I step up on his shoulder and jump onto the table where people were filling in their forms, ignoring the steward who looks like his head might implode. I still have my beer in my hand, so I finish it off and put it down gently on the table (it’s glass and there are people around; I’m not a sociopath) then leap onto the big round table next to it, still hearing Roxy screamingmy name.
“Fourteen, thirteen . . .”
There’s a row of stacked chairs along the wall, lined up all the way to the stage. I back up as far as I can on the round table, smooth down my dress and take a breath.
“This is for you, Dorothy,” I whisper.
I run across the white tablecloth and leap from the edge, my hands out ready. I hit the top of the chairs and grab at the plastic, but I can’t get my grip and I fall, feeling the stack of chairs wobble ominously as I cling to them, falling backwards.
“Ten, nine . . .”
“No!” I cry out, Dorothy’s big, wrinkly eyes clear in my head.
I’m going backwards. I’m going backwards and the stack of chairs will land on top of me and crush me, but probably not as badly as Roxy will because I expect she’s livid with me right now.
It’s over. It’s all over.
“Eight, seven . . .”
I look towards the stage, trying to pull myself up, when I feel someone suddenly take my weight and push me upfrom my feet. I gasp and climb up until I’m standing on the top chair, and look round, my heart overwhelmed with hope.
“Go!” shouts a voice. Someone dressed as Masquerade Ball Orion waves his arm towards the stage, jumping up and down a little. “You can still make it!”
I nod, then turn and leap along the stack of chairs until I get to the last one – but there’s a gap in front of me.
I’m not going to make it.
“Give me your hand!” another voice calls from the edge of the stage.
I look up, but the lights are blinding and the sound of people counting down is disorientating, so I can’t see who’s standing across from me. Plus, I probably shouldn’t have just chugged that beer.
“Give me your hand!” they shout again.
It’s a girl’s voice, I think, and I reach towards her outstretched hand. I clasp my fingers around hers and she grabs me firmly. I jump across the gap and land safely in front of her. She lifts up her jewel-encrusted mask, the rubies co-ordinating with the floor-length gown she’s absolutely rocking, and she smiles down at me. I look into her green, feline eyes, and realise, with horror, who she is.
“You’re welcome,” says Vivian Erikksen, Queen of the Awfuls, looking me up and down.
“Six, five . . .”
She reaches into her cleavage and retrieves a folded piece of paper. I mean, whodoesthat? Vivian, apparently.She turns towards the cauldron and flicks her long hair over her shoulder, getting me right in the eye in the process.
“Four, three . . .”
She strides across the stage and drops her entry into the cauldron, and I gape at her as she takes a little curtsey before jumping off the stage and actually crowd-surfing away.I mean . . .
“MOVE YOUR ARSE, CURLY!”
Dorothy’s voice snaps me back to the present and I spot her in the audience with Roxy and Fake McKinley, all three of them waving their arms like windmills.
“Two . . .”
I blink and stumble across the stage, falling a few feet from the cauldron, but dropping the three entries in as I tumble to the ground.
“ONE!”
The crowd erupts and I roll my head to the side, smiling back at Roxy, Dorothy and Fake McKinley who are jumping up and down (if their hips allow) and clapping. A fourth person stands next to Roxy, and I smile at Masquerade Ball Orion then mouththank youto him, because it seems like something a hero wouldsay to an innocent bystander in a film. He mouths backyou’re welcome,then smiles back at me.
My stomach lurches. That’s not the smile of an innocent bystander. It’s the smile of my arch nemesis (or one of them. I feel like they’re multiplying every hour I’m here). I lift my head, just as he reaches up and pulls his mask off. Roxy’s eyebrows fly up when she realises Masquerade Ball Orion is actually Charlie Chamberlain.
