Sour Grapes

pink-and-red rosebuds. Atop a marble-topped dressing table was a lush spray of spring flowers.
    The only item that seemed out of place in this dainty room was a young lady who was stretched out on one of the beds, drinking diet cola from a can. Though the term “lady” might be used loosely, considering the skimpy leopard-print teddy she was not-quite-wearing and the fact that she had one leg raised and propped on a bookshelf on the wall.
    The teenager had impossibly red hair—a color that could have been achieved only with a bottle of hair coloring that contained the word “fiery” on its label. Her makeup was the heaviest Savannah had seen on a young woman north of the Mason-Dixon line. Beneath all the carefully applied goop, her face might have been considered pretty, had it not been pulled into a nasty frown.
    “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, lowering her leg from the shelf and tucking it under her. “Nobody invited you in here.”
    Atlanta stormed into the room, tossed one of her suitcases onto the floor, and said, “I registered. They told me room ‘1D.’ That’s all the invitation I need, thank you very much.”
    “Oh goody, a S0-0-0-outherner. What are you, a Georgia peach? Or are you just a Georgia pee-can?”
    Savannah winced, expecting the fur to start flying any minute.
    Atlanta bristled. “As a matter of fact I am from the proud state of Georgia... originally, that is. Have you got a problem with that?”
    “No problem at all,” she drawled in an exaggerated and—as far as Savannah was concerned—downright vulgar impression of a Southern accent “Yeah, boy, howdy... I whup Dixie belles in pageants every day o’ the week and twice on a Sunday.”
    Now she was asking for it.
    Savannah decided that if Atlanta didn’t thrash her, she would. She could always claim the girl had presented some sort of grave security risk, and anyone who knew the kid would probably be grateful that she had beaten her.
    But, ever the consummate professional, Savannah repressed her homicidal tendencies and stepped between them. “Okay, okay, girls, this is no way to start off the weekend. You’ll be pulling each other’s hair out by the roots, and heaven knows, you need every lock you’ve got to achieve that pageant ‘big hair’ look.”
    She walked across the room to the vacant twin bed and started to lay the luggage on it. But Atlanta grabbed her arm. “Wait a second,” she said. “Mrs. Lippincott told me that I was supposed to have the bed against the Wall. I’m sure that’s what she said.”
    Savannah could practically hear the bell sounding “Round Two.”
    “Well, it doesn’t really matter all that much which—”
    “It matters to me!” Barbie snapped. “I got here first, so I get to pick which bed I want. And I want the one by the wall. So there.” She painted a saccharine smile across her suspiciously full lips, which looked like they had been plumped with collagen or repeatedly stung by honeybees. “You don’t mind do you, Little Miss Pee-can?”
    Atlanta turned from her obnoxious roommate and faced her sister. ‘You do understand, don’t you,” she said with a deadly calm that scared Savannah, “that the next time she calls me that, I’m gonna beat the tar outta her. And if I do, it’s for sure that neither one of us is gonna win ‘Miss Congeniality’ in this pageant.”
    “I understand completely,” Savannah assured her. “In fact, you have my blessing. But, if you would, please wait until I’m out of the room before you stomp a mud-hole in her. As much as I’d like to watch, as Security, I’m supposed to stop that sort of violence if I see it happening.”
    “Security?” Barbie was instantly alert. ‘You’re Security? I thought you were the Georgia peach’s mommy.”
    “Oh, now you are askin’ for a beatin’,” Savannah said. “But I’m not going to give it to you. You see, I’ve sworn a sacred oath to make sure that you young things stay safe and sound this weekend. And that means: no boys in your rooms, no smoking, no drinking booze... basically, no fun of any kind at all .”
    She walked over to the bed where Barbie lay, looking more glum by the moment. “And in your case, Ms. Matthews, rest assured I’m going to take my duties very, very seriously.”
    “Gee, thanks,” she said dryly as she tossed her empty cola can onto the floor. “I was worried, but you’ve set my mind at ease.”
    Savannah leaned over, picked up the