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On the studio screen, the girls waved. They had gotten pretty good at waving, but they had never enjoyed it more than they did right now. Ladybird Hope broke the pen in her hand into two pieces.
BARRY REX: How about that? They’re okay!
ADINA: Hi! You would not believe the crazy night we had, Barry. What with Ladybird Hope trying to kill us and all. So, you know, sorry if we look like shit. Anyway, it’s such a long story, and we are currently on vacation, so we’re just going to leave you with this video and a PowerPoint presentation. Enjoy! Bye!
Ladybird Hope’s smile twitched at the corners as the video came over the feed. Barry Rex’s eyes widened.
BARRY REX: Well. Is that … the Republic of ChaCha?
“It’s somebody’s Republic of ChaCha,” a camera operator murmured.
A half hour later, as Ladybird Hope left the studio, crowds had gathered again. But they were not cheering or holding up KEEP AMERICA PRETTY signs. No one shot play gun fingers at her with a wink. The faces were angry. Yelling. Ladybird Hope was not enjoying this moment in the spotlight. Still, she gave them a smile and a thumbs-up. “Keep your chins up. The truth will come out.”
“The truth just did come out, you murderer!” a woman shouted.
A bonfire billowed up. Some in the crowd tossed copies of Ladybird’s book into the fire while a librarian pleaded with them not to do that and grabbed a fire extinguisher.50 Ladybird Hope made her way through the angry mob to her car, where two federal agents in dark suits waited for her. If she squinted, she could almost pretend they were secret service and she was the president.
48Beena, the Bollywood actress and singer whose “Hindi Hindi Shake” made her a club sensation in 1999 before the “India-pop” craze was replaced by the “Pakistani Soul” sensation.
49Hip-Hopera’s La-La Boheme, the Jamaica, Queens-based urban arts collective’s hip-hop retelling of Puccini’s opera, which was protested by Concerned Citizens of America First for allowing more than ten black people on one stage at the same time.
50Really, being a librarian is a much more dangerous job than you realize.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
It was the most highly rated Miss Teen Dream Pageant ever. Though there were only thirteen contestants, the curiosity about seeing these survivors — fanned by an Internet ad campaign that hinted at unsavory sexual secrets and possible cannibalism — drew a record number of viewers. Sadly, without continued sponsorship from The Corporation, the program was canceled and replaced with new episodes of the reality show about Amish girls rooming with strippers, Girls Gone Rumspringa.
The media were calling LadybirdGate the sex scandal of the century. One tabloid referred to her as “Ladybird Ho.” Articles appeared in newspapers and blogs decrying the moral decay of girls in general. On TV, talking heads wrung their hands over a lack of traditional feminine values and wondered if girls’ sports were to blame. Then they cut to a commercial featuring a sexy college coed vacuuming her dorm room in her underwear.
Shanti shook her head. “All those crimes, and, like, all anybody can focus on is a sex scandal.”
“Yeah, The Corporation will probably only get a slap on the wrist and get to set up shop somewhere else. Everything’s being blamed on Ladybird. Typical.”
“She may be a D-E-W-S-H, but it’s not all her fault,” Tiara agreed.
“You’re uncharacteristically quiet over there, New Hampshire,” Petra said.
Adina wasn’t watching the continuing coverage on the yacht’s TV. Instead, she stared out at the sea. “Just thinking about Taylor.”
Nicole put a hand on Adina’s shoulder. “Hey, you tried to find her. We all did.”
It was true. They’d gone looking. They’d searched everywhere, with no luck. What Adina hadn’t told anyone was this: As she’d passed the secret cave in the jungle where Taylor had hidden for so long, she’d found the beauty queen’s sash and dress hung neatly from a tree, abandoned. And just beyond that, she’d thought she’d seen a flash of blond hair in the trees. But then it was gone.
The newscaster’s voice whined from the TV. “Do you think these girls, these Teen Dreamers, all those things they did — and Tom, we’re hearing about wild things now — do you think it has to do with sex ed in the schools? Or are girls just getting more brazen? And what does this mean for society in general? Should we be scared of our daughters?”
“They don’t get it,” Shanti said with a sigh.
“Do you think they ever will?” Nicole asked.
“Fuck ‘em,” Sosie said. She flipped off the TV and chucked the Miss Teen Dream manual into the trash can.
From her perch in the tree, Taylor watched them go. The orphaned snake slithered down from the trees and she let it rest upon her shoulders like a beautiful, iridescent boa.
“My stars, this sure is a big mess, isn’t it?” she said, walking over the ruined land near the volcano. It wasn’t terrible, really. Just needed some elbow grease and then it would shine and sparkle like a crown. The snake nuzzled her cheek and flicked its tongue. Taylor stroked its head gently and it settled.
She had a busy day ahead. There was an island to tame. Creatures to name. A world to build.
Whatever would she wear?
