E-Mail This Article to a Friend Here she is, Miss ... Erika? How did my geeky childhood partner in crime wind up in the Miss America pageant? BY LAUREN KEANE

ABC recently dropped the Miss America pageant after learning that only one in 10 TV sets was tuned to the competition on the big night. The "scholarship competition" never interested me much: too much scripted glitz, not enough brains. Plus, the pageant was the last place I expected to find something to connect with, such as a long-lost friend who made it big.

But that’s what happened this year. The last time I saw Miss Massachusetts 2004, we were fifth-grade best friends/archrivals, two nerds joined at the hip as we obsessed about one-upping each other. Other girls fought over their slap-on-bracelet collections. We concerned ourselves with more weighty issues, like who could rattle off more digits of pi. We weren’t exactly up on the latest fashions, either — I in my spandex biker shorts, she with her hair slicked back into a bun so tight her eyes narrowed.

Thirteen years later, my awkward, clueless rival has played me the trump card: she’s up and made herself a beauty queen, artfully straddling the chasm between pageant contestant and science nerd. "Look, I’m all for world peace," she told the alumni magazine at MIT, her alma mater. "I’m also for stem-cell research, and I can explain, with significant detail, the scientific reasons behind my opinion." I gawk at the expertly posed, full-length photos on her Web site, at her cardinal-red swimsuit separates, her familiar face framed by perfectly coifed blond-as-can-be curls where straight, plain brown locks used to hang.

To be fair, she’s not the only ugly duckling to have left her awkwardness behind. I once "won" a spot in my college tabloid’s "50 Most Beautiful People" issue. (Never mind that I laughed so hard during my photo shoot that my tonsils nearly became my most famous feature.) Still, I don’t have to run my hand through my own straight, plain brown hair to feel as though she’s slunk into my room in the wee hours of the morning, clad in her evening wear, and made off with my tiara.

Yep, Erika’s managed to slingshot herself right past me in the realm of overachieving beauty queens. I’m eager to size her up anew, but not ready to face her possible triumph alone. So I cancel Saturday-night plans, and my roommates and I have ourselves a Miss America Pageant Party.

Only a résumé as gilded as Erika’s could make our roomful of Ivy alumnae feel unaccomplished. She’s an Intel Science Talent Search finalist who’s been developing an herbal treatment for herpes since she was 10. She’s the founder of a nonprofit foundation to help kids develop science-fair projects. On the talent score, she’s a child piano prodigy who graduated from music conservatory in high school. A Web-site photo captures her winning performance in the preliminary talent competition a few nights before, seated at the keys in a strapless, backless gown, her face already turned to flash the audience a grateful smile. The 10-year-old in me rears her ugly head, wondering how long she’s spent refining her piano smile in front of a mirror.

Expectations run high as Erika appears on cue in the alpha-order introduction of each state’s contestant, power-walking along the boardwalk. With a no-nonsense tilt of her head, more six-o’clock-news anchor than American Girl role model, she recites, "GoodeveningI’mErikaEbbelMissMassachusetts." The other girls take their time, savoring what may be their only moment of fame. Not Erika — she’s tackling this head-on as if it’s an organic-chemistry exam.

In the next moment, though, she gazes intently at her interviewer, her head tilt soft, and feeds him the expected breathy sound bite: "I just can’t believe one of us is going to be Miss America tonight!" It’s the verbal equivalent of executing the Miss America wave just so: not a hint of I-went-to-MIT. We all agree, as we suck in our tummies: this girl’s headed for the finals.

But we’re wrong. We catch a glimpse of her in the top row of contestants after the MC has called nine names that aren’t hers, and even her well-trained competition face shows signs of strain. Eventually, Miss Alabama glides down the runway, the Miss America crown balanced precariously on her brunette head.

Regardless of what the pageant claims to value — scholarship, talent, community achievement, fitness — it’s now especially unclear to me what role smarts and strength actually play in choosing America’s ideal woman. Even if Erika had been one of the 10 finalists, there’s no specific category for varied academic success like hers. The only place something like that might emerge — a personal interview in the preliminary round — is 30 percent of the preliminary score, which in turn makes up only 30 percent of a finalist’s score. Only nine percent of a finalist’s end score can come from academics, then — not impressive for a scholarship competition. As for confidence, I wouldn’t be surprised if that hurt her in the end. Who wants an intimidating Miss America?

Of course, the new Miss America is no slouch. Besides enjoying history, she wants to be a pediatrician and seems bright enough to get there. But the Miss America pageant must believe America needs an ideal within reach. When we picture Miss America, do we think of a busy MIT alumna finding a cure for the herpes virus, wielding a pipette in each hand? Or do we think of a wholesome, Southern belle, cradling a newborn in the crook of each arm? Do we want the explanation — with supporting evidence — about why we need stem-cell research? Or do we want to hear that, you know, Bob, we really do need world peace?

In 10 years, it’ll be great to see Erika answer these questions with a cure for herpes under her belt and a gaggle of brilliant-but-awkward young girls in her fan club.

Lauren Keane can be reached at keanelauren@yahoo.com