Mr. Winston cleared his throught. It was obvious that something was quite out-of-the-ordinary, for it took a lot to upset Mr. Winston. "And the winner is..." he repeated.

The crowd waited in agitated anticipation. What could be wrong? They all knew it would be Amber.

"Francesca George," Mr. Winston finally coughed out.

The crowd gasped in astonishment. Their heads turned sharply towards Francesca. Then they turned around to look at Amber. This was unreal; unheard of. Amber had always been the winner of the Miss Midway Contest.

Francesca's eyes and mouth snapped wide open. Her hand flew up to her face in genuine shock. Allan was anything but shocked.

"I told you so! I told you, Francesca!" he cried out in joy.

Mr. Winston looked at Francesca with kind but nonetheless astonished eyes. "Come on up, Francesca. The crowd's waiting for your speech."

All this time, Amber had been frozen. This couldn't be possible to her. She, Amber Hart, never lost. This was too unheard of to be even considered as real.

"Amber? Hello? Earth to Amber!" Kim said, waving her hand in front of Amber's stone face.

Amber's eyes turned into cold steel. Her with tight jaw and clenched teeth, Amber came back to life, but oh what a cold, deadly life it was. She would not let this happen.

Francesca by some miracle of God made her way up the stairs to the platform stage and to the podium. Her mouth opened, but words would not come. Francesca was still in shock.

While Francesca searched for words, Amber made her way up the stairs: quietly, calmly, but very deadly. Francesca turned towards Amber with fearful and apologetic eyes, but Amber didn't care about that. As soon as she reached the podium, Amber quickly snatched Francesca's arm up and took her behind the stage backdrop.

"Let go of me!" Francesca cried out, but there was more fear in her voice than command. "You're hurting me!"

"I'll do much more than that if you don't go out there and say you can't accept the crown, Francesca," Amber snapped, her eyes blazing fire and her face emitting rage.

"I...I can't...I mean I won't!" Francesca stammered, searching for some escape from this dangerous situation.

Amber dug her nails deeper into Francesca's arm causing Francesca to cry out in pain. "You listen to me, Francesca. You will step down from your position or you will regret it until the day you die, do you hear me!"

Allan was worried. Amber had looked like a tiger about to attack its prey when she went up those steps. He decided to go find Francesca, but a firm hand landed on his shoulder before he could move.

"Don't do it, Allan. Let Francesca handle this," Trace said from behind him.

Allan shook Trace's hand off of his shoulder. He wheeled around and looked Trace straight in the eye. "I am going to find Francesca and no one is going to stop me," Allan said quietly, though something in his voice and the steady, determined eyes that looked down into Trace's eyes made Trace back away.

"I just hope you know what you're doing man. Amber can easily turn from Miss Powderpuff into Miss Woman-From-Hell."

"So what? I can handle Amber, and you know what, I think Francesca can too. Francesca's always handled herself with jealous girls perfectly, so there's no reason to believe she won't now." Allan said to Trace, though he was really trying to convince himself.

"That's the way to think! She can handle her self just fine," Trace said. "See ya around!" Trace walked off.

Nevertheless, Allan went to find Francesca.

"Amber, let me go!" Francesca whined, struggling in Amber's tight, strong grip. Amber was moving away from the back of the stage into a mossy hollow on the edge of the beach.

"Shut up and listen, because I'm only going to say this one more time," Amber said, getting closer to Francesca's face and lowering her voice. "You will go and say that you can't accept your election or you will pay dearly, do you understand? Because if you don't, I will make your life Hell in order to make you regret ruining my life, and trust me, when I say Hell, Francesca, I mean fire and brimstone and much, much more."

Allan struggled desperately to find Francesca. He went around the back of the stage, but no one was there. He ran westwardly in the opposite direction of where Amber held Francesca. He ran past the crashing, angry waves, past the buildings that lined the wharf, past the trees, past the carnival rides, searching for his dear, beloved Francesca. He was truly worried.

"Suppose Amber really hurts, Francesca. I would never forgive her if she did. I can't believe I just let Amber take Francesca like that. I've just gotta find her!" Allan's mind raced while he raced against the wind and time.

"But then again, why should I worry? Like I said, Francesca is a strong young woman. She can handle herself, right? I don't even think Amber is a match for Francesca."

Oh how wrong Allan was, and even he knew it. Nothing can stop a jealousy-fueled young woman when she goes on the rampage, especially when her name is Amber Hart. No one had faced the true wrath of Amber, but like they say, there always has to be a first, and that first was Francesca George...

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