Revenge of the Girl With the Great Personality

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  “She took some photos of us, mostly you, and made some comments.”

  My stomach drops. “What kind of comments?”

  “When you click on your face, instead of saying your name it said things like ‘desperate,’ ‘wannabe,’ ‘troll’ — stupid things like that.”

  “Oh.” I can’t get anything else out. I can’t think of anything else to say. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised about what she did; it’s pretty typical of her. But even if I was anticipating something like this, it still doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.

  Cam gives me a tight smile. “Don’t let it get you down. She’s just jealous. Ignore her and she’s bound to go away.”

  I’m guessing that ignoring Brooke will be easier said than done, but I try to push those words out of my mind. Is that how she really sees me? Does everybody else see me that way?

  Cam gives me a hug before she heads to class. I do my best to shake the negative thoughts from my head and not let it get to me. I see Benny approach with a sympathetic frown on his face.

  News sure gets around fast.

  “It’s okay,” I say before he can get a word in. The last thing I need is for one more person to feel sorry for me. I wrap my arm around Benny’s. “Let’s get to class.”

  We round the corner to English when we see Brooke approaching me with a smile on her face.

  Benny leans in. “Do you want me to …”

  “It’s okay.”

  Actually, it isn’t okay. But what can I really do about it? Saying something would definitely make it worse.

  “Hey, Lexi,” she says sweetly as she blocks Benny and me from proceeding farther down the hallway, which is quite amazing since she’s so tiny, but her intimidation factor is through the roof. “We need to hang out more. I’d love to go shopping with you sometime. You have such ah-mazing taste in clothing. I’ll text you!” And without another word, she walks past us.

  Benny breaks the stunned silence between us. “What was that?”

  “I have no idea.” Does she think that I wouldn’t hear about what she did? Or does she think that she can break me so easily? Why would she even want to hang out with a “wannabe” and a “troll”? And does she even know what a troll is? I’m a few inches taller than her, so what, exactly, would that make her?

  Benny clicks his teeth in disgust. “You’re not going, are you?”

  “What? Going where?”

  “Shopping. With Brooke.”

  I give a nondescript shrug of my shoulders. Part of me has no desire to be around her. Ever. But another part of me wants to see what game she’s playing.

  And okay, there’s another part of me, a very teeny, tiny part, that wants her acceptance.

  If you would’ve told me a month ago that I’d be invited to a party at Grant’s and go on a date with Taylor, I would’ve said that you were living in a fantasy world. But what I’m doing right here, right now? Well, I would’ve put myself in a loony bin at the mere thought of it even two days ago. Yet here I am.

  Brooke rummages through the rack at an upscale department store in the mall. I visit this place every once in a while to see what they have out, but I could never afford anything here.

  “So …” Brooke addresses me without taking her eyes off of a long black tank dress she has in her hands. “How are things with Taylor?”

  Is that why she asked to do something with me? To find out about my, ah, relationship with Taylor? Oh my goodness, am I in a relationship? I pick up a jacket near me and pretend to study the zipper, delaying a response. I don’t know what to say. I know anything I tell Brooke will be around the school in 2.4 seconds.

  “Good. I’m seeing him tomorrow night.”

  A ringing sound comes from Brooke’s very expensive red leather satchel.

  “Ugh, it’s Hannah,” Brooke says as she silences her phone. “Isn’t she so needy?” she asks expectantly.

  I don’t respond. Hannah’s always been nice enough to me. I thought she and Brooke were BFFs, but I guess with Brooke it’s BFFN (Best Friends For Now).

  It’s funny, because in a way, Brooke reminds me of a few of the pageant girls. She clearly abides by one of their most sacred pageant rules: If you don’t have anything nice to say, wait until her back is turned.

  Brooke heads into the dressing room without another word, probably unsatisfied with my lack of trash talking.

  I continue to look around the store, wondering why I even agreed to this. I guess it’s more out of curiosity than anything else. But I can completely understand that Benny and Cam aren’t too pleased that I’d go, as Cam put it, “shopping with the enemy.” After I told her I was going today, she slammed her head down on the lunch table so loudly that half the cafeteria turned around. She had a red blotch on her forehead for the remainder of the day. Then she told me that she’d disown me if I turned into a Beauty Bot and started eating lunch at the Popular Posse table. I had to pinkie swear that I would never do such a horrific thing.

  “Are you coming or not?” I hear Brooke call out from the dressing room.

  I walk in and see her in front of a three-way mirror examining herself from every angle.

  “What do you think?”

  I’ve been asked this question hundreds of times at work. Generally people ask it when they aren’t positive they like something or have a concern. But with Brooke, I think she only wants positive reinforcement. Which is hard in this instance, because while the dress looks nice on her, it gaps where her armpits are, since she’s so tiny but has a big chest for her frame. It really doesn’t look good, but I’m terrified of saying anything.

  “Well …” I try to think of what I should say, but I don’t want to lie. I hate being manipulated and don’t feel comfortable doing it to someone, even if that someone is Queen Manipulator. Maybe she would even appreciate someone telling her the truth for once. “I think … that maybe it fits a little weird around the arms.”

  Brooke lifts her arms and can see that her purple lace bra is showing with the gap in the dress.

  “It’s more a flaw with the design of the dress,” I add.

  She goes into the dressing room with a slam of the door.

  Mental note for the future: Do NOT tell the truth. Just say she looks great.

  I hear my stomach growl. “Hey, Brooke,” I call out to her. “I’m getting hungry, do you want to grab something to eat?”

  “No.”

  I reach in my purse and grab a cherry pie Lärabar. I’m halfway through eating it when she opens up her dressing room door and stares at me.

  “Wow. You eat a lot.”

  I look down at my super-healthy snack. “Um, you’re supposed to eat every few hours. Do you want one?”

  I dig through my purse.

  “No.” She scrunches up her nose at me.

  “Are you sure? It’s good. They’re gluten free.” I stop myself from giving Brooke the same food lecture I give my mom. The difference between the two is that all my mom eats is junk, while I’m pretty sure Brooke doesn’t eat at all. I know it’s not fair of me to make assumptions about Brooke, because Cam’s super skinny and eats more than me and Benny combined. But I’ve never seen Brooke eat anything more than a few bites of food.

  Brooke takes a piece of gum out of her bag. “I’m sure.” She gives me the death stare as she puts the stick in her mouth.

  I give up, and honestly I could care less about what Brooke thinks.

  But then, if I don’t care, what am I doing here?

  “Well, well …” Mark knocks on the employee break room door at the end of my shift the following day. He gives me a little smirk. “Your guest is here. It all starts making sense.”

  I finish changing into my cute date shoes and ignore his comment. I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror and grab my purse.

  Mark has the door blocked. “I’m trying to figure out if he bought all those clothes weeks ago because he liked you, or if you’re dating him as a thanks for the commission. Either way, the
dedication to your job has not gone unnoticed.”

  I move his arm away and go into the store to see Taylor browsing.

  “Hey,” I say to get his attention.

  “Hi.” He smiles at me and gives me a quick hug.

  “Ahem.” Mark clears his voice loudly.

  I can’t believe he’s going to make me introduce him like he’s my parent. Well, sometimes Mark acts more like a father figure to me than my actual father.

  “Mark, this is Taylor; Taylor, this is my boss, Mark.”

  They shake hands.

  “So where are you two off to?” Mark asks.

  “Just going to grab a bite at The Court.” I give him a smile that says Don’t push it any further.

  Mark starts to rub his chin, like he’s deep in thought. “I see. And how late will you be this evening?”

  “Don’t wait up.” I grab Taylor’s arm and head out to the mall. “Sorry about that. I’d like to say that he’s a little overprotective, but basically he just likes to humiliate me.”

  “Oh good.” Taylor seems flustered. “Not good that he humiliates you, I got worried that I’d have yet another guy who would threaten me if anything happens to you.”

  Taylor can tell from my reaction that I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  He leans in close to me. “Your friend Benny came up to me today. He said that he hoped I had fun tonight, but not too much fun.”

  “Oh my God, no he didn’t. You’re lying!”

  He holds up his arms. “I kid you not. He’s a big guy, I have to admit, it freaked me out a bit. I didn’t realize he could be so intimidating. We’ve got to get him on the football team.”

  I can’t believe Benny would do that. It makes me love him even more. Although the chances of Benny joining the football team are as likely as me becoming BFFN with Brooke.

  “Anyway, Josh told me that new mini-golf place is pretty cool. You want to try it out on Saturday?”

  We haven’t even finished our second date and he’s already asking me on a third? The excitement I feel dies quickly as I realize what’s this Saturday.

  “I can’t on Saturday. I have to go help out at my sister’s pageant.” Not to mention that I was supposed to see my father.

  Taylor studies my face. “That must be hard to have to devote so much time to your little sister.”

  I’m almost speechless. I’m used to dropping everything for the pageants, but truthfully, it can be a burden. And never did I think someone like Taylor would notice.

  “It can be pretty frustrating….” I allow myself to speak the truth for once. But I can’t really elaborate, out of fear of what would come out of my mouth.

  My phone comes to life. I glance at the screen and see it’s Mom.

  “Do you need to …” Taylor motions toward my phone.

  “Um, it’s my mom, I should probably …”

  I pick up the phone and move to the corner of the food court. I hate when people talk on their phones in public, especially in the mall. I can’t even begin to describe some of the horribly personal conversations I’ve had to listen to while at work. I usually try to get as far away from the people as possible, but there are only so many places I can hide on the floor. Just last week a woman came in and started breaking up with her boyfriend on the phone, all while searching the rack for her size.

  “Thank goodness you picked up.” Mom sounds out of breath.

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “I need you to take your sister to her dance class.”

  Of course she needs me to do something.

  “When?” I don’t even bother to hide the annoyance in my voice.

  “The class starts in fifteen so you need to get over here ASAP.”

  “But I’m with Taylor and we —”

  “Not now, Lexi.” She cuts me off. “I got called into work to cover somebody who’s out sick, and we could really use the extra money. Come and pick your sister up and take her. It really isn’t a big deal. See you soon.”

  And she hangs up. Because she knows I’ll come. Because she really couldn’t care less what I have going on, even if it’s a date with a boy.

  Because what I want never seems to matter, does it?

  “Is everything okay?” Taylor looks at me with concern.

  “Oh, um, yes … Well, no. I have to go and take my sister to dance practice.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers.

  God no. The last thing I want is to have to drag anybody else onto Planet Mackenzie.

  “It’s okay, I should go. Sorry, um …”

  Taylor smiles and rubs my back. “That sucks. Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”

  He’s being so nice. I wonder if I’m part of some plan for him. Like charity work or something. There has to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. There’s no way a makeover can have this kind of power over any guy. No matter what Teen Vogue says.

  I excuse myself and head to my car. To do the bidding of a seven-year-old diva.

  It seems like I can have whatever plan I want, but somehow, some-way, the pageants always have to come first. No matter what.

  I don’t know why I’m shocked that Mackenzie’s having a tantrum. But instead of being tired or upset about her hair or outfit, she’s freaking out over my outfit.

  “Then make her take it off.” Mac stamps her foot on the floor.

  “Take what off, sweetie?” Mom asks.

  “All of it — her makeup, that outfit. Why isn’t she wearing her Team Mackenzie shirt? Why is she wearing that?”

  Mackenzie points to the outfit I wore for my first date with Taylor. It isn’t anything super special, although I did get some compliments on my way in from the regular pageant goers who until today didn’t realize I was a girl or had a figure.

  Honestly, I can’t believe Mom isn’t making me wear the T-shirt to the Texas Beauty Tykes interview. She’s proudly wearing hers.

  “Sweetie,” Mom says in the high cooing voice she reserves for Mackenzie’s worst days, “we’ve got to go downstairs and meet with the producers. Don’t you want to be on TV?”

  Mac scrunches up her face. “Not if she’s going to be there.” She points at me dramatically.

  Yes, me. The girl who should be spending the weekend with her father. The one who has to pull a double shift tomorrow at work to make up for bailing on yet another Saturday to attend a pageant. Me, who could be playing mini golf with Taylor right at this very moment.

  What’s odd is that Mac has never minded me being at the pageant as long as I did what I was told and wore the Team Mackenzie T-shirt. But the times, they clearly are a-changing.

  “They want to meet the whole family,” Mom says, ignoring the fact that we’re down one father figure.

  “Honestly, Mackenzie.” I figure someone’s got to try to talk some sense into her. “You yourself said that I’m ugly, so I don’t know why it bothers you so much that I’m just trying to be like my gorgeous baby sister.” I smile sweetly at her.

  “You’re doing this to make fun of me and everything about pageants.”

  Wow. I’ve been underestimating Mackenzie all this time. She knows way more than she lets on.

  “Honey” — Mom glances at her watch — “if you want to be on TV, we’ve got to go now. Lexi isn’t going to say anything to the producers.” She turns to me and gives me a warning look. “Are you, Lexi?”

  “Of course not.”

  And I mean it. I plan on playing the role of the saintly mute. And if, Lord help us, we get accepted, I’ll overbook myself at work and stay over at Benny’s. There’s no way I want to be on television. Sure, someday I want my designs to be featured during Fashion Week or on the red carpet. However, I don’t want my fifteen minutes (more like fifteen seconds) to be on Texas Beauty Tykes.

  Mackenzie gets up and makes a big production out of leaving. As if she’s doing us a favor. Like the draw of the spotlight isn’t enough to motivate her to do anything.

  We hea
d downstairs to the conference room where the producers are meeting with potential targets — I mean participants. There are nearly twenty girls in line, from ages two to ten. Nervous mothers pace the hallway.

  We see Lauren come out of the room.

  “Miss Lauren!” Mackenzie runs over and gives her a hug.

  “Well, hey, sweetie. Great to see you. The producers were asking me about you.”

  “They were?” Mom puts her hand to her heart for extra effect.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lauren gives Mom an encouraging pat on her back. “They know I’ve worked on a lot of the girls here so they asked for my thoughts. And of course, I said nothing but glowing things about our Miss Mackenzie.”

  Lauren’s face lights up when she gets a look at me. “Why, Lexi! Look at you, gorgeous!”

  I give her a giant hug. “All thanks to you.”

  She waves me off. “Just helping to highlight what God gave you.”

  I lean in so Mom and Mac can’t hear. “Thanks. I cut out some looks in a few magazines I was hoping maybe you could help me with.”

  “Of course! Find me after the interview.”

  “Really? Thanks so much!” I clap my hands really fast and throw my head back in laughter — giddy, squealy, very un-Lexi schoolgirl laughter. I’ve noticed a few of the people waiting for the producers are looking at me.

  Better rein it in.

  Lauren wishes us luck as Mom heads into the room. The producers asked to speak with the parents first, so Mac and I wait for her outside.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Mackenzie’s voice is strained. I look over and see her face getting really red.

  “Doing what?”

  She looks at me with her big eyes. “Why are you walking around like you’re auditioning for some makeover show? And why are you trying to create a scene at the pageant? This is supposed to be about me.”

  “It’s always about you, Mackenzie.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Oh, okay.” I don’t say anything else. As much as I don’t want to do this show, I don’t want to get Mac upset before she has to go in.

  “All you do is spend time with your friends,” she says in a small voice.

  Yeah, like I’m doing right now. My annoyance is growing by the second. It’s amazing that I’m allowed to have any time away from her kingdom.