Page 61 of Small Town Sash

"Okay, swimsuit time," Candace said, holding out the simple one-piece. "You sure about this?"

"Absolutely." Hadley slipped into the swimsuit with ease. It hugged her in all the right places, not for the sake of display but for comfort. She didn't need to show off her assets; her confidence was her greatest charm.

"Wow, Hadley," Lily murmured as she reemerged, "that's...different."

"Good different," she corrected, flashing her rival a cheeky grin.

"If you say so," the other woman shrugged, her eyes skeptical, but it didn't faze Hadley.

As she walked out for the swimsuit segment, heads turned—not for the skin she wasn't showing, but for the self-assurance she wore like a second skin. She sauntered down the runway, one hand on her hip, a playful smirk on her lips.

"Who says a one-piece can't be sexy?" she tossed the question into the crowd, half-rhetorical, half-defiant.

"Go, Hadley," someone shouted, and a ripple of agreement ran through the audience.

"Comfort over couture," Hadley mused aloud, reaching the end of the runway and pausing for effect. "Feels like victory to me."

The judges nodded, scribbling notes that Hadley imagined read: 'Confidence is the new black.'

"Take that, two-pieces," Hadley muttered under her breath, a light-hearted jab at pageant norms as she made her way backstage, every step a declaration of her newfound sense of self.

Backstage, a flurry of nerves and sequins swirled around Hadley. Instead, she was an island of calm in the chaos. With a deep breath, she stepped into the spotlight for the talent portion; guitar cradled like an old friend, the thrum of excitement in her veins.

She approached the microphone, the familiar weight of it grounding her. A hush fell over the crowd, expectation hanging thick as summer humidity.

"Here's a little song I wrote," she smiled, "It's called 'More Than a Crown.'"

"Ooh, original," someone in the crowd called out.

"Hit it," she said to the sound technician, her voice steady.

Her voice broke free—a melody rich and soulful, an anthem of her journey. She sang of dreams and drive, of looking beyond the surface. It wasn't just a song; it was her heart set to music. Laughter rippled through the audience at the playful lyrics, a stark contrast to the usual pageant ballads.

"Who knew Hadley could sing and play guitar like that?" one of the other contestants said from the side as the judges scribbled furiously on their scorecards.

"Girl's got pipes," a man in the audience shouted, nodding along to the beat.

Her fingers danced along the strings as if they were born to do just this. She leaned into the microphone, her black hair cascading over her shoulders, her voice a mixture of honey and daring.

"Because I'm more than just a tiara on my head," she belted out, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

"Sing it, Queen," Candace shouted from the wings, pride beaming from every pore.

As the last note lingered in the air, applause erupted, swelling like a wave crashing against the shore. Hadley's blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears of joy—not for the recognition but for the sheer thrill of sharing her truth, her music.

"Bravo, Miss Wilder," someone shouted from the back of the gymnasium, and the crowd's enthusiasm doubled.

"Who knew beauty queens could rock?" Randy chuckled from the judges' table, scribbling furiously.

"Thank you," she mouthed, bowing playfully, her heart racing as she left the stage with the strength she'd forged in the fires of personal struggle.

"Killed it," Candace grinned, high-fiving her as she went to the dressing room with her.

"Only the beginning," she winked, her confidence soaring.

It was time to get ready for the evening gown competition, and the backstage area was a whirlwind of activity.

"Stand still," Candace ordered with mock severity, adjusting the diagonal strap of the cream silk gown. "Perfection takes patience."

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