Stay in your Lane (On Hold)

Chapter Seven ~ Auction

Chapter Seven

The harvest festival had been around since Mrs. Joyce was a baby. Every year, the entire field off I65 would be filled with booths, games, and festive decor. Everybody went. People brought their goods to sell. Mama and others baked their potential prize-winning pies. Kids roasted hotdogs and marshmallows over big, heaping bonfires, and strings of yellow lights gave the night a dim glow.

My favorite part since I was a little girl was the booth-decorating competition. I weaved through the crowds, taking in each stall as I passed. People really outdid themselves with the decorations. There were pumpkins and hay bales, scarecrows and glittering fall leaves.

"I got a three legged dog can play ball better than that!" Cletus Jenkins shouted from inside a dunk tank, voice muffled by plexiglas. He was egging on Delmer, who was too drunk to stand upright, let alone hit the target.

Delmer threw the ball again, and the sound of them faded into the background as I moved further through the crowd. Baked goods filled my nose, October air hugged my skin, and all around me were happy people. People I'd known all my life. As much as I wanted to get away from Bugtussle, there were times when I couldn't imagine ever living anywhere else.

"There you are!" Mama linked her arm through mine, yanking me forward. "I told you the auction started at eight!"

I heaved a breath. I hadn't forgotten. How could I? Or, more importantly, how had she somehow managed to, once again, get me to agree? To this. Of all things. This was too much like a pageant, and I'd outright refused to ever do those again. Not since the Miss Fourth of July incident, in which Mama incorporated sparklers into my hair style.

I wouldn't recommend it.

She led me to the stage. Yep, this was a pageant. Already, a row of girls stood like Miss America contestants. There may not be a sash, or a crown, or anything else that went along with the dog-eat-dog world of beauty queens. But the bigger issue remained; Mama wanted to win. She'd want her daughter to be the best. Same as she wanted her blueberry pie to beat out Mrs. Joyce's pecan.

Mama rushed us up the stairs and positioned me like a kid who'd forgotten their place in the school play. Her heels click-clacked to the front of the stage. She snatched the microphone from its stand. "How y'all doin' tonight?"

Cheers rang up from the waiting crowd below.

"I am just so pleased to see all your smiling faces!" Mama smiled wide, her charisma undeniable. If she knew anything at all, it was how to get people to love her. She'd learned the skill from her mother, who'd learned it from hers, and so on and so forth since Eve bit the apple.

"As you all know, it is our yearly mission to ensure every resident of Bugtussle gets a proper Thanksgiving."

More cheers; Mama paused to soak them in.

"And thanks to these lovely ladies behind me, I have faith we'll exceed that goal this year!"

Hoots and hollers galore.

"As promised on this year's flyers, we will be auctioning off the honor of accompanying these beauties on the harvest moon hayride!"

Roars of jubilee. It really didn't take much to get these people excited.

Mama turned back and waved Patsy forward.

I bit my cheek, the memory of prom too fresh in my mind. Patsy's screwed up face as she tossed her punch down the front of my perfect dress. We hadn't spoken since that night. Well, she'd said plenty, and I'd avoided her like the plague.

"First up, we have the gorgeous Miss Patsy. Let's start the bidding at fifty dollars. Do I have fifty?"

"Fifty!" one man shouted.