Perzys Āeterña | Hope Mikaelson

Chapter 8

Lizzie was upset.

The story was that Caroline, the twins' mother, had won the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant when she was younger. Both Lizzie and Josie were running, but much to Penelope's dismay, Josie's goal was to make Lizzie the winner.

And now, apparently, she was dropping out of the contest.

"You called an emergency meeting," said Hope, bewildered. "I thought you had something important to tell us."

Penelope, who must have glued herself to Josie to get an 'in' on the meeting, smirked and burst out, "Come for the underwhelming announcement, stay for the epic meltdown."

"Okay, wait," said Josie. "Why are you quitting?"

"A personal issue with one of the judges. A direct result of that bitch Dana's sabotage."

"The girl that died?" cried Rhysaenya.

"Correction: that dead bitch Dana's sabotage. Costing me the crown from beyond the grave. The head judge is her mother. The town pharmacist. There is always next year for me. But that does not mean that we here at the Salvatore School shouldn't bring home the title and stick it to those townies."

Rhysaenya made a face. "Why does it matter so much? It doesn't mean anything! Besides, Josie is in the running, if we're going to make this a competition, surely she has an edge on the human girls."

"If you'd given me just a second, Rhys," said Lizzie with a smile, "you'd know I have studied all of the stats and advanced metrics, and I have chosen a replacement for myself."

Rhysaenya clapped in Josie's direction just as Lizzie burst out, "Hope Mikaelson."

"What?" said Penelope immediately. "Oh, you b–" Josie pushed her hand out to silence her.

"Why me?" demanded Hope. "That makes no sense."

"You are the perfect candidate!" said Lizzie. "You are pageant-pretty, reasonably well-spoken, and not to mention you have the added bonus of being an orphan. Classic charity case. Plus, you wanted strenuous. This is the fiercest competition in the land."

"That's the most absurd thing I'd ever heard," said Hope. "Look, my Aunt Rebekah would totally want me to accept, but I don't want to do this."

"And I find it insulting that you consider this a fierce competition," said Rhysaenya under her breath. "Back in my day, people died on the daily because someone stole a loaf of bread."

Lizzie gestured to her, "And that is why I didn't choose you as my replacement. I thought of it. Also pageant-pretty, an orphan, and you've got the longest legs I've ever seen. You're made to model. But you're a pessimist." She held out an album, still wanting to convince Hope. "This is my mother's research. She used it to prepare for Miss Mystic Falls the year that she won. It's effective, but her methods? Quaint at best."

She turned to retrieve a box filled with binders labeled with glitter and stickers. "This is my research. I have studied every answer given, why every winner has won, and why every loser has lost. No one from the Salvatore School has ever come close. Until today."

"This is the death of feminism," said Penelope, faking a snore.

"It's tradition," muttered Josie. "Don't be a hater."

"Oh, come on! Stop pretending you don't want to win. If Lizzie isn't going to do this, the one that should get to follow in your mother's footsteps is you. Winning Miss Mystic Falls would bring your family history full-circle in a way that Lizzie would never appreciate, so now you're going to pretend you're on board with her idea to use Hope? That's so unfair!"