THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, October 25, 1996 TAG: 9610240126
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY DENISE WATSON, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 180 lines
BY 8:50 P.M. last Friday, it was over. Kristin Duke was Deep Creek High School's homecoming queen.
Up until that moment, it didn't matter that Deep Creek was crucifying Suffolk's Lakeland High football team. Or that the Atlanta Braves had won the National League Championship or that the last presidential debate had concluded the night before.
The last nine days for Duke and the other seniors vying for the crown - Quana Bluford, Stacie Watson and Nichole Anderson - had come to this moment, when Kristin's name rolled through the stadium and she grabbed her father, her escort, and almost cried.
Being homecoming queen means being someone special. It's being glamorous, it's being popular, it's being deemed worthy with nothing less than a crown. It's a tradition throughout Hampton Roads and around the country.
There will be close to 20,000 Kristins around the United States this season according to the America's Homecoming Queen Pageant, a Memphis-based scholarship pageant for homecoming queens. Of that 20,000, so many more tried for the crown.
``It's a dream,'' said Rose Ann Hester, one of the founders of the pageant. ``But it isn't unattainable as Miss America - you don't have to have the talent or practice all the time. . . And with homecoming, you're singled out by your peers. You're special.''
Some girls earn the crown, Hester said, by selling the most candy or being picked by teachers, but at most schools, like Chesapeake's Deep Creek, the crown is passed through the popular vote.
The quest for the crown was so contentious that when Deep Creek changed its policy to allow seniors to nominate a senior girl instead of a senior homeroom collectively nominating one girl, about 45 girls filled the ballot.
``So many girls said they wouldn't get on the ballot but wanted the chance. I was bombarded that day,'' said Sue Dixon, the Student Council Association sponsor who collected names two weeks ago.
Freshman, sophomores and juniors filled their ballots and two days later voted on two freshman, two sophomore and three junior attendants to sit on the homecoming court. Seniors voted to whittle their list down to four finalists; the vote for the queen would take place Homecoming Day.
Kristin, Quana, Stacie and Nichole, some of whom are best friends, became the final four, and the moment was in the making.
By Wednesday, Oct. 16, 3:35 p.m., Stacie, 17, says it aloud: ``I'm getting nervous.''
Members of the homecoming court meet in Linda Warren's portable classroom after school to finalize details before Friday. Warren, an English teacher in charge of the court, needs to make sure the girls' homecoming gowns are finished, convertibles are borrowed or rented, and fathers or ``father-figures'' are signed on as escorts.
The seven underclass attendants debate whether to wear gloves while Stacie nervously pulls at her long curls. The rest of the week is easy for the younger girls. All they have to do is don their peach, ``cruise blue'' and mauve gowns and form a neat semi-circle on the football field Friday night. The seniors must anxiously await the vote Friday morning.
And Stacie, a four-year letter-winner in volleyball, basketball and soccer, is tugging at her curls.
Being crowned homecoming queen is something Stacie has had tucked in the back of her mind.
``As a little girl, I saw people crown (the queen),'' Stacie recalls. ``And I thought, `That could be me.' ''
Last year, Stacie was voted a junior attendant, a vote of popularity, which moved her closer to the crown. This year, someone nominated her for queen before she could put her name on the list.
The week has been exciting, yet tense; the girls try to downplay winning, saying it isn't a big deal.
``If people vote for me,'' Stacie says. ``I want people to vote for me because they like me. I don't want to go around grabbing people and asking them to vote for me.''
And, so, two days before showtime, Stacie pulls at a curl, and asks one competitor, Kristin: ``Are you wearing a necklace with your dress?''
It's 8:45 Thursday night, and Kristin, 17, steps out of Miss Ann's bathroom in her lavendar gown.
Miss Ann, the dressmaker, made the blue dress Kristin wore last year as a junior attendant.
The seamstress looks proud as Kristin models: ``It's beautiful,'' she says.
The pattern for the homecoming court's dresses lay on the table and Quana's name is written on top. Quana picked up her dress earlier from Miss Ann.
Quana, another queen hopeful. Quana, the friend Kristin went shoe shopping with just days before. Quana, the friend and competitor with whom it is difficult to discuss ``the moment.''
``Well, we kind of avoid it,'' Kristin says. ``We've been real spirited all week, but,'' she hesitates as she looks down at the dress as Miss Ann tucks here and there, ``we don't talk about that.
``I'm not expecting to win the crown, I just wanted to be on the court.''
But later Kristin smiles at the idea of the crown, the satin sash, the roses.
``It just makes you feel special,'' she says, almost whispering. ``You're out there waving and people are calling your name.''
10:41 Thursday night, and Quana is finally home, having just finished her errands. Her nails are done, shoes, stockings, jewelry and dad's tuxedo picked up.
She and her good friend Kristin have a hair appointment together on Friday and then Quana will be ready.
In a way, she was already ready. Quana, 18, has a legacy in Deep Creek royalty. She's been on the court since her sophomore year and many thought she should have won the Miss Deep Creek Pageant earlier in the year.
She wanted to try for the queen simply, ``because I am a senior, my last year,'' and someone, of course, nominated her. The idea that she's competing with two good friends, Kristin and Nichole, isn't a problem, Quana said.
``If I don't get it, and one of them does, it will be OK because they're my close friends,'' Quana says.
It's been a tougher week for the circle of friends surrounding the finalists.
``We all hang around the same people,'' Quana says. ``A lot of them say ``I can't vote because I can't choose.''
But Quana, the girl who doesn't care if she wins, offers advice: ``I tell them to vote for one of us, help one of us out.''
6:15 p.m. Friday, and Nichole is dressed. She's waiting for her parents to get dressed; she's due at the school in 15 minutes.
She's anxiously tapping her lavendar-dyed, satin shoes, the ones she bought to match those of Kristin and Quana. Nichole is ready to go.
A few months ago, Nichole couldn't think about walking across the football field, toward glitter and crowns. It was a miracle if she could walk around her living room.
Last February, Nichole woke up and felt a lump in her throat. She went to the doctor and, within a week, had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Cancer.
The first person she called was her best friend, Kristin Duke.
``She thought I was playing when I told her,'' Nichole said. ``And then when she realized I wasn't, she cried and hung up the phone.''
During the next two months, Kristin was with Nichole as she had chemotherapy and painful spinal taps. Kristin was her link to school when Nichole was homebound for three months.
But, now, Nichole is in remission, she's picked up her studies and is an SCA member.
``She's a fighter,'' said Nichole's mom, Beverly Hayes. ``She's just been overwhelming.''
And when Nichole heard about homecoming queen nominations, she couldn't help but sign her name.
``I was the first one up there.''
She knew Quana and Kristin would be nominated, but she wanted her chance, too.
``I wanted to make this year special,'' Nichole says. ``I wanted to feel like I had overcome (the cancer) and could still go on.''
By 6:35, Nichole and her dad are running out of the house on the way to meet up with her friends. She's shared the toughest of moments with them, but this would be different.
By 8:51 Friday night, Kristin, the homecoming queen dips slightly to be crowned. Her closest friends since the eighth grade, Quana and Nichole, stand a few feet away and smile their congratulations. No hugs, no kisses.
The queen has pictures taken and climbs into a white Mustang convertible for a victory spin around the stadium.
The rest of the court makes its way back to their reserved bleachers in the stands. After the lap, Kristin tries to get to her seat but others want to see her, to touch the queen.
It is, as she'd said, people calling her name. And as she waves, and feels special, Stacie, Quana and Nichole walk by silently, heading to the bathrooms, to take off their gowns. ILLUSTRATION: STEVE EARLEY COLOR PHOTOS/The Virginian-Pilot
Nichole
``I wanted to make this year special,'' says Nichole Anderson, who
was diagnosed with cancer in February. ``I wanted for feel like I
had overcome (the cancer) and could still go on.''
Stacie
``As a little girl, I saw people crown (the queen),'' recalls Stacie
Watson, a `7-year-old athlete. ``And I thought, `That could be
me.'''
Quana
``If I don't get it, and one of them does, it will be OK because
they're my close friends,'' Quana Bluford, 18, says.
Kristin
``It just makes you feel special,'' Kristin Duke, 17, says almost
whispering. ``You're out there waving and people are calling your
name.'' by CNB