School of Charm by Lisa Ann Scott

brushed at the stains on her dress. We washed up in the bathroom and walked slowly into the dining room.
    Grandma’s lips tightened and turned white. “Brenda! I told you not to get any dirtier. And I told you to get changed into a new dress. And, lordy, look at Ruthie.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue.
    I looked at Mama, waiting for her to step between us and tell me that she once had a white dress that was covered from top to bottom in grass and that she scrubbed for two days to get it out. But she got it out.
    Instead Mama frowned and yanked the dress over Ruthie’s head. She started inspecting the stains and closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I’m used to you being a tomboy, Brenda, but don’t pull Ruthie into your shenanigans. Go put on some new clothes, Ruthie. And you heard your grandmother, Brenda. Get changed.”
    Ruthie scampered up the stairs. I stared at Mama in disbelief. She’d never cared what I wore before. But I followed Ruthie up and threw open my closet. I hadn’t noticed the three stupid, ugly dresses hanging in there before. One of them was dotted with red cherries, like I was supposed to be some kind of sundae. The next one was purple with a tiny rainbow across the chest. The one I picked to put on was the ugliest of all, just to show Grandma how dumb this dress-up-for-dinner idea was. The dress was brown, like dirt, with yellow ducks holding umbrellas. Was this Grandma’s way of telling me she didn’t like me? Guess Mama hadn’t made Grandma promise to get along with me.
    I came back down and Grandma nodded for me to sit.
    â€œYou look very nice, Chip,” Mama said. “Aren’t you going to thank your grandmother?”
    â€œThank you, Grandma.” For making me look like the biggest dummy in all the United States of America.
    â€œYes, that’s real, real nice, Chip. Just perfect for you,” Charlene said, the corner of her mouth twitching. “And what a nice bracelet. Where’d you get that? Your boyfriend back home?”
    I gripped my wrist. “He’s not my boyfriend. I found it,” I said quickly. “Out in the woods when I was exploring.”
    Charlene pushed her salad around with her fork. “Exploring.” She rolled her eyes. “Listen, I know you’re different from us, Chip, but don’t try to make Ruthie be like you. She’s one of us. She doesn’t get dirty. She likes pretty things.”
    Her words hit me in the stomach. Charlene had never said anything like that to me before.
    Mama’s fingers rubbed her temples and she let out a deep breath.
    Grandma started humming again. “Charlene’s right. The tomboy thing isn’t going to work down here, Brenda.”
    â€œChip’s not like regular girls, Grandma. She can’t help it. Her best friend was a boy. She plays in the mud.” Charlene pointed her fork at me and let the silence hang for a moment. “Now, Ruthie’s pageant material. Chip doesn’t even have a talent. I’ve been singing and dancing since I was Ruthie’s age. And we should get her started on lessons too.”
    I opened my mouth to tell them about Miss Vernie’s school, but clamped it shut. I wasn’t going back there to join a stupid pageant; I was going because Miss Vernie’s woods were nice and she was, too, and because I couldn’t stand to be in this house longer than I had to, especially if I was supposed to be getting along with Grandma while she was busy buying me ugly dresses.
    â€œYou know, girls, the Miss Dogwood Festival actually has three divisions: the Miss division, the Junior Miss division, and the Little Miss.” Grandma slapped her hands on the table. “We should enter Ruthie! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. There’s still time; the deadline to enter is in two days.”
    â€œRuthie, you want to join a pageant like Char-Char?” Charlene