Page 69 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
I look like a woman in love.
Maybe I am, I think as I slip into the hotel and pad toward the stairwell. I must be, because for once the idea doesn’t frighten me. Even though right here, right now, it should. It should scare the life out of me.
Once I’m upstairs and standing outside of the room Ginny and I have been sharing for the past week, I realize I’ve lost my key. It might be in the ballroom, where later today, the onstage-question portion of the pageant will determine the finalists. Or it could be in a swan boat, discarded along with my inhibitions and any sense of self-preservation I once possessed. Either way, I’m locked out, so I take a deep breath and knock on the door.
Time to face the music.
I’m not sure what exactly awaits me on the other side of the door, but I’m prepared for drama. Worry, anger, tears—these are all very real possibilities. Ginny had been furious with me for staying too long at the party the other night, but this is a whole new level of abandon. I deserve whatever I’ve got coming to me. If Ginny had stayed out all night without giving me a heads-up, I’d definitely be upset.
But the door swings open to reveal a sight I am in no way prepared for.
“Hey.” Ginny sweeps me with her gaze, and her reaction to my disheveled appearance is nothing more than a flippant shrug. “Come on in. I’m busy getting ready.”
I don’t need to ask my twin what she’s getting readyfor, because her plans are obvious. She’s shed her ubiquitous terry cloth robe and slipper socks and is now dressed in one of the evening gowns I tried on the night before. It’s the red one—the Jessica Rabbit gown—but instead of looking like an over-the-top Halloween costume like it did when I tried it on, it looks flipping amazing.
Ginny’s waist is smaller than I’ve ever seen it. I’m not sure how it’s possible, but she somehow seems to be both thinner than I am and curvier at the same time. My mind goes instantly to a place where I never allow it to wander—straight to the bikini photos on her Instagram. The ones Adam bookmarked so he could pore over them again and again.
I swallow hard. There’s obviously something far more important happening right now than my humiliating relationship flashbacks. My twin is in pageant mode.
“Um.” My pulse pounds so hard, I feel as if I’m choking on my heartbeat. “What’s going on?”
“This.” Ginny turns away from the mirror and waves a slender hand at her face. “I’m better! Not all the way back to normal, but close enough. God, just in the nick of time. Great effort, by the way. But I’ve got it from here. I know how to win.”
I wait for her to acknowledge the fact that I’m still wearing my gown from the night before or that I’ve been out all night... or even that I’ve lost my key to the room.
She doesn’t. She just turns back toward the mirror and resumes curling her eyelashes.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. My role in this pageant was just a walk-on, and now it’s ended. I’m no longer needed. So what difference does it make where I’ve been or who I might have been with.
Ginny shoots me another glance in the mirror. “What are you doing? Take that dress off. I thought you’d be practically ripping it off to get back into your nerdy T-shirts and boyfriend jeans.”
She’s right. I should be relieved. I never wanted any of this to begin with, and I knew better than to think that I’d be the one with a glittering tiara on her head when all was said and done.
But I’m not. My knees wobble, and I have the strangest sensation that my body is on the verge of collapsing in on itself. I take a deep inhale, and I have to concentrate hard on the simple act of breathing in and out.
I’m familiar with this feeling. I’m sorry to say I know it well.
Humiliation.
I wrap my arms around myself and stare at my twin’s flawless reflection. Her makeup is perfect, and her hair hangs in a glossy curtain down her back. Even though she just said her face isn’t “all the way back to normal,” I see no trace whatsoever of the swelling she’s been battling all week. She’s a vision.
And then my gaze shifts ever so slightly to the left, and I see myself standing in the background. I no longer look like the wild, romantic goddess I fancied myself just moments ago. I’m a mess. My gown has held up surprisingly well, but Ginny’s fits her like a glove. We’re twins. Identical in every way. But we look like before and after photos of the same person. And just like always, I’m cast in the role ofbefore.
Ginny glances over her shoulder at me as she dabs her lips with gloss. “Take off the sash, would you? I’m going to need it.”
That’s what does it. Those words, which she’s so carelessly tossed out, are the final straw. My sisterstillhasn’t asked where I’ve been. She hasn’t even thanked me for getting her this far. Instead of gratitude, I’m being ordered to take off the sash.
An eerie calm comes over me as the heat of my humiliation cools into rage. Wordlessly, I slip the Miss Texas sash over my head. Then I carry it with me as I cross toward the vanity. Ginny turns and holds out her palms, clearly expecting me to hand it over. Instead, I reach behind her to pick up the tiny scissors she uses to trim her false eyelashes to the proper dimensions.
Then I cut the sash right down the middle.
Ginny lets out a horrific gasp as theMisshalf falls to the floor. I hand her the part that saysTexasand she takes it as if in a daze.
When I stomp toward the closet for my suitcase, I spot Buttercup watching me. Her eyes are even bigger and rounder than they usually are. I’ve managed to shock even the dog.
“What have you done?” Ginny says in a wooden voice. Then again—louder, with more than a touch of hysteria.“What have you done?”
I toss my suitcase onto the bed, undo the zipper, and flop it open. Buttercup immediately scrambles inside, which takes the edge off my fury. The little Frenchie sleeps on my bed instead of Ginny’s, and now she’s trying to stow away in my luggage.
