Page 15 of The Devil Wears Tartan

The third section is what throws me off the most. It’s called ‘Personal Character,’ and all three items are compulsory. We need to submit an essay about what highland dance means to us, an overview of how the money will benefit our studies, and something called a ‘peer interview.’

“Wow,” Moira says under her breath beside me, “this is a lot.”

“Yeah,” I whisper back before I can stop myself. “I’m looking for the part where it says we have to offer them our firstborn child.”

Everyone else is too busy chatting to hear me, but Moira lets out a soft laugh.

I glance over from my paper and find her watching me.

I blink.

She blinks.

We both look at our papers again.

Do not let her get to you.

I am not falling under the Moira Murray spell like everyone else. I don’t need her to smile her dimpled grin at me or laugh at my jokes. I don’t want her to smile at me.

I either want her out of this competition, or I want the satisfaction of beating her every step of the way. Cutesy bonding moments are not going to help me get there.

“I’ll go into a little more detail, but are there any questions before I continue?” Candice asks, glancing around the table.

I clear my throat. “What does the peer interview consist of?”

“Glad you asked, Kenzie. I was just about to get into that. That part will be so fun. It’s sort of a group project.”

Anyone who associates group projects with fun has a very different definition of fun than I do. Something about the way Candice’s eyes light up as she taps her finger on her folder tells me I’m really not going to like what she says next.

“You’re going to partner up and interview each other! We thought it would be much more fun to have you do it that way than on your own. You will film your interviews, and we’ll play the videos at the next competition to let everyone get to know the applicants a little better. The scholarship judges will use them to get to know you too.”

“Do we pick our partners?” Moira’s voice sounds almost as tense as I feel. Her usual chipper tone is straining to stay even, but if Candice notices, she doesn’t react.

“Well, since you and Kenzie are such old pros, I thought it would be lovely to have you chat with each other, and we can let these younger girls partner up too. So far, it’s just the four of you who seem seriously interested.”

At least I know Moira’s not any happier about this than me; I see her hand curl into a fist on top of the table, and I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves.

Like we’re psychically connected through mutual enmity, I can tell she’s thinking the exact same thing I am: if this interview is supposed to be a display of ‘personal character,’ we’ll end up with points in the negative once the judges see exactly what our characters turn into around each other.

“Sounds good to me,” one of the moms chirps before Moira or I can say anything else.

Not that there’s anything else to say. I at least have the self-control to know blurting out ‘I don’t like Moira’ is not the socially acceptable thing to do here.

My stomach starts tying itself in knots, and I grind my jaw while Candice claps her hands like we’ve all delighted her.

“Perfect! I’m so excited to see the results. You girls are all such role models to our younger dancers, and this is going to be a great way to show them what highland can do for their lives if they stick with it. There are no required questions or formats, so feel free to be creative!”

She says the last word with all the gusto of a grade school art teacher unleashing a horde of six-year-olds on some crayons and construction paper, but I feel more like I’ve been tossed a calligraphy pen and told to draw an intricate mandala with my hands tied behind my back.

I focus on talking some sense into myself as Candice goes over the other items on the list. I know I’m being dramatic. Moira is probably only here because I urged her into it, and I need to accept the consequences. As childish as she makes me feel, we’re both adults. We both have responsibilities in this community. We have reputations to uphold and schools we represent.

I don’t know if she needs the money like I do. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t, but we both have clear reasons to take this scholarship seriously if we go for it. We both have reasons to stay in control of whatever happens when we’re around each other.

That’s what I keep telling myself as Candice draws the meeting to a close twenty minutes later and rubs her hands together like we’re about to head out on a wild and uncharted journey together.

Which, in a way, we are.

“So, ladies,” she says, taking a moment to look each of the prospective applicants in the eyes, “what do you say? Are you in?”

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