Page 11 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
“It’s hard to say. Three days, if you’re lucky.”
“Three days?” Ginny blinks. At least I think she does—it’s kind of hard to tell because her eyes are still nothing but tiny slits. I can’t even see her Real Housewives–size eyelash extensions.“Three days?”
“If you’re lucky.” The doctor stands, prepared to bolt.
I don’t blame him. I kind of want to slink out the door behind him.
“But I don’t have three days.” Ginny’s voice breaks, and the doctor pauses on his way out.
“I’m sorry. Truly, I am.” He looks at me one last time. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow to check in and see how she’s doing.”
“Sure.” I nod.
I’ll be answering that call from Texas. The minute we get back to the hotel, I’m booking our flights back home. There’s no reason to stay here if Ginny can’t compete in the pageant, and as much as I need a vacation, I refuse to be trapped in a room with her as she mourns the tragic end of her career as a beauty queen. Frankly, that seems like the worst possible way to spend my summer break.
Until the doctor opens his mouth again and suggests something far more horrendous.
“Since you two are twins, maybe you can take your sister’s place in the pageant until she feels better?” He shoots me a wink.
An actual, flirty littlewink. I don’t know whether to be flattered or mortified. What is even happening right now?
“Oh my God,yes!” Ginny squeals.
Oh my God, no!
No, no, no. Just...
No.
I close my eyes and pray for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. It turns out being the pretty one isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
4
“No.” I cross my arms and glare at Ginny. “Don’t even think about it.”
Too late. She’s positively wild-eyed with excitement. Aren’t the drugs supposed to be making her sleepy? When does the drowsiness kick in?
Because right now she’s practically manic with glee. “It’s the perfect solution.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a terrible idea.” So terrible that I might even sue that quack of a doctor for malpractice for putting it in Ginny’s head.
“Why? I mean, it would take some work, obviously. A lot of work.” She looks me up and down. “Like atonof effort...”
I glare even harder. She’s in no position to critique my appearance at the moment.
“But you could totally do it. We’ll just need to do something to your hair. And your face. And your lashes. And your—”
I hold up a hand. “For the love of God,stop.”
She gives me the same sympathetic head tilt she uses when she’s waxing poetic about sad, unwanted shelter pets. “I’m not trying to be mean, but you know how pageants are.”
Yes, I know exactly how pageants are. Which is precisely why I’ll never, ever participate in one of them. Has she lost her mind? Just the thought of draping one of those sashes across my body makes me sick to my stomach.
“It’s hot in here.” I fan myself and start pacing the tiny space again. “I need some water.”
Ginny ignores my suffering. Big surprise. “A makeover wouldn’t be the end of the world, you know. I don’t remember the last time I saw you without a ponytail.”
“What’s wrong with my hair? You’re the one who talked me into these bangs.” I gesture at my forehead.
