Free The Tiara on the Terrace by Kristen Kittscher

finest waitstaff this side of the Mississippi?” he asked, smiling as widely as he did on his car commercials. Principal Katz was hovering behind him with a strange look on his face. Lee turned tohim irritatedly before we could even answer. “Listen, Josh, I told you,” he uttered in a low, firm voice. “It’s not up to me! It was a committee decision, it was the right one, and we’re not revisiting it.” He made a show of wiping his hands. “This discussion is over.”
    Grace widened her eyes at me. Meanwhile Katz pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white, then he shuffled to the back of the kitchen to say hi to one of the cooks. Harrison Lee plastered on his smile and turned back to us. “Don’t those look good!” he looked longingly at some bacon-wrapped figs on a silver tray. “Now, what do you say you serve some of those up, kiddos?”
    As soon as we grabbed our trays and stepped through the archway to the ballroom, Grace drew in a sharp breath. “Wow,” she said. “Gorgeous.”
    Candlelight flickered over the faces of guests as they milled around, bobbing their heads along with a jazzy tune floating up from the baby grand in the corner. Big bouquets of pink roses decorated each table, and old-time photos of past Winter Sun Festivals lined the wood-paneled walls. Giant arched French doors reflected it all back, making the room seem twice as big.
    My parents stood across the room with the Yangs and some other neighbors from Via Fortuna. Grace’s dadmust have been telling a hilarious story, because everyone erupted into guffaws and clinked their champagne glasses with his. Grace’s mom dabbed away tears of laughter with her cocktail napkin. She seemed especially happy to be in a sleek tailored evening suit instead of her usual white doctor coat.
    â€œIt really does look beautiful,” I said.
    â€œNo. I meant your brother.” Grace grinned. “He looks gorgeous.”
    â€œEw!” I swatted her with my napkin. “You did not just say that.”
    Jake had sat down at a table with a bunch of his high school friends. The bow tie of his rented tuxedo was crooked, and his light-brown hair was slathered with so much gel I swear he must have paid a visit to Harrison Lee’s hairdresser. If that was Grace’s idea of cute, she needed a full mental-health assessment. Not to mention an eye exam.
    Jake caught my eye and waved his index finger in the air. “Garçon! Garçon! Help!” he called out, elbowing one of his friends. “I think there’s a fly in my soup!” He laughed and winked.
    â€œHe’s all yours,” I said to Grace.
    â€œI do like a man with a sense of humor.” She smiled, then turned and surveyed the room. “Okay, Agent Young,you take the right flank. Tables two through ten. I’ll cover the left and the Royal Court banquet table.”
    â€œTen-four, Agent Yang.” I looked up at her glumly. “I wish we still had the walkie-talkies.”
    â€œAw, we’re beyond all that now, remember?” Grace’s eyes danced. “But that code you were talking about? The Poly-bee-something? That , we need to check out, my friend.”
    I laughed. “We really do,” I said, as a bubble of happiness rose in my chest. If I weren’t carrying a tray, I would’ve high-fived her. But the bubble deflated when Grace’s face fell suddenly. She grabbed my elbow and nodded toward the Royal Court banquet table. “Who’s missing from this picture?” she hissed.
    I turned to follow her gaze. Dressed in evening gowns and sporting their glittering tiaras, Sienna and Jardine were beaming with excitement as they circulated among their parents and some Festival officials. Or tried to, at least. They wobbled around in their slinky dresses like mermaids recently washed ashore. Next to them, in a matching Court tiara that looked dull in comparison