"Honey, where's your mom?" A woman with a fresh manicure asks, putting her hand on my shoulder.
I look back at her. "She's in the audience."
"Why don't I go get her so she can do your hair and makeup?"
I smile. "Oh, no thank you. I've done this before."
She gives me a worried look before turning and going.
I've done my hair and makeup since I was seven.
I put on my green dress and look at myself in the mirror. I adjust my boobs and suck in my stomach, putting on a smile. Perfect.
"Number twenty. Charli Thompson is sixteen years old. Her favorite things to do are swimming, painting nails, and spending time with family and friends." I walk around the stage slowly, smiling big.
"Go mama," Mom cheers in the audience.
She only cheers when I'm doing perfectly. I keep myself focused, looking at all four of the judges as I walk. "Thank you, Charli. That was beautiful."
Mom comes back to the dressing room to help me change. "That was amazing, sweetie." She claps as she moves toward me.
I grin. "Thank you."
"You still need to practice that footwork, though."
"Okay." I nod.
She kisses my forehead. "All the judges wrote something down."
My talent is singing. I sing Halo by Beyoncé and everyone loves it.
"Those singing lessons have paid off!" Mom hugs me when I get off the stage.
I win Most Beautiful Face, Best Personality, and Ultimate Grand Supreme. I get a trophy, a tiara, two medals, and five thousand dollars.
"Mom?" I ask in the car. She's in a great mood.
"Yeah, baby?"
"I don't know if I want to keep doing pageants."
"Nonsense. You love pageants and you're going to keep doing them. What should we get for lunch?"
"Can we get McDonald's?"
"No. You already have to suck in that huge stomach of yours you don't need it to be even bigger." She laughs.
—
"Oh my god, Charli." Someone shouts behind me as I walk to my first class.
I turn just in time. Sofia's launching herself at me.
"Oh, shit." I accept her hug. "Hey."
"I thought you were fucking dead." She squeezes me.
"Why would you think that?"
"You drove yourself home drunk and then you weren't at school yesterday and you weren't answering my texts or calls."
"I had a pageant."
"Ooh, did you win?" She walks with me.
"Yeah."
"Also, at the party. Whoa. You're a fucking freak."
"I was drunk." I stare at her.
She smiles. "I like it when you're drunk. You're fun."
"I'm always fucking fun."
She hums. "Right."
"Bitch." I laugh, following her into the art room.
