Page 52 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
She nods. “Just don’t forget the most important thing.”
“What’s that? Actually possessing talent?”
“No. The most important thing is eye contact! I’ve told you so a million times.”
She has. I’ve just been trying not to dwell too much on it. I’ve managed to convince myself that I won’t make a complete and total idiot of myself out there, but the thought of making eye contact with Gray Beckham is daunting, to say the least.
“Right,” I mutter, fumbling with the doorknob.
“Don’t forget,” Ginny calls after me. “It’s super important.”
I shut the door behind me without making any promises in the eye-contact department.
“Come on, Buttercup,” I whisper. “Let’s do this.”
When we arrive downstairs, the scene in the ballroom looks like an open call forAmerica’s Got Talent. Everywhere I turn, I see women wearing beaded gowns and wielding musical instruments. Ukuleles, flutes, clarinets, and violins. There’s even an actual tuba. Most of the contestants who don’t have an instrument tucked under their arms are either wearing dance costumes or going through the vocal scales. From where I’m standing, I can hear “Memory” fromCatscoming at me from three different directions.
I take a deep breath and hug Buttercup a little tighter, trying to get my bearings. A ballerina twirls past me on pointe. I can see batons being tossed into the air, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that giving up the twirling was a good call.
Still, I can’t help but feel a little out of my depth. Also, I’m the only person here who’s holding an animal. I’m either about to make a complete fool of myself, or nail this competition. I get the sense there’s no middle ground. Either way, Buttercup and I are sure to be memorable.
“Oh my gosh.” Torrie’s eyes widen when she spots me. “You’ve got a dog.”
“I do.” I can’t tell if she’s impressed or horrified. “This is Buttercup.”
“She’s precious. But I don’t get it. Is she part of your talent? It says in the program that you’re a twirler.”
I nod. “There’s been a slight change in plans.”
Ginny called the pageant director earlier and requested a change. Thank goodness it was approved. She said she’d recently suffered a twirling mishap and wasn’t sure she could bring herself to touch her baton again so soon. Which was all technically true, I suppose.
Miss Virginia walks past us and does a double take. “Oh. My. God. Is that adog?”
Buttercup snorts. “Um...”
“It’s part of her talent,” Torrie says.
“She’s adorable! Look at those eyes. Sooo cute.” Miss Virginia waves more people over with the bow from her violin. “Look, y’all! Ginny’s talent is a dog.”
Within seconds we’re surrounded by a mob of fawning beauty queens, mostly girls from Torrie’s cheeseburger party. They alloohandaahover Buttercup. The little dog seems a little overwhelmed by the attention and starts shivering in my arms. My stomach plummets. The last thing I need is for her to get stage fright.
“What does she do?” Torrie says. “Does she ride a skateboard? I saw a bulldog do that once on television, and it was precious.”
“No.” I smile. “No skateboard.”
Torrie sighs. “Oh. Does she ride a tricycle?”
I shake my head.
“A scooter?” Miss Virginia offers.
My smile grows tight. “No.”
Miss Nevada goes wide-eyed. “OMG. Does she rideanother dog?”
My smile disappears altogether. “No. I thought you were a veterinarian. Are dogs riding dogs even a thing?”
She shrugs. “You’d be surprised.”
