There's a (Slight) Chance I Might Be Going to Hell A Novel of Sewer Pipes, Pageant Queens, and Big Trouble

Prologue SPRING, 1956 The moment the girl stepped onto the stage, the circle of a spotlight swung toward her, announcing her presence above the audience in a sheer, clean illumination. The crowd before her suddenly quieted, as if expecting something truly spectacular to occur. It wouldhaveto be spectacular; after all, Mary Lou Winton, the contestant before her, had let loose a greased baby pig onstage, which she managed to lasso, hog-tie, and brandwith a branding iron fashioned to look like a sewer pipe, no lessin a definitive nine seconds flat. It was, in fact, confirmed by the audience, who counted down as Mary Lou whipped that rope and then stomped over to plunge the glowing iron. And it was further rumored that Ruth Watson was planning to bring her rifle out onto the stage and shoot every winged fowl right out of the sky, all in her evening gown attire, for her talent segment. Farm antics, the girl scoffed to herself, wondering if such a thing really could be considered as a talent or just an episode of unfortunate breeding. She knew she could not let any of that concern her as she looked out over the crowd, searching the faces. She knew almost everyoneeveryone who was waiting to hear her sing. She smiled softly, an expression that seemed gentle. If only I had ruby slippers, she thought to herself. The light that would have caught them would have been astounding, the sparkle would have bounced off of them like rockets, far more impressive than an oily piglet or dead birds. She looked down at her feet, at her pair of last year's Sunday shoesnow buffed a bright cherry red by her father, who had been so proud when he surprised her with themand saw that they did not sparkle, but produced a dull, minuscule shine. Behind her, she heard Mrs. A. Melrose from the church choir begin playing the piano; this was her cue, and the pianist had better keep time. Although she considered herself a devoted Christian woman overflowing with generosity, Mrs. Melrose thought little of donating her time to the endeavor and suggested that instead she exchange her musical services for the girl's scrubbing a week's worth of the accompanist's and her flatulent husband's laundry. Despite the gruesome task that lay ahead in the Melroses' wash bin the next day, the girl continued to smile as she drew a deep, full breath, so full that the replica blue gingham pinafore fashioned from a picnic tablecloth seemed to expand slightly, making the ketchup stains that stubbornly remained on the cloth look like she had encountered Ruth Watson's rifle. She waited: one, two, three. The next note was hers. She was ready. "Somewheeeeere over the rainbow . . ." Her voice glided sweetly over the stage into the audience and twirled in the air above them like magic. She could see it on the faces of the people watching her, listening to her, heads tilted slightly to the side, as they smiled back at her. This was no pig roping event, and no explosion of feathers was going to trickle down from the clouds. This was talent. I have it, she thought giddily to herself as she finished the first verse, as her voice continued on clear, strong, and with the right touch of delicacy. It is mine. She saw him, standing in the back, far beyond the crowd assembled in the squarethe most handsome man she had ever seen in real life, the one who could save her. With a bouquet spilling with flowers in the crook of his arm, he leaned up against his brand-new powder-blue Packard Caribbean convertible with its whitewall tires and gleaming, curvaceous chrome bumpers. It was a glorious machine. It suited him. Cars like that were rare in this toNotaro, Laurie is the author of 'There's a (Slight) Chance I Might Be Going to Hell A Novel of Sewer Pipes, Pageant Queens, and Big Trouble', published 2007 under ISBN 9780812975727 and ISBN 0812975723.