Acadian Star (3 page)

“Huh? Oh, I was just wondering if I should even sing my solo tonight…” Nève unplugged the CD player and wound the cord around it, then stuck it in her bag.

“What do you mean? Of course you should sing,” Meg said.

The Acadian Star competition was the biggest thing to ever happen in their tiny Cape Breton town.

“But even if I make it to the finals, I can't ask my mom and dad for money to go to Halifax. My dad got on with the lobster boats for now, but after that, who knows?” Nève picked up her bag and hugged it to her chest.

“Well, first of all,” Meg replied, “you have an awesome chance of winning. And second, if you win, I'm sure we can figure something out.”

“That's if we'll even be here.”

“What do you mean?” Meg asked.

“Well…” Nève hesitated. “My dad is waiting for a callback from Fort McMurray. We might have to move.” Nève sat on one of the wooden chairs and cast her eyes downward.

“Move?” Meg's breath caught short.

Nève nodded.

Meg saw a thousand moments flash before her eyes. Their first day of school, the millions of sleepovers, the hours and hours they'd spent singing in their bedrooms together, hairbrushes in hand. That couldn't all come to an end. Not now.

“But you can't move. We have a master plan, remember?”

“Master plan?” Nève lifted her head and gave a little laugh, despite the brimming tears.

“Yeah, you know.” Meg sat next to Nève and put her arm around her. “We're the Gallant Girls, remember? We grow up, become famous singers, tour the world, and then move into matching houses overlooking Picasse Bay. How are we supposed to do that when you're on the other side of the country?”

“Tell my dad that.” Nève sighed.

They sat silent for a long moment as kids milled around them. With the excited chatter about the upcoming evening all around her, Meg's heart ached at the possibility of losing her best friend. She forced the thought from her mind.

“Let's try not to worry about something that might not even happen.” Meg squeezed Nève's shoulder. “Just focus on tonight. I hear they're actually going to give us real microphones for our solos.”

Meg saw the beginning of Nève's smile.

“You mean no more hairbrushes?” Nève asked.

“Yup. And don't forget the finale. We're the star attraction, don't you know,” Meg said encouragingly.

Nève's eyes crinkled. “You're right. You can't keep a Gallant Girl down.”

“So you're in? You're going to sing your solo?”

“I'm in.”

Meg smiled, encouraged by her friend's brightened mood.

“Okay, kids!” Gertie Landry's voice echoed from the back of the hall. She presided over a long table covered with packages. “Those of you in the finale can pick up your costumes over here. Two lines, please!”

Gertie stood with her clipboard and pen, commandeering the proceedings with her usual efficiency.

“Évangelines over here, Gabriels to the left. Your names are on the packages in alphabetical order.”

Meg and Nève rose from their seats and crossed the hall. They shuffled along as the girls' line inched forward. Meg twirled a stray strand of hair and tried to concentrate on the night's events.

“Okay, so who's our competition?” Meg lowered her voice and leaned in towards Nève.

“Well,” Nève began, “Véronique will be judged with the seniors. Mireille, on the other hand, just squeaked into the junior group with us because she won't be thirteen until the end of September.”

“Mireille will be hard to beat,” Meg said. “Her mother's been driving her to Port Hawkesbury for music lessons ever since she could talk.”

“Good point. Now, as for the judges, that's another story. Monsieur Giroir will be easy. You know him, he pretty much loves anything. Soeur Agnes will like the traditional songs the most. But the one you really have to look out for is the visiting judge from Halifax, Madame Deveau. I heard she made someone cry at the Chéticamp competition.”

“Really?” Meg's eyes widened.

“Apparently, Madame Deveau used to live in Picasse Bay a long time ago. I hear she's expecting big things from her old hometown, so stay on her good side.”

Both friends giggled and linked arms to wait their turn.

Meg spotted their costumes first. She grabbed them and presented Nève's to her with mock formality.

“Mademoiselle Gallant.”

“Merci,” Nève replied with a curtsy. She stuck out her tongue for good measure.

They ripped the plastic away from their costumes. Just then, Mireille and Véronique came over to join them.

“Hi guys,” Meg said.

“Ugh, can you believe these are made out of wool?” Mireille thumbed the material of her costume's skirt.

“When they said they were going for the authentic look, they weren't kidding,” Véronique joked.

“Yeah, this is totally going to itch when we're dancing,” Mireille said. “Who was the brainiac who came up with this idea?” She nudged Véronique and laughed.

“I dunno. I kind of like them,” Nève said.

“Well, whatever,” Mireille said. “Ugh! Can someone
please
stop me from talking! I need to go home and rest my voice before tonight. Did you know that Céline Dion doesn't talk for three days before a concert?”

“Where'd you hear that?” Meg asked.

“Oh, some tabloid at the grocery store checkout, I think. And I also read that Mariah Carey drinks only licorice root tea. My voice coach says it helps to maintain perfect pitch.”

“You don't say,” Nève said, then turned to Meg. “Oh Meg, can you help me braid my hair before the finale?”

“Sure…” Meg hesitated. “Oh, no wait, I can't.” Meg remembered the promise she had made to Tante Perle.

“Why not?” Nève asked.

“I…I've got something I need to do.” Meg stole a glance at Mireille, now deep in conversation with Véronique.

“Like what?” Nève asked.

“Um, I just told Tante Perle I'd go get her for the finale,” Meg whispered, making sure no one else heard. She remembered how everyone at school had made fun of her great-aunt.

“That's so nice of you, Meg. I bet Tante Perle's gonna love it,” Nève said.

Meg winced at the sound of her great-aunt's name and crouched to jam her costume into her backpack.

“Squirrelly Perley?” Mireille looked up and let out a laugh. “Is she still going on about dolphins in Picasse Bay?”

“What?” Nève said. “It could happen.”

“Dolphins around here? Yeah, right,” Mireille continued. “Look guys, I know she's your great-aunt and everything, but you have to admit that lady's got a one-way ticket to the Butterscotch Palace. And who the heck is that Marguerite she keeps talking about, anyway?”

Meg stiffened but forced a smile. “Oh, probably just one of her crazy imaginary friends. You know our Tante Perle.”

“Ha ha, what a joke.” Mireille shook her head and laughed.

“Don't you need to go rest your voice or something?” Nève asked.

“Oh! Thanks for reminding me. Well, see you guys later!” She turned to Véronique as they walked away. “Do you think the grocery store has licorice root tea?”

Nève shot Meg a look.

“What?” Meg asked.

“Why did you have to make fun of Tante Perle like that?” Nève asked.

“What? It's no big deal.” Meg avoided Nève's gaze and finished stuffing her costume in her backpack.

Nève was about to reply but Meg cut her off with a glance at her watch.

“Shoot, it's already late. See you back here after supper, all right?” She busied herself with her backpack's zipper.

“Fine.” Nève's voice softened to a whisper. When Meg looked up, her cousin was gone.

Meg sighed. Just great, she thought. Now Nève was mad at her. Maybe she didn't have to say that about Tante Perle, but she didn't want anyone finding out who the real ‘Marguerite' was, least of all Mireille. Then again, if she had just explained the situation, maybe Nève would have understood.

Or maybe she just shouldn't have invited Tante Perle to the concert in the first place…

Chapter 4

“B
UT,
M
OM
!” Meg yanked open the parish hall's side door and stepped inside.

“
Chérie
, you told Tante Perle you'd go get her. She'll be expecting you.” They stepped down the short flight of stairs that led to the hall basement. “Take Nève with you.”

A din of excited noises rose from the throngs of competitors as they readied themselves for the night's performance. Meg and her mother picked up concert programs from the table at the base of the stairs.

“Wouldn't it just be easier if you went? Please…” Meg begged in a hushed tone.

“Meg, you're the first to sing right after the opening act.” Madame Gallant scanned the program. “You should have lots of time before the finale.”

“But Tante Perle's so…” Meg paused for a moment, searching for the word.

Madame Gallant tipped her head and raised her eyebrows.

“You know what I mean,” Meg said. “Plus, now she's started calling me
that name
.”

“She's just showing how proud she is that we named you after her.”

“I'm named after her?” Meg groaned. “Great. This just keeps getting better and better.”

“Didn't I ever tell you that?”

“I think that's something I would have remembered,” Meg muttered.

“Well I suppose—how could you know? Perle is a nickname for Marguerite, just like Meg is.”

“Not so loud.” Meg tugged at her mother's coat. She was sure she saw a dozen people look their way. “You know I hate being called that.”

“Well, it's a Gallant tradition. Every generation has had a Marguerite. Unless there were no girls in the family, of course, like with your dad and Uncle Vince,” Madame Gallant said. “I think it goes back to the very first generation of Gallants, when Michel Haché took on the surname…”

Spare me the history lesson, Meg thought.

“Yeah well, that's not even the point. You should hear some of the other stuff she's been saying around town.”

“Oh, I know Tante Perle can be a bit eccentric.” Madame Gallant turned to Meg and straightened the collar of her daughter's shirt. “But I expect you to be nice, okay?”

Meg sighed. “Okay.”

“Ten minutes to curtain time!” Gertie bellowed across the excited mass of competitors, clipboard in hand.

“Kiss?” Madame Gallant puckered her lipsticked mouth and gave Meg a peck on the cheek. Meg scrunched her face, knowing full well that it was now smudged with Wineberry Red #115. She rubbed the back of her hand against her cheek.

Her mom smiled.

“You go out and do your very best. And don't worry about the judges, okay,
chérie
?” With that, her mother disappeared upstairs to the main hall to take her seat.

Meg scanned the room for Nève and found her sitting with Mireille at the far end of the hall basement. Maybe Nève would go with her to get Tante Perle, like her mom had suggested. Then Meg could explain the whole Marguerite thing to her like she should have done in the first place. She threaded her way through the noisy crowd and joined her friends.

“Hi guys.” She dumped her backpack beside them.

“Hey, Meg. You ready for the big night?” Mireille asked, not waiting for a reply. “Oh my gosh, I'm nervous like you wouldn't
believe
. I told my mom if I didn't win tonight, she should
demand
her money back from all those music lessons.” She laughed, then eyed Meg. “No offence.”