Page 25 of The Daredevil

“Don’t be a coward and whisper behind my back. If you’re going to call someone a name, then say it loud and clear, BITCH.”

Brittany and her friends gasp and take a step back from me as though I might attack them.

A coordinator walks over. “You girls behaving?We don’t have time for this. We’re all part of the same team. We need to get along.”

“I’m usually a team player, but when someone steps on my toes, I retaliate.” I shrug my shoulders. “Just saying.”

“Well, I don’t want to hear any more curses from any of you. One more word, you’ll be disqualified.”

I don’t care if I’m disqualified, but I know it matters to Brittany and the other girls. For a moment, I want to walk away from them and this competition, but I want to win so I can shove it in their faces. Those always in second place desire what they can’t have.

A Dickinson poem from English class pops into my head.“Success is counted sweetest by those who ne’er succeed.”Everyone wants to feel accomplished, including me, but I don’t bully people to get it. I’ve been a runner-up before, so I know the emotions connected to that.

The emcee calls my name, and I step out onto the stage. My heart pounds as lights from the cameras flash. My mom sits in the front row, beaming with joy. Tears well in her eyes, and I know she’s proud of me. Smiling widely, she snaps photos, wipes away tears, and snaps more photos to add to the many albums I already have at home.

Seven judges sit at a table at the end of the runway. The man with the beard smirks when he sees me. I don’t like the way he looks at me. It makes me feel icky.

In order to make the event go by faster, I pretend to be someone else and smile as though I don’t see anyone. My heart pounds as I answer their questions. Before I know it, I’m backstage again wearing the tiara for winning Miss Teen National. Everyone congratulates me except Brittany and her friends.

I go to retrieve my belongings and find orange juice all over my clothes and duffel bag. Furious, my mom calls over the coordinator to complain. I know who did it, but I don’t have any proof. With all the energy I’ve exerted today, I’m too tired to battle with bullies. I’m done pretending to smile for this fake world. Brittany and her friends can be sore losers if they want to. Removing my tiara, I shove it into a fresh bag my mom gives me and we head home.

The treadmill beeped and welcomed me back to reality. I’d been on the treadmill for over an hour and was sweating like a pig. Most people only ran for an hour and hopped onto other machines, but the past pulled me down memory lane, reminding me how far I’d come.

Feeling invigorated, I got off the treadmill and checked my watch.I could make a trip to the grocery store to stock my refrigerator. After a quick shower in my apartment, I headed out to the quaint grocery store down the street.

Grabbing a shopping cart, I browsed through the fruits and vegetables. Keeping the refrigerator stocked with healthy foods prevented the monster from enticing me. Stress often pushed me to crave unhealthy food.

A chill scraped down my back.Go to the bakery. A chocolate cake is what you need, not these boring fruits and vegetables.

Ignoring the monster, I continued browsing the fruits.After picking out some apples, I placed the bag into my cart and saw the little girl I’d met on the plane. She wore a cheerful sweater dress and brown boots, looking adorable. That was how kids should look—innocent and without makeup.

She waved at me, and I returned the gesture. Her mom whispered something to her daughter before moving out of sight. I prayed that this little girl would find her way faster than I did. Maybe her situation wasn’t as bad as mine.

I got into the checkout line and noticed the couple in front of me. The man had blond hair like Royce, but wasn’t as striking. What was Royce doing right now?

Returning to my apartment, I put away my groceries, trying not to think about him, but his face kept appearing in my head. Would it be odd if I texted him out of the blue? Maybe I should just focus on writing my blog posts for NewYou Beauty. I had a good outline planned, so it wouldn’t take long to draft a few more posts. Royce was probably busy anyway.

Yeah, working on my blog was the logical solution. But the conversation I had with my friends intruded on my thoughts. How could I find out if he felt anything for me other than friendship? How could I do it without being obvious?

CHAPTERELEVEN

ROYCE

I rereadmy speech for tomorrow’s banquet and revised a few lines. I’d written the speech a month ago to prepare for this important gathering, hoping to gain new supporters for the Volcanic Sustainability Research Program. As a spokesperson for the program, I’d garnered millions of dollars to help the research team find innovative ways to use resources from volcanoes. Being a volunteer researcher, I’d taken part in some of the most profound discoveries.

Volcanoes were natural wonders of the Earth that produced powerful lava, which, if used correctly, could be the next energy source. It would take a while to prove the benefits of lava to the world. Though I’d attended several conferences worldwide,I never missed the one in my homeland, a large section of which was composed of lava rocks.

When I first enrolled in school in the United States, I remembered telling my friends I used to live on lava rocks. At first, they didn’t believe me, but after a few Google searches, they were amazed and asked a lot of questions.

Needing a stretch, I stood up from my office chair, walked over to the tall windows, and stretched out my arms. I stared out the window and looked toward Michelle’s building. What was she doing right now?

Why couldn’t I get her out of my mind? The attraction started that day when I picked her up during the rainstorm.

My phone rang, and I returned to my desk to pick up the call with a smile.

“How’s it going, Aunt Klara?”

“Everything’s going well at home. How are you doing over there?”

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