The President's Daughter (A Harry Styles Fan fiction)

Chapter 18: Life of the Party

Dakota's POV

Come on Dakota, you can do this. You've jumped hurdles all your life, this is just one of them.

I motion Bailey, my horse to start galloping and off we jump across the pole.

"That was brilliant, Honey!" I hear my dad cheer.

I gave him a wave as the judges raise their scoreboards up. The first judge gave me an 8, that bitch. Meanwhile the two others, gave me a 9. Not bad. But not good enough.

NOT GOOD ENOUGH. HMMM.... SOUNDS FAMILIAR. I THINK IT REMINDS OF SOMETHING OR SOMEONE. 

As much as I want to remember him, I don't want to. He turned me into what I am now, a lonely girl trapped in her perfect life in which, she has to smile in front of the camera in order to capture the whole world's attention, and I hate it. I hate my life. I hate him.

I step down from Bailey and pet her for just a quick second before standing beside my competitors. I don't introduce myself to them; I'd rather be the friend-less loser than talk with fake-sassy people. 

"Oh hey, I saw you on the tabloids last week." one of my competitors, give me a smirk.

"Interesting...... because I really didn't know people would care about The President's daughter!" I hiss at her.

"Sheesh. You take everything seriously." she laughs.

As much as I want to smack her right here, right now, I have to control my temper, snotty rich kids are such pain in the butts.

Mrs. Van Der Beilt, the hostess, also the announcer of this competition, grabs the microphone from one of the technical staff and smiles at all of us. She waves at me lightly as I return her one as well. That's right bitches, I have connections. Hah.

"You all did great today, ladies, but there can only be 1, first place. We have made our decisions, and good luck to all of you." she states as the people give her the envelope of winners.

"In third place, garnering 2 sevens and an 8, goes to Ms. Elizabeth Bloomingdale." she announces.

Phew, I'm safe. Elizabeth Bloomingdale. Yes, their family owns Bloomingdale's, big difference. They weren't considered as New Yorker Elites right until his dad studied in Brown. Pretentious.

A fake smile forms on my face as Elizabeth Bloomingdale walks out of the line and steps into the 3rd runner up podium.

"Now in 2nd place, our one and only, Ms. Dakota Burke!" Mrs. Van Der Beilt proudly states.

2nd place? Are you fucking kidding me right now?

An even faker smile appears on my face as one of the ladies, hands me the flower bouquet and Mrs. Van Der Beilt puts the silver medallion around my neck.

"Congratulations, sweet pea!" she coos.

Sweet pea my ass. 

"Thank you." I reply with pretty much the most sarcastic smile I have ever made>

"AAAGGHHH!!"" I throw the bouquet of flowers on the front lawn on the house, luckily there aren't people, viewing the white house yet.

"Call Mrs. Burke." I hear one of the guards instruct.

I step on the bouquet and pour out all my anger on the stupid purple bouquet of flowers. 

"I hate this! I hate this! I hate this! I hate this!!" I whimper as I continue breaking the bouquet's mini vase.

"I deserve so much more!" I scream, kicking the flowers.

"YOU SUCK!! YOU SUCK YOU SUUUUCK!" I shout, stepping on the vase, leaving them into tiny bits and pieces.