Wanting Sheila Dead(7)

“Everybody does know where Scarsdale is,” Shari said.

“I’m about ready to pop,” Linda said. “I can’t believe they left us standing out here in the rain. And I’ve got a million rosaries on me, and I’ll bet all of them are wet.”

“You didn’t look to me like the kind of person who would be carrying around rosaries,” Shari said.

“My mother gave them to me,” Linda said. “She wants me to win. But it’s no big deal. I mean, it’s not like you can’t have a tattoo here and there, and still be a good Catholic. I don’t have tattoos of the devil or anything. It’s just a snake.”

“It’s a snake the size of a swimming pool,” Shari said. “And I’ll bet you got it some night when you were out drinking. I make it a point only to drink when I’m safe in my own home. When I go out, I stick to one rum and Coke, or a glass of wine. You never know what’s going to happen to you when you go out.”

“That’s just because you don’t have advantages,” Linda said. “You blow a gasket some weekend and what happens? You go to temple and feel guilty. I go to confession and get it all taken care of, and then I’m on my way.”

“It won’t help you much if you end up with a warthog tattooed on your ass next time.”

Coraline looked up toward the head of the line. She really could see it now, and she could see that they were letting girls in one by one, or more like five by five. They were letting them in, in little clumps, at any rate. There was somebody with a clipboard.

Coraline was very cold, and she was wet in spite of the umbrella. There was a lot of wind. Rain kept slashing against her legs, and she had nothing on her legs but stockings. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to think. It was all very well for Pastor Thomas to talk about what an influence she could be, and how much the world needed the example of a good Christian girl. How did he know what she would be like when she got away from home and around people who weren’t even Christians at all, or didn’t like them? She had heard that Sheila Dunham didn’t like Christians, and Sheila Dunham was running this whole show.

Besides, even people in the media who were in parts of the country who did like Christians went wrong. Think about Nashville. Country-music singers were always talking about how much they loved Jesus, and yet they ran around drinking themselves to death, and taking drugs, and sleeping with people they weren’t even married to or . . . well, or anything. There was something that went wrong when people got famous. Coraline was sure of that.

“Hey,” Linda Kowalski said. “You know, I think you’ve probably got a good chance to get on the show.”

“Excuse me?” Coraline said.

“I think you’ve got a good chance to get on the show,” Linda said again. “I mean, you must be practically the only person here from Alabama—”

“People get on this show from the South,” Coraline said quickly. “There was a girl just the season before last who was from Mississippi.”

Coraline didn’t know this from her own experience. Her mother had told her about it. Her mother watched the show every single week it was on, and she watched the extras and specials where they interviewed winners and contestants and talked about what they were doing now. Coraline’s mother thought it was absolutely the most wonderful thing in the world that Coraline was going to try out for this show.

“Pastor Thomas is right,” Mama said. “The world could use the example of a good Christian girl. Besides, honey, you’re the prettiest girl in this town and a hundred more like it. You’re prettier than Miranda ever could be. That has to count for something.”

Coraline didn’t know what counted for what, and she didn’t care. She had figured it out. Rosaries meant Catholic—Linda Kowalski was Catholic. And temple meant Jews. Shari Bernstein was a Jew. There was a Catholic church back in Southport, a really tiny one, but Coraline had never met any of the people who went there. She had never met a Jewish person at all. Her throat felt very tight. She thought she was going to cry.

“For God’s sake,” Shari said. “She’s just about ready to collapse. You’re scaring the hell out of her.”

“Oh, no,” Coraline said. “No, really. I’m just nervous. I’ll be all right in a minute—”

The surge could not have come from directly behind them. There wasn’t much of anything directly behind them. There was still a surge. Coraline felt herself pitching sideways, against Linda Kowalski’s back. Shari Bernstein caught her so that she didn’t fall.