The Pearl Inside of Anything

3:58 p.m., Hair Expo mainstage

There are six of us that made it. Me, Campfire, Carmen Miranda, Sea Anemone, Christmas Tree and Waterfall. Of all of us, I think Carmen Miranda is the most transformed. She was just an empty salad bowl yesterday and today she's got on a tiered skirt in turquoise, a red belt, and a yellow, off-the-shoulder ruffled blouse. Plus a whole bunch of sugared fruit piled on top of her head. Campfire looks the same as yesterday, lace-up logger boots, jeans, a plaid lumberjack shirt, and her pile of flaming hair, reaching for the ceiling. Waterfall is ultra elegant, in silver shoes and a long silver dress with a matching train. Of all of us, hers is the only hair that moves, super-sleek and swingy over her shoulders. Sea Anemone is stunning, her eye makeup is a rainbow of green, purple and laser pink that starts and the inner corner of her eyes and sweeps all the way out to her temples. Eiffel Tower is all in black again, but I notice little crystals have been added to her tower's joints.

Christmas Tree is full-blown over the top. She's holding the control-end for a cord to a set of blinky-lights that threads through her shirt and coils right up to the top of the tree and a tatty-looking angel holding a hymnbook. The tree tilts to the right, and the angel teeters to the left. Very drunken holiday. It makes me nervous just to look at her.

Patrick is somewhere upfront with Yvonne; Yammy's here with Tommy and me. Security seems a little loose, but I'm glad because Yammy tilts her head at Carmen, shimmies her shoulders and starts singing "Her name is Lola. She was a showgirl..." which totally cracks me up. She hums a little more "Copa Cabana" and saunters over to the sound guy.

I'm standing next to Eiffel. She's staring off into the distance. Of all of us, Eiffel has the look of a runway model. Like she wants a cigarette or a sandwich or both really badly. People are chatting quietly around us, I try to think of something to say.

Shoes, the universal bonding topic. Start with shoes.

"Um, those are...nice shoes?" I offer hesitantly. Eiffel dials her head slowly in my direction and looks coldly down, way down at me.

"Well they should be," she snorts. "I wore them on the runway in Milan. I didn't get paid for that show, so I just kept them. What a bunch of morons," she says, rolling her eyes. "By the way, you've got something sticking out of yours."

I stoop down and stuff a cotton ball back down out of sight. Maybe I would've been better off borrowing a pair of Mum's orthopedic Oxfords.

Eiffel is thin as a willow,  with a face like Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty. Her eyes are icy and she looks me up and down scornfully. "What are you anyway, Calamity Jane?"

Good one. I should've spent the day studying quick comebacks instead of Beowulf. Luckily it doesn't matter, because I hear the tinkle of little bells beside me.

"Tornado, right? Fabulous!" Christmas Tree says and not waiting for an answer, steers me away by my elbow, saying casually to Eiffel Tower, "Sorry, I feel a chill in this corner all of a sudden. Don't you?"

"Never mind Suzanne," says Christmas Tree. "She is just more thorns than rose. But we put up with her, it's her fifth time here, and she's never won. That'll put the bitter in anyone. Just don't let her spoil the fun, okay? Anyway, I'm Louisa Chang, and you're...?"

"Wendy. Wendy Riley."

"Swell! It's nice to meet someone new! Listen, we all go for drinks after the finals. Do you want to come?"

I tell her I'm fifteen, and I have to babysit my little brother after the show.

"Fifteen! Wow. That's SO GREAT. I remember fifteen!"

"Oh well, I don't know how great it is. I means some days, but hey... is it heavy, the tree, you know?"

Louisa is shorter than I am. The tree on her head makes her look even tinier.

Louisa giggles. "Oh, it's okay, but I can't believe we drew holiday décor two years in a row. I mean, geez, last year I was a Thanksgiving horn-o-plenty. It wasn't so good. Too many plastic vegetables. We didn't even make the semis. But this is pretty, I think," she rolls her eyes upwards. "I mean, how can anyone not love a Christmas Tree? The little red lanterns were my idea. John, my husband, would never think of that. But they are lucky, my parents always put them on the tree when I was a kid."

I think her tree is a little tipsy looking, like it got into the eggnog and rum balls and didn't know when to stop.

"Is it itchy?" I ask her.

"Totally! Drives me nuts, but I'm used to it. John goes crazy if I try to scratch. None of his customers will put up with doing this, so I'm his model. We have a good time here—it's a nice break from the kids. Hey! Jackie!" she waves Sea Anemone to come over and join us.

"Jack, Wendy. Wendy, Jack."

"Nice to meet you, Wendy. Is this your first time here? We thought you were great yesterday! Didn't we, Lou? Are you having a gas?"

I nod for everything. It's hard not to be stunned by Sea Anemone. She doesn't even look like she's wearing foundation, she glows in a regal way that makes me feel very pale.

"Comin' for drinks after?"

"She can't!" says Lou. "She's only fifteen! Can you believe it?"

Christmas Tree tells us Campfire's name is Kate, "...she's in school to be a hairdresser. They make her do this as part of her training. At least it gets her out of sweeping up in the salon for a week." Waterfall is Joni and Carmen Miranda is Laura. She's known for being a really good sport from the year her stylist made her hair into a violet-coloured, swooping horse's mane like the kind you see on a carousel.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO THE SOLO SCULPTURE FINALS..."

"Ooh! 'Scuze me, guys! That's my cue." Sea Anemone, I mean, Jackie, turns and glides to the part in the curtain where the light is coming in.

"Jack won last year," says Louisa proudly as she sails out past the curtain. "So she goes on first, place of honour and all that."

"Really?"

"Uh huh. It was so excellent; she was a bird's nest, with three golden eggs inside. At the finals her stylist replaced one of the eggs with a live baby chicken."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope, so not. It pooped all over the place—don't remind her about that part—but it blew everyone away. She totally deserved to win."

"So what's with the Joe?" Louisa asks, pointing a tiny finger at the doll in my hair.

"Oh, uh...he got caught up in it, I guess," I crack a small smile and roll my eyes. "Tommy's last minute inspiration."

"Ah! Well, that's really ... something?" she says, uncertainly.

"OUR NEXT STYLE IS BY JOHN GIRELLI OF SALON CASSANDRA..."

Louisa waves good-bye at me and jingles away. I watch her step into the stage lights just as Yammy comes back.

"Good news! Sound Guy took the tape, I bribed him with a Three Musketeers. And he was going to play Steve Winwood for Carmen there, which was just so wrong. Lucky thing for her I had my Best of Barry Manilow cassette with me. She'll be fine now."

"You traitor! Whose team are you on, anyway?" I nudge her with my elbow.

"The way I see it," says Yammy, "you're all in this together. And this, if you don't mind me saying, is a little weird. Interesting weird, but weird. At least you can all have the right tunes. Didn't have any Edith Piaf for Fifi there though," she says, looking at Eiffel Tower. "She's on her own."

"Yammy?"

"Yuh huh?"

"I'm so glad you're here."

"Well, you know, You gotta friend..." she sings happily and gives my arm a squeeze.