Page 4 of The Debutantes
But also, what the hell just happened?
I look out at the crowd. Some people are still sitting and whispering into their gloves, but most are up and elbowing their way to the exits. Mrs. Johnson is trying to corral them with her still-dead mic, but it’s a losing game. This is as much of a free-for-all as the canned-goods and bottled-water aisles when the city issues a hurricane warning. And maybe weshouldbe running. Because even though everything seems fine, I can’t shake the creeped-out feeling: someone just threw fake blood at Lily in a ballroom haunted by a dead girl. One who, just last year, was sitting on the same throne.
Someone waving pulls my attention. Mom, standing out from the crowd with the height and strawberry-blond hair her strong genes passed on to me. I wave back, and she grabs Dad’s arm. They both look relieved. I’m far enough away that for a second, I could believe they aren’t in the middle of an epic divorce, the kind the other debutante parents are probably gossiping about over wine and oysters at country-club brunch, even though it’s not a huge shock. Mom and Dad stuck it out as long as they could, but now that my older brother, Spencer, is in his second year at LSU, and I’m a senior at Beaumont, I’m pretty sure they figured,close enough.
Just before I go to meet them, something flashes to my left. A jester hat. I stop in my tracks as one of the Dukes, a tall boy, slips out the ballroom door with what looks like a bucket tucked into his side. A bucket that, if I had to guess, just played a starring role in the newest sequel toCarrie.
Nice try, asshole.I pick up my speed to follow him. If only I could actually move in this dress. But just as I open the door, a hand grips my arm.
“Viv!” It’s Savannah, worry all over her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, glancing into the hallway.Shit.The Jester’s gone. And the door’s blocked anyway, too many people spilling out. “I think so.”
Sav sighs, folding her arms over her long emerald dress. “I knew I was in for some horror-movie crap when y’all made me come to this, but I didn’t think it would be so…”
“Carrie?” I joke weakly.
“Oh my god.” Her mouth hangs open. “TheyCarrie’d the debutante ball.”
Normally, I would laugh, but I’m still coming down fromthe panic. Looking back at the throne, I realize Lily and Wyatt are gone.
“We should find Lil,” I say.
Sav nods. “But if she starts doing telekinetic murder, we’re seriously going to have to revisit this friendship.”
I know Sav’s trying to break the tension like she always does, but I can still feel how freaked out we both were a few seconds ago. Reaching into the pocket of my dress, which is the only part I could really get behind, I grab my phone and shoot my parents a text to say I’m fine and going to check on Lily. Just as I hitSEND, mic feedback screeches.
“Everyone, may I have your attention, please.” A familiar soft Southern accent: Mr. Pierce, standing at the announcer podium.
Besides being the Head of School at Beaumont, Mr. Pierce is also one of the leaders in the Krewe of Deus, the organization that runs Les Masques. Basically, if Les Masques is the debutante JV league, Deus is varsity, the real deal. If we’re lucky, us Maids will all be invited to the Deus Ball when we’re in college, but I’m not holding my breath. At that ball, the Queen is always a twenty-one-year-old debutante, and the King is a respected old dude from the Krewe, usually wearing tights. Which, you know… gross. For lots of reasons.
Mr. Pierce clears his throat. “On behalf of the Krewe of Deus, I want to sincerely apologize for the disturbance of tonight’s presentation. Rest assured, whoever is behind this cruel and disrespectful joke will be punished. Country-club security is already taking measures to track these pranksters down.”
Security? Looking around the room, all I see is one barely adult dude in a green country-club uniform mumbling into a walkie-talkie. Figures. If I had to bet, the biggest crime thisguy’s ever solved here was probably a drunk grandma misplacing her shawl.
“We hope this little blip won’t derail such a fine evening. Genevieve and the Ladies’ Krewe have worked so hard to make this a fantastic night.” Mr. Pierce nods at Mrs. Johnson, who gives a smile that barely hides the rage in her eyes. “And we all know how much the young ladies of the court and their families have been looking forward to this honor.”
Right,this honor.It’s what everyone says about scoring a Les Masques invite, Dad included, but I’m pretty sure every senior girl with a dad in Deus is asked to be a Maid. Being a debutante is probably the closest I’ll ever get to nepo-baby status.
Anyway, if this is such anhonor,every Maid still onstage probably shouldn’t look so close to bolting. Half the crowd, too. I spot Coach Davis sitting a couple rows behind my parents. He’s here with his girlfriend, Ella or Emma or something, who was apparently a Deus Maid a few years ago. I’m a little embarrassed that he’s here, honestly. Coach moved from Texas last year, when he got the job teaching PE and coaching soccer at Beaumont, so I can only imagine what this all looks like to him. There’s deb stuff all over the South, but this is about as over-the-top as it gets.
Seeing me, Coach shoots a thumbs-up with a questioning look, like,You good?I shrug, and he gives a somber nod. At least someone gets it. I turn back to the stage.
“Please, continue enjoying your drinks and the music,” Mr. Pierce says. “Let’s give these young women the night they deserve.”
He claps his gloved hands, sparking some weak applause from the half of the audience who hasn’t escaped, and Mrs. Johnson snatches the mic.
“Laissez les bons temps rouler!”
She waves at the band, and they reach for their instruments, swinging into another jazz song. Everyone seems to relax a little, and I feel it, too, like I’m cooling down from a long run. Because this is a debutante ball. Sure, it’s creepy as hell, but it’s not like anything can gothatwrong.
“Do you see her?” Sav asks, straining to see over the crowd.
One of the few nice things about being five foot nine and wearing heels is that I don’t have the same problem. I spot them by the side door of the ballroom. Lily’s ditched her crown, scepter, and cape, and her parents are shuffling her out, Wyatt trailing behind them like a golden retriever.
It takes a minute to push through the crowd, so when we finally catch up with them in the hallway, Wyatt is gone, and Lily’s talking to her parents, their voices hushed. Right away, I get the sense we’ve walked in on something we shouldn’t be seeing.
“I told you,” Lily is saying. “He had the jester mask on. I couldn’t see.”
