ll note back here is a net thingy. Well, technically it’s a pair of DiscomfortWear™.”24

“Shapes you and makes an awesome launch pad,” Miss Ohio joked as she thumped the taut fabric attached to the long arm like an exotic underwear lacrosse stick. “If you put something in here — Miss California, will you do the honors, please?”

Shanti brandished a pastel pump for everyone to see before placing it in the nude-fabric basket.

“And cut the vine — oh, y’all might want to step back.”

The girls moved to the side. With one swift move, Shanti cut the vine. The coconut hit the ground and the trebuchet arm swung up, launching the pump through the air with a ferocious zip. It stuck, heel-first, into the bark of a small tree with such force, it split the tree in two.