Beauty Queen

Chapter 1: Death by Cupcake

Last Saturday, I sat down to chat with the up and coming beauty sensation, Mia Meyers, over a cup of java and sweet treat. As much as it pains me to admit, I was hit with a wave of mediocracy. Despite claims of having "so much to offer" and "noticeable traits", Meyers is quite the disappointment. After the standard inquiry of Meyers's career and lifestyle, I was not impressed. Between a shocking diet, unbendable schedule, and an incredibly tight leash by her mother, it is clear that Mia Meyers is all work and no play. So what can all the fans be looking forward to from the young, successful pageant girl? Nothing but a pretty face.

Allen Evers, 17 magazine

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Believe it or not, it wasn't the astonishingly rude interviewer that set my mom off, or the invasive questions, or even the all too blunt article.

"Mia Hope Meyers, who do you think you are?! Accepting an interview at a sweet shop is one thing, but actually eating a cupcake? You must be out of your right mind!" My mom slammed her hands down on the granite countertop of our model home kitchen, nearly crushing her perfectly squared and California Raspberry painted nails.

I let out and exasperated sigh, ventured to the point of rolling my eyes. "I licked the frosting, mom. I didn't even take a bite. He was pressuring me."

I knew I had said the wrong thing when her face, already fire engine red, went from mad to madder, turning a splotchy burgundy hue. "As if that doesn't do the trick! A girl like you can look at a cupcake and gain ten pounds! Do you even know how long it could take to fully detox a cupcake?! I don't care if Mr. Evers forced that cupcake in to your mouth, any daughter of mine would spit it out!"

I stayed quiet for a moment, the gears in my brain turning at full speed, fishing for a witty comeback. But I knew that even if I came up with one, it was useless. When mom pulled the "any daughter of mine" card, the argument was over. Because in the end, I was a daughter of hers. And being a daughter of Regina Meyers meant you never got the last word. There was no shaking her. When she finished her scolding, you retreat.

Before my mom could sentence me to my room, I took matters into my own hands, mumbling something like an apology as I left the kitchen. I wanted to be gone before she had the chance to move on to things that might seem more prominent if you weren't my mom; like how poorly I handled the interview. I walked up our marble staircase and tried to pinpoint where I went wrong.

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When I agreed to do the interview, it seemed like a good idea to both me and my mom. 17 magazine was one of the biggest things that had happened to me outside of the pageant and I was eager to take the opportunity. However, had I known it was the infamous reporter Allen Evers interviewing me, I would have fled immediately. Unfortunately, I was unaware of that until I got to Lucy's bake shop.

The interview started fine, with Allen asking all the typical reporter questions. It wasn't until the waiter came over, presenting us with two mugs of black coffee and two sugary pink cupcakes that I began to question his motives.

"Oh no, Allen, I really can't," I declined kindly, nudging the plate away.

"But of course you can. It's just a little cupcake." Allen added a bitter sweet grin to his insist.

I turned down his offer multiple times more, until Allen's comebacks began to go from kind to forceful. Eventually, I gave in, taking a small lick of the sickly sweet frosting. I knew it would result in bullying from my mother, further prodding about my diet from Allen, and many other issues, but with Allen, it was unavoidable. Or at least, that's what I thought.

From that point on, the interview was unbearable. Allen's questions became more personal and insulting, pushing every limit I had. Eating the cupcake had put me over the edge. While not every mom was as strict as mine, pageant girls didn't indulge often. Had it been anyone other than Allen, I would've guessed they were just guessing that I'd eat the cupcake to save a face, but with Allen I suspected sabotage.

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I opened the door to my room, suddenly face to face with all that represented my life. Gleaming silver and gold pageant trophies lined the shelves, accompanied by medals, crowns, and dozens of framed pictures, almost one for each pageant. I walked over and took down one picture, my favorite. I'm almost 5 years old, my features still little and cute, but I'm gorgeous nevertheless. I'm wearing a light blue dress, lined with sequins and lace, and I'm holding my moms hand. In the picture, we both wear the biggest smiles I've ever seen. The picture is a constant reminder of why I do pageants; to make my mom happy.

I put the picture back in its shelf and turned towards my bed. Flopping down on the fluffy satin comforter, I reached for my cell phone. I began to scroll through all my contacts; a disappointing list. I'd counted them before; I only had 39 numbers of people my age, 37 of which were all girls I had met in pageants. The other 2 were girls I had gone to school with before I had switched to homeschooling, and had long since forgot about me.

After scrolling through my contacts several times I stopped on the name Liza Campbell. I clicked on the name and selected "send message".

Hi Liz :)

She responded back almost immediately.

Hey! What's up??

Nm. Are you going to rehearsal tomorrow?

yea! U?

Yeah. I hear we have fittings.

Can't decide if I'm scared or excited, lol. I gtg, see u 2morrow?

Yep. Bye Liz.

I sighed and placed my phone on the nightstand, determined to get good sleep for the next day. Another day of pageants, another day of Charlotte, and another day of my mom.