Page 40 of Small Town Sash

Hadley could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, her curvy frame rigid with indignation. "I worked hard for this. I don't need someone else pulling strings for me."

"Worked hard? Maybe on your back, but that's not the sort of person we want representing Hero, now is it," Mrs. Shomacker shot back, her tone dripping with contempt.

"And when you aren't doing the dirty work yourself, mommy dearest is doing it for you," Lily Shomacker added with a sneer.

The air between the trio crackled with tension. Hadley's blue eyes blazed with a fire that had nothing to do with the stage makeup. "You have it all wrong. None of that is true, and I'm sick of you spreading lies. I'm not just a pretty face. I have more to offer than just looks."

"Sure, darling. And I'm the Queen of England," Mrs. Shomacker said with a scoff, patting her hair as if to secure an invisible crown.

Hadley took a step forward, her voice ringing out, "Maybe you should focus on your own family, instead of meddling in everyone else's business."

Mrs. Shomacker bristled, puffing up like an indignant pigeon. "How dare you speak to me that way, you ungrateful child."

"Enough," Hadley snapped, her patience frayed to its breaking point. "This ends now."

Their voices echoed, turning heads and silencing conversations. Even the incessant hum of blow dryers paused as if the very air waited to see what would happen next.

The director's voice cut through the tension like a guillotine. "Hadley Wilder, you are hereby disqualified from this year's pageant."

"Disqualified?" Hadley's voice faltered, her heart plummeting to her stomach.

"Your behavior is unbecoming of a queen," George said, his face an unreadable mask.

"But she—" Hadley's protest died on her lips. Pointing fingers wasn't going to fix this, and she knew it.

Her mother loomed over her, the scent of her perfume suffocating. "Come with me right now." She grabbed Hadley by the arm and yanked her out of earshot of everyone. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"I was standing up for?—"

"Yourself? Or your pride?" Her mother's words stung more than the slap of a sash being ripped away.

"Mom, I?—"

"Years of training, thousands of dollars, and for what?" Her mother's disappointment was palpable; each word, a weight added to Hadley's shoulders. "To throw it away in a fit of temper?"

"Mom, please." Hadley's plea was barely a whisper, her eyes searching for some glimmer of understanding.

"You think this won't follow you?" Her mother's tone was sharp as shattered glass. "Pageant circles talk, Hadley. They'llremember the girl who couldn't handle pressure. The girl who blew up in front of all the other contestants and went after an elderly woman."

Hadley wrapped her arms around herself, the cold realization settling in. The tiara might be gone, but the crown of shame felt all too real.

The music started for the evening gown practice. The noise filled Hadley's ears, drowning out her mother's scolding. She felt numb, like she'd floated out of her body and was watching the scene unfold from a distance.

"There was no need to talk to Mrs. Shomacker," her mother snapped; the red lipstick on her thin lips contrasting sharply with her pale skin. "Why can't you just be quiet and smile like the other girls?"

Hadley opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She felt like she was choking on her own regret.

"I can't believe you did this to us. We were this close to having it all, and you had to go and ruin it all."

"Mom, I'm sorry, okay?" Hadley's voice held a tremble she couldn't control.

"Sorry doesn't win crowns," her mother snapped, packing up makeup with sharp, calculated movements.

"Maybe not, but it wins self-respect."

"Self-respect won't get you the title."

"Neither will being miserable." Hadley met her mother's gaze, holding it with a newfound steadiness.

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