Page 34 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
“Where are you going?” She points somewhere behind me. “Miss Texas is supposed to be over there, between Tennessee and Utah. It’s all alphabetical. We went over this at rehearsal, remember?”
I grit my teeth. No, I don’t remember, because rehearsal was held two days ago, before Ginny’s allergy attack. “Got it.”
But she must not believe me because she escorts me to the proper place, inserts me between Miss Tennessee and Miss Utah, and makes me swear to stay put. I obey.
Surprisingly, I’m not at all tempted to flee. I need to do this. Not just for Ginny, but also for me. I need to prove to that arrogant Gray Beckham that he hasn’t gotten under my skin.
He has, in a major way. But no one else needs to know that, especially him.
I’m not even sure why he’s gotten me so stirred up. I just know that I find him infuriating, and I suddenly want to rock my bikini in a way that will make him sorry he stifled a laugh when he found me surrounded by candy bar wrappers in the stairwell.
At the memory of my vending machine haul, my stomach growls so loud that I can hear it above the din of the chaos backstage. I don’t regret a single nibble. In spite of all her talk about body positivity, Ginny declared food off-limits until the swimsuit prelims are over tonight. She’s promised me the dinner of my dreams, and in the meantime, I’m once again starving.
Clearly, I’m not the only one.
“I’m having a pizza the minute this is over,” Miss Tennessee says. “An entire pie, all to myself.”
Miss Utah laughs. “Oh my God, me too. Followed by a banana split.”
“I was seriously tempted earlier by the bag of puppy chow in my room,” I say drily. I’m only half joking, by the way.
The contestants around me laugh, and Miss Tennessee murmurs under her breath. “I’m sharing a room with Miss Virginia, and we’re having a cheeseburger party right after this—fries, onion rings, the works. You should stop by. Just don’t tell the pageant officials.”
My mouth falls open. “Why? Are burgers actuallyillegal?”
“No, but we want to keep it casual. No selfies, no Instagrams, no tweets. We want to hang out in sweatpants and be ourselves for a little while, you know?”
Idoknow. And frankly, as much as I love my twin, a little time apart might do us some good. That hotel room is feeling a little crowded. “That sounds perfect. I’m in.”
Seconds later, the production assistant is back, giving us some final words of wisdom.
“Don’t forget that you’re supposed to walk onstage when the announcer introduces the girl in front of you. Enter from stage left and walk to the center of the stage. There’s anXmade out of yellow tape on the floor, marking your spot. Once you hit it, strike your pose and hold it while the other girl does her runway walk. Understood?”
We all nod.
“After the girl before you makes her exit, the announcer will call your state and you’ve got ninety seconds to walk the runway. Make the most of it! Take your time. Don’t rush, and most of all, remember to pause and make eye contact with each of the judges.”
Oh boy.
I have to make eye contact with my nemesis... while wearing a bikini.
My stomach lurches. Maybe those candy bars weren’t such a brilliant idea after all.
You can do this, Snickers be damned.
The producer leaves, and Miss Tennessee, Miss Utah, and I all look at one another.
“We’re ready for this,” Miss Tennessee says resolutely. “Both of you look amazing.”
“So do you,” I say.
Miss Utah nods in agreement, takes both of our hands in hers and gives them a tight squeeze. “We’ve got this. We’re beautiful women, inside and out.”
I return her hand squeeze and my throat clogs.
What is happening to me? I can’t possibly be getting choked up over a swimsuit competition in a beauty pageant. Competing in this thing has got to be the absolute dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I should be crying tears of shame.
But the pep talk throws me off-kilter. Of course Ginny told me I look great and assured me I can rock this if I remember to slow down and “embrace my authenticity,” whatever that means.
