Page 39 of Pageant

We’re a silent, sad group as we’re escorted from the soundproof room by two guards back to our cellar. Deja and I are supporting Hedda, who’s shaking uncontrollably and barely seems to be aware of her surroundings. Deja and I exchange worried glances.

“Are you okay? I thought they were going to…” Deja swallows, the words too horrible to speak aloud.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, aware that one of the guards has his beady glare on us and there’s an assault rifle slung from his shoulder. Two years ago, Elyah pursued me relentlessly once he made up his mind that I should be his. He will pursue my death with even more persistence. Two broken arms won’t be enough to soothe his burning sense of betrayal.

The guards let us use the bathroom and I wait in line to use the single toilet, splash cold water over my face from the tap, and drink a few mouthfuls. Deja and I wash the blood from Hedda’s nose and chin and help her back to her cage. I think her nose is broken. She sits on the edge of her bed, dazed and unresponsive.

Someone has put a bottle of water and a packet of instant ramen on the floor of every cell, including mine. I’m not going to be starved, after all. Not at every meal, anyway.

The guards lock us into our cells and then turn around and leave us, switching off the single bare lightbulb and leaving us in gloom. A few rays of late afternoon sunlight are filtering through a tiny grate high on the wall.

“How are we supposed to eat dry noodles?” grumbles one of the women.

Klara says from two cells down, “Break the noodles up before you open the packet, and then shake the flavoring over and eat the pieces like potato chips.”

Rustling and crunching noises fill the air as everyone follows her instructions, including me.

Imani, in the cell on my left, says around a mouthful, “Hey, that’s actually not bad.”

“The things you learn as a broke student,” Klara replies with a laugh.

I munch and swallow automatically, turning over the events of the past few hours. The layout of the judging room disturbs me. I wonder whose idea it was that we’re kept in fear and suspense as we watch the guards drag each contestant away before they come for us, then force us to watch the women that follow. It’s sick.

Along the row of cells, I can hear Deja whispering comforting words to Hedda, who’s started to cry. Hedda doesn’t seem to hear her.

A soft voice calls out to me. “Lilia, are you there?”

It’s Olivia in the cell on my right. I take my half-eaten packet of noodles and sit down on the cold concrete floor by the bars, picturing the tanned woman with long brown hair and copper-colored eyes sitting against the wall that separates us. “I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Me?” she gives a hollow laugh. “I forgot, you didn’t see what happened to me.”

I clutch the bars. “What happened?”

“Absolutely nothing. Konstantin asked me a few questions. Kirill was drumming on his thighs. Elyah didn’t even look at me. I think I bored them. I saw through the glass how they reacted to you. They were dying to get to you, like you were the main event.”

I sigh in relief. “You played it perfectly. You didn’t break down and you didn’t become defiant. Keep doing that and you’ll make it through.”

“After seeing what happened to Hedda, I absolutely will not talk back to those psychos,” Olivia says with a shudder. “But you, Lilia. You were this close to being maimed or killed. I’m begging you, never make those men angry again.”

I wish I could see Olivia’s face and she could see mine. There’s so much I want to express to her. Gratitude. Friendship. It’s been a long time since anyone butBabulyatruly cared what happened to me. “I only did as I was asked. Konstantin wanted to be entertained, so I put on a show.”

“Boy, did you,” she says with a laugh.

Her accent is unusual and not one I’ve heard before. “Where are you from? Britain?”

“Yeah. Essex, not far from London. People laugh at me because of that.”

“Why?”

“Because Essex women have a reputation for being stupid and tacky, not runway models. It’s a horrible cliché. There are TV shows about it. I love where I’m from and I love my Essex friends. I’ve actually lost jobs after designers hear me speak, can you believe it? Like my accent is going to tarnish their dresses.”

Olivia doesn’t sound annoyed, but I’m indignant. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Yeah. It would be a nice problem to have right now, wouldn’t it?”

I glance at the bars of my cage and realize she’s right.

“I’d tell you all about my home and my mum and my dog, but…” Her voice cracks. “I think I might cry if I do.”

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