Page 9 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
From the neck down, at least.
“What if someone out there sees me?” She peers out the peephole on our door.
Seriously? “It’s the middle of the night. I’m sure they’re all getting their beauty sleep.”
She hesitates, lingering by the door.
We don’t have time to argue again, and I have the sinking feeling that Ginny might consider death preferable to being seen by her fellow pageant queens in her present condition.
“How about a disguise?” I grab the sorting hat I bought at the theme park and jam it on top of her head.
It’s huge, and even with her swollen face, Ginny’s head is still beauty queen petite, made for a tiara. There’s enough extra room for me to pull down on the brim of the hat so that it covers everything but her chin.
“I can’t see a thing.” Her voice is muffled by the thick brown felt.
“Good, that means no one can see you either.” I open the door and push her swollen, vain self out into the hallway.
We take the stairs because Ginny is convinced the elevator could still be full of pageant contestants—doubtful, considering the hour. But again, I’m too tired to argue. I hold Ginny’s hand, guiding her down the five flights as she peeks beneath the brim of the hat.
I can’t help but think about the charming man I met earlier in the stairwell, and I wonder what he’d say if he stumbled upon us now. No doubt he’d make some witty quip about the sorting hat. The thought makes me smile, and then my grin fades when another, much uglier thought drifts to the forefront of my mind.
For once, someone would look at us and think thatI’mthe pretty one.
What kind of monster am I? I bite my lip, hard, as a form of self-punishment. And I give Ginny’s hand a squeeze. “We’re almost there. Just one more flight of stairs.”
At last we reach the ground floor, and the hotel lobby is vacant but brightly lit. Two sleek cars for hire are parked in the valet area, and I offer up a silent prayer of thanks for luxury spa accommodations.
We climb into the back seat of the first town car, and I ask the driver to take us to the closest emergency medical center. He assures me the urgent-care center down the road is indeed open all night, and we’re there within minutes.
I don’t have to say a word to the woman at the front desk. We walk in, she takes one look at Ginny and immediately ushers us to an exam room. A doctor in scrubs orders a nurse to prepare an IV drip of epinephrine and Benadryl while he shines a light toward the back of Ginny’s throat and a third person in scrubs takes her blood pressure. The numbers are frighteningly low.
I wrap my arms around myself and pace the tiny room.
This is really happening.
What if I hadn’t been there? What if I’d been back in Texas and Ginny had been in that room all alone, terrified to leave in case someone from the pageant saw her like this?
My hands ball into fists. This stupid, stupid pageant.
“You’re about to feel a shock of cold, followed by a sense of euphoria,” the doctor tells Ginny as the nurse ties a tourniquet around her arm in preparation for the IV. He slides his gaze toward me. “Then she’ll get very drowsy. I’m assuming you’re tourists? You’ll need to stay put for a few days so she can sleep this off.”
Ginny shakes her head. “Days? No. I—”
“Whatever you say, Doctor,” I interrupt, nodding.
The nurse slides the needle in place and attaches the IV tubing. I can tell the moment the medication hits Ginny’s bloodstream because her eyes widen and she lets out a loud shudder.
She takes a deep, cleansing breath, and the nurse wraps a blanket around her shoulders.
All my life, I’ve had to dispel rumors about identical twins feeling each other’s pain. Everyone wants to believe that Ginny and I experience the same emotions, suffer the same hurts. It’s simply not true. We share the same DNA, but we’re two different people. If I cut myself, Ginny doesn’t bleed. Just me.
But in this moment, my relief is so profound that I feel my lungs expand along with hers. My sister’s breath is my breath, and for some strange reason, I want to collapse into a ball and cry.
“Feeling better?” the doctor asks.
Ginny nods. “I guess I didn’t realize how awful I felt until the tightness in my chest went away just now.”
“It’s a good thing you got here when you did. Your airway wasn’t obstructed, but judging by the amount of edema in your face, it was only a matter of time.” The doctor flashes me a thumbs-up. “Good work getting her here quickly, although next time you might want to call nine-one-one.”
