America's Junior Miss

America’s Junior Miss

Magic and myth, gods and heroes are the substance of Georgette’s practice in clinical psychology. When she can’t escape her cave of depression following the suicide of a patient, who better to come to the rescue than her teenage son, Emile? After all, the high school junior has acquired a few superpowers of his own from his exposure via Wolf-mom to Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell’s world of dreams. But his mother’s in such a bad place, how can he help her without meddling in her business, invading her space, or getting his head bit off?

Emile’s crazy scheme starts innocently enough, but he still hasn’t seen any results. If playing women’s athletics and dressing up like Cindy Brady hasn’t managed to get Georgette’s attention, what more can the boy do to help her out of her cave? Perhaps compete for the Young Miss title?

Angela’s been wondering What would Katniss do? Of course, Angela would do just about anything to get her classmate Anthony’s attention. Even though she’d rather eat Twinkies and play the piano, maybe if she works out, sheds a few pounds, and enters the local Young Miss Pageant, Anthony will drop his hippie girlfriend and finally ask her out.

Follow our young hero and heroine in this modern fairy tale as they journey from their comfort zones to the land of the Young Miss pageant.

— Rebecca Radley

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Table of Contents

About America’s Junior Miss

Dedication

Preface

Once Upon A Time …

Chapter 1 - Wild Woman

Chapter 2 - Princeling

Chapter 3 - Thunder Dragon

Ring of Myth

Chapter 4 - Who’s Your Daddy?

Chapter 5 - Rite of Spring

Chapter 6 - Pillar of Fire

Many Paths to Follow

Chapter 7 - Wherefore Art Thou, Romeo

Chapter 8 - Title IX

Chapter 9 - Man Down

Chapter 10 - Lively, But Not Too Much

Chapter 11 - Brady Day

Chapter 12 - What Would Katniss Do?

Chapter 13 - Weapon of Mass Destruction

Chapter 14 - Jungian Mythobabble

Chapter 15 - Outstanding Youth

Chapter 16 - Horton Hears a Who

Chapter 17 - Human Sexuality

Chapter 18 - Birds of a Feather

Chapter 19 - Illusion of Liposuction

Chapter 20 - Unmothered Child

Adventure Beyond the Ordinary

Chapter 21 - The Adventure Begins

Chapter 22 - Singular Sensation

Chapter 23 - Wipe Out

Chapter 24 - Hit Them On the Head

Chapter 25 - Angry Birds

Chapter 26 - Transformation

Chapter 27 - Tango Argentine

Chapter 28 - What Happens in 318

Chapter 29 - Harbor Tour

Chapter 30 - Psychic Wilderland

Chapter 31 - The Show Must Go On

Chapter 32 - The I Love Lucy Law

Chapter 33 - Deus Ex Machina

Chapter 34 - Bellwether

Shift in the Universe

Chapter 35 - Presence and Composure

Chapter 36 - And the Winner Is …

Chapter 37 - Synchronicity

About the Author

About Tree People

About Vienna Bonbons

About Sombras del Pasado

For my sweetie

Preface

In 1958 America’s Junior Miss held its first national competition with the aim of providing scholarship opportunities to high school senior girls. America’s Junior Miss changed its name to Distinguished Young Women in 2010, and the scholarship program continues to this day inspiring young women to develop their full potential as individuals.

This modern fable deals with the complexities of life and a young man’s attempt to bring his feminist wolf-mother out of her cave of depression by narrowing the gap between the sexes at the New Hampshire State Young Miss Scholarship Program, an event invented by the author.

Once Upon A Time …

There are mythologies that are scattered, broken up, all around us. You can select any of these fragments that activate your imagination for your own use. Let it help shape your own relationship to the unconscious system out of which these symbols have come.

— Joseph Campbell

Chapter 1

Wild Woman

Berkeley, California

October 1991

Georgette barely recognized the grimy mess on the doorstep as the dashing French Canadian she had recently met. Hercule stood before her, his hair plastered to his scalp, his clothes covered in ash and soot.

A smoky haze followed the man into the sitting room.

The Oakland Firestorm that raged most of that October day had absorbed the attention of Georgette’s late night guest for the last fourteen hours. The psychology student, on the other hand, had barely given the conflagration any thought. Georgette’s time that weekend was consumed writing a research paper due in her Cognitive Therapy class the following morning.

I just got off a double shift at the station, Hercule began. They dragooned all of us to report on the fire.

But, you’re their makeup man, Georgette said, a curious puzzlement in her voice.

I had a semester of camera work at Vancouver, so, I was a cameraman today. We chased the fire all the way to Claremont Canyon. It nearly took the hotel.

Oh, my gosh!

Then, when I tried to go home … I couldn’t get through. My apartment’s gone. Burned to the ground.

Damn!

All I have left are a few clothes at the station, he said. Good thing my makeup kits and equipment are there. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost them.

I’m so sorry …

Look, I don’t have anywhere to stay tonight. Can I crash here?

After a shower and a sandwich, Hercule looked and felt like a new man. Georgette’s size 3 jeans didn’t fit but he managed to squeeze into a pair of her warm-up pants. His sooty black hair had turned back to its ginger color and the (now) extremely handsome, cosmopolitan-looking man smelled of peach and mango.

I’m going to have to call it a night, Georgette said. I’ve got an early class in the morning and a paper to turn in.

Classes are canceled, lady, her house guest replied. The fire may be under control, but that doesn’t mean it’s out. It jumped two highways, for gosh sakes!

Oh, of course.

So, will you stay up with me awhile?

All right—why not?

Georgette fetched her hairbrush from the bathroom, sat on the floor across from Hercule, and began to brush out her long, dark hair.

It’s beautiful! Hercule said. When did you last cut it?

His look had seemed slightly critical. Do you think I need a haircut? she asked.

No! Well, maybe just the split ends. Here, give me the brush. Hercule moved to the sofa behind Georgette. I might as well make myself useful.

As he brushed, he began to sing. Not a real song but an intonation coming from deep in his chest. Georgette couldn’t see Hercule moving his jaws and lips as layers of harmonic sound filled the air behind her. But she could feel his chest vibrate as the humming produced overtones from another world.

What is that? It’s amazing …

He waited to finish the song before answering. Throat singing.

"I’ve heard of it, but never actually heard it before."

This is six pitch harmonics I learned from the Tibetan monks.

You learned from the monks?

"No, I mean from recordings they made. They called themselves the Thunder Dragons."

It’s wonderful.

Hush, now, he said.

The knight errant returned to brushing his lady’s hair and the drone in his chest moved up to his throat. The chords vibrated in low undertones, then blended with a high whistling sound. Sometimes deep in tone, sometimes light, his song, for lack of a better description, sounded to Georgette like the song of a bird or a brook rippling over rocks.

With the two heavenly sensations of sound and touch at work, Georgette eventually began to relax from her weekend crouched over a computer. She breathed deeply, letting the vibrations from Hercule’s throat song rumble through her neck and thrill down her spine. She closed her eyes and daydreamed of wind swirling through a mountain pass.

Drop your head a little, Hercule said, then went back to his song. Georgette had to concentrate harder now to keep breathing. She moved a hand to her throat as the tingling sensation intensified in her scalp.

Hercule continued vocalizing with the overtones producing two, sometimes four notes at a time, the song building to a crescendo of harmonic sound. Without warning, the electricity collecting in Georgette’s scalp zapped from her ears to her toenails, then congregated, unsettlingly, in her pelvis.

Suddenly lightheaded, Georgette brought both hands to her face and covered her eyes as the sensations vibrated through her.

"Hercule! Stop it!"

Sorry … Did I hurt you?

Not much, she said, then turned toward him and pushed his arm away. Take me to bed, she demanded.

But …

Please—take me to bed!

She wailed like a child forced by her parents to ‘be polite’. Please, Hercule …

All in good time, Hercule replied as he placed Georgette gently back into her sitting position.

In a very deep drone, he sang, Should I stop singing?

It doesn’t matter, she moaned as he returned the brush to its task and once again took up his song.

At the conclusion of Hercule’s tour de force—which sounded like a flock of forest birds singing in a chorus of six different notes—the sensations rippled and surged through Georgette’s body like a tidal wave.

Holy Gaia! she cried out, then shuddered and rolled over in a heap on the floor. The student of psychology, mystery, and myth came in waves that took her to a place and time eons before the birth of the Old Woman.

It was only after Georgette returned from the dawn of civilization that Hercule asked, May I make love to you?

Uh-huh.

He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

Chapter 2

Princeling

Brisbane, New Hampshire

June 1999 (Eight Years Later)

Georgette was unpacking her reference collection of Carolina Ezell, Joseph Campbell, and Carl Jung in the upstairs study when she heard the child call out, Super Grover to the rescue!

An ominous thump shook the house, after which a small voice cried, I be all right, Mommy.

She was sitting in a puddle of blood, cradling the little boy in her lap and holding a towel packed with ice against his face, when the ambulance arrived.

After a brief wait in the ER, Emile received several stitches to his tongue. The swelling was going down, but the doctor recommended an overnight stay in the children’s ward. I be awry, ahmie, Emile repeated, before falling asleep in the high bed that dwarfed his little body.

Georgette had not had to deal with a traumatic injury to a child before and the anxiety of the morning left her praying (to Gaia) that the laceration in Emile’s tongue wouldn’t cause a permanent speech impediment.

As stressful as the accident and its aftermath had been, now it was time for the toughest assignment of the day. Georgette would have to admit to her ex her unsuitability as a parent. She sighed aloud, Now or never, reached into her bag, and dug the calling card out of her wallet.

Hercule was at work at the Los Angeles movie studio when the call came in. He picked up the phone near his station.

Hebert. Makeup and Prosthetics, he answered.

It’s Georgette. Emile had an accident. He tried to fly down the stairs.

Super Grover?

Looks that way. He bit his tongue. The doctor gave him stitches and something for the swelling. We’re at the hospital tonight.

Poor little kid.

"I’m sorry, Hercule. It’s my fault. I’m so bad at this … "

You’re going to be fine.

Could you take some time off and come here to help him get used to the new place? My job at the clinic starts next week …

"I’ve got a job, too, George. And you said you wanted custody."

But, maybe we should rethink …

We’ve talked about this before. I travel everywhere and I’m gone for months at a time. Hell, we leave for New Zealand in October.

Will you at least be able to come visit Emile before that? She didn’t beg often, but Hercule could hear the desperation in her voice. Please, Hercule.

I’ll probably have a little break before we leave. I’ll get my flight out of New York and run up to spend some time with him before we go.

Thank you. Thank you, so very much. She wasn’t used to saying thank you, either.

Gotta run … See you in a few weeks. Hercule signed off.

Chapter 3

Thunder Dragon

Brisbane, New Hampshire

September 1999

True to his word, a month before the film crew was due to ship out to New Zealand, Hercule detoured to New Hampshire for a visit.

When mother and toddler came to the door, the child’s face looked friendly but puzzled.

"C’est moi, Père," Hercule said, bending down to Emile’s height.

"Père?"

"Oui."

It had only been five months since the divorce and three months since Georgette and Emile moved to the northeast to start their new life. How could the three-year old have forgotten him so soon?

I’m sorry, Hercule. We talk about you all the time. Let’s take a picture before you leave, so this won’t happen again.

"Qu’est-ce que c’est?" asked the boy, pointing to a large box tied with red ribbon that Hercule held out to him.

At least he hasn’t forgotten his French! Hercule said. It’s a present for you, Emile!

Emile’s face lit up and he laughed like it was Christmas.

I have sorely missed that dimple! Hercule said hugging the boy. Let’s see what you got!

Inside the box were a red cape and centurion helmet that Hercule had liberated from the studio wardrobe department. Emile was in heaven. So was Georgette. At last, we can throw away that old tablecloth and cardboard helmet he’s had since Berkeley! They’re worse for wear since he fell down the stairs.

Emile had other things in mind. "Père go to the park?"

Georgette begged-off making the excursion. She’d acted overjoyed to see her ex, but he always did have trouble reading her. Why should it be different now? he wondered, as he and Emile walked to the neighborhood playground.

Hercule took delight watching Emile fly in circles around him dressed in his new cape and helmet. The pair had spent many afternoons like this in Richmond when Hercule played stay-at-home-dad so that Georgette could finish her internship.

Who could have imagined that the laughing, golden-haired boy with a dimple in his cheek would turn out to be the best thing to come out of Hercule’s relationship with Georgette? As Emile ran and played, Hercule’s mind drifted back to his first meeting with the boy’s brilliant, beautiful, enigmatic, and self-centered mother.

* * * 

In September 1991, just a few weeks after Hercule started his job at KTVU in Oakland, Carolina Ezell, the poet, psychologist, and author of stories of myth and legend, had come to the station for an interview.

It was several years before the reality television show Extreme Makeover would become the staple of the American television audience. If Hercule had realized on this eventful day that he was ahead of the pack, he might have picked up the creator credit for the popular series. Regardless of who invented it, Hercule’s makeover of Carolina Ezell transformed her from refugee peasant to bewitching earth mother in the span of an hour.

I like it! the celebrity said, when Hercule spun the chair to show her all the views of her alluring new hairdo. And I don’t know when I’ve felt so pampered.

Just part of my job, Hercule said beaming.

But what’ll I do tomorrow for my lecture at the Folklore Society? You wouldn’t come over to the campus and give me a touch up before I go on? she asked.

The bureau chief was happy to accommodate the famous author’s request, and the following evening found Hercule standing behind Carolina Ezell as she perched on a lab stool in the faculty bathroom of Kroeber Hall. After working his usual magic on her makeup and hair, Hercule found a place to stand at the back of the teaching theatre.

Ezell’s lecture on The Craft of Stories was interesting, if not quite Hercule’s cup of tea.

To sum it up, an old woman, the archetypal Wild Woman who ran with the wolves—rather than the wild woman who got drunk and screwed all night, Hercule supposed—stood between the worlds of myth and reality.

If they would listen, the Wild Woman would help her descendants understand their purpose and realize their happiness through the use of story. The message seemed to appeal particularly to the women in the audience. Hercule appreciated that Ezell’s language was nothing short of poetic, but he soon dozed off, leaning against the back wall of the large room.

Hercule woke with a start to hear Ezell’s closing. "I always come back to Joseph Campbell, who said it best: ‘You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there is a way or a path, it is someone else’s path.’ We have only to follow. Thank you."

When the lights came up, all thoughts of the crone who bestowed knowledge on her wounded children leaped from Hercule’s head. Standing near the aisle just below the stage was the woman of his dreams.

The woman was Georgette, and Hercule’s brief glance took in a million observations. First and foremost, this captivating specimen of a university student was not wearing a lick of makeup. Yet her face was dewy fresh and her lashes long and dark. Her thick, brown hair hung well below her waist and was held back at the temples with a pair of antique combs that elegantly framed her lovely face. And she appeared to be waiting in line for Ezell to autograph a book.

Hoping to orchestrate an introduction, Hercule fought against the sea of people exiting the theatre and made his way for the stage.

When Georgette stepped forward for her turn, Hercule broke through the line, maneuvered in behind Ezell, and spoke to the author. Great lecture, Carolina. I really enjoyed it! Thanks for inviting me.

"And thank you so much, Hercule. I don’t know when I’ve felt so pampered."

It was a pleasure, he said, moving out of the way so Georgette could obtain her autograph.

Hercule was right beside Georgette when she started up the aisle for the exit.

Hello, he said to the fascinating woman. Nice night.

Are you a friend of Carolina Ezell’s?

I wish. Actually, we just met yesterday. I did her hair and makeup for an interview on KTVU and she invited me to the lecture tonight.

She looks amazing!

She does have a soul that shines. But the hair and makeup, that was just paint and wallpaper.

That’s quite a line, she said.

Maybe, he said.

They went out for coffee.

* * * 

Hercule jerked back to the present when a little voice said, "Père, me hungry." As evening descended upon the neighborhood, Hercule walked his son back to the house.

"We go to the park tomorrow, Père?" Emile asked.

"I’m sorry, Emile. I have to leave tomorrow to see Grand’mère et Grand-père."

Take me with?

What a wonderful idea! Let’s ask Mommy.

With Emile’s unrelenting powers of persuasion to assist him, the boy obtained his mother’s permission for the trip. The following day father and son set off on a week-long vacation to see the cousins and grandparents before Hercule was to leave on what would be a 12-month assignment two continents away.

True to her deeper nature, Georgette thoroughly enjoyed her breather from being a mom. When the duo returned from their Canadian trip seven days later, however, she was totally unprepared for the joy she felt at seeing her son again. The child didn’t share quite the same excitement as his mother. Emile was dead to the world when Hercule carried the sleeping