by Blair Holden
“Most of the world doesn’t,” I point out and he rolls his eyes.
“Everyone in this town looks at me like I’m a monumental fuckup. This girl, she didn’t have pity in her eyes and she wasn’t staring at me like I’d grown a second head. In fact, she went ahead and called me a dick! Can you believe it?” he asks, looking frighteningly happy for someone who’d been insulted.
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s the best; at least I know she doesn’t want me.”
“Again, is that a good thing?”
“Oh, come on. It means that she isn’t using me. She’s hot as hell and she hates me, it’s like the perfect combination.”
“Let me understand, her hating you is perfect because . . .”
“You of all people, little sis, should know that there’s a very thin line between love and hate.” He chuckles before getting off the kitchen stool and walking away.
Stupid fortune cookie of a brother.
***
At school all anyone can talk about is the charity gala and suddenly I’m everyone’s best friend. Word’s gotten out that I’m going with Cole and now girls want to talk to me about hair, makeup, and the travesty that is having huge pores.
I smile politely at all those who come up. I smile at the dance team who once dedicated a whole routine to my excess fat. I smile at the jocks who’ve concussed me with their various sports balls more than once, and last but not least, I smile at Nicole.
Though that’s only because she looks so miserable sitting at a table all on her own while people push and shove to sit with us. Obviously she’s got Jay and her minions with her, but with the way he keeps glancing in my direction, it appears he’s ready to make a run for it too.
“They make quite the pair, don’t they?” Cole laughs bitterly as we both notice the stares coming from the table opposite ours. His brother and the girl who’s still obsessed with him are both unrelenting in their desire to burn holes in the sides of our respective heads.
It doesn’t hurt one bit when I say, “Yeah, they do.”
***
I’m in the ladies’ room at school and it’s only a couple of minutes till lunch is over. Megan has decided that she needs to fix her makeup after every two classes. While part of me wants to tell her that Alex likes her, tangled hair and unglossed lips included, I decide to let her live in the honeymoon phase while she can. They haven’t even kissed yet but with the way her green eyes light up at his name, that time isn’t far.
“Do you think he’ll like Raspberry Blush or Strawberry Ripe more?” she asks, holding out two lip glosses which honestly look exactly the same. However, since the strawberry one reminds me of the ice cream I’m craving so bad, I tell her to go with that one.
She’s just about done with her routine when the door opens and the last people I want to see walk in. Nicole’s followed closely by her minions. Their ponytails swish from side to side and their heels click on the tiles as the leader stalks powerfully toward us. I’m reminded of one of those grizzly bears on the National Geographic Channel, ticked off and hungry grizzly bears.
“Well, if it isn’t Prude and Pruder,” she chides as the minions snicker.
I think something along the lines of, “Slut, sluttier, and sluttiest,” but think better of it. She’s angry; she’s probably having withdrawals from all the bullying she’s had to forgo.
“We were just leaving,” Megan stutters and begins collecting the cosmetics that are sprawled all over the counter. Before she manages to do that, Marcy, Nicole’s right hand, takes the tiny perfume bottle Megan always keeps and lets it slip from her fingers. It crashes to the floor and the bottle shatters. The glass vial means a lot to her; her grandparents send her a bottle from France every year on her birthday.
“Oops,” she says, but it would be obvious to a blind man that she’s anything but sorry. Rage starts building up in me as I see my best friend’s bottom lip quivering and my former best friend’s vicious smile.
“Don’t,” I warn as I step in front of Megan. Surprise crosses Nicole’s face for a second before she replaces it with a sneer.
“Or what, Tessie? Will you run to Cole and cry? Are you that thick-headed that you can’t see how tired he is of you? Everyone knows he thought you were an easy lay but obviously he’s not getting any.”
“Stop it, Nicole.”
“Maybe I’m wrong, maybe he is getting laid. Is that why he hasn’t gotten rid of you yet? Have you learned some new tricks?”
“But why would he want to sleep with her?” the other minion, Kenna, spits in her nasally tone. “She’s as attractive as my sixty-year-old housekeeper. Flat chest, gigantic ass, and stumpy legs, yup, she’s just like her.”
My eyes begin to prick but Megan places a soothing hand on my shoulder. I know what she’s saying; she doesn’t want me to react. She’s worried I might do something reckless and get myself into trouble. Cautious, that’s all I ever am, aren’t I?
Blinking away the tears, I straighten my shoulders and look Nicole right in the eye.
“You might want your lapdog to shut up right now.” Once again she’s taken aback. I enjoy seeing the shock on her face; it’s good to know that she doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does.
“Why is that? Are we hurting your feelings?” She chuckles, placing a hand on her hip and refusing to back down.
I smile politely at them, like I’ve been doing for about a week or so now. “Not mine, I couldn’t care less. But see, my mom’s a little protective when it comes to her children and hers might get hurt.”
All three start snickering and look at me like I’m the dirt stuck to the bottom of their designer shoes.
“Is that the best you’ve got? You’re going to tell Mommy, Tessie?” She closes in on me until we’re nose to nose. “Don’t play this game with me, you won’t win.”
“Funny how you brought up winning,” I say, appearing least affected. “My mommy, Nicole, is the chairman of the gala’s committee and that includes the pageant. I hope you haven’t forgotten that.”
Her entire body stiffens at my words and this time I feel like laughing but I hold it back. “So if you try to pull a stunt like this one more time, you can kiss your chances of participating in it good-bye.”
With that I grab Megan by the hand and push past Nicole and her minions. The latter look like they’re about to start foaming at the mouth while their leader just looks . . . stunned. Mission accomplished.
I wait until we’re out of earshot and stop walking. Megan and I look at each other before she starts squealing and jumping up and down.
“That was awesome! Oh My God, Tessa. Did you see her face? I repeat, did you see her face?”
“It looked like she smelled cow dung.” I try to stifle my laughter because of all the curious onlookers but this just feels so good. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins and I want to skip and dance and sing at the top of my lungs, all while shoving as many KitKats as I can down my throat.
We keep laughing all the way to class, where I take my seat next to Cole. He takes one look at me and gives me that half-moon-like smile.
“What’s with you?”
“I just feel awesome.” I shrug and he shakes his head.
“You’re weird.”
“You’re a sick pervert.”
“But you want me.”
“Shut up.”
“See, you’re blushing. You so want me, Tessie.”
“Mr. Stone, Ms. O’Connell, if you two would please stop your shameless flirting, I would like to start class.” The teacher glares at us and I duck my head out of embarrassment. Everyone’s laughing and with the way my desk is shaking, so is Cole.
Chapter Fifteen Part One: He’s Searching My Body Like It’s A Map To Atlantis
I’m going to puke, that’s it. I clutch my stomach which is churning heavily and stare at the pristine floor of Town Hall. To think so much effort has been put into making the floor gleam like Ryan Seacrest’s tee
th saddens me as I’m obviously going to hurl all over it.
“Sit still,” Beth orders but I can’t. I need to be ready to run in case I can’t hold it in anymore. Why would I agree to put myself through this? What possessed me to agree to putting on a pageant gown and parade in front of people who have nothing better to do with their evenings?
Voodoo, that explains it. My mom must have found another pastime now that her book club has ended. Dark magic might possibly be the only reason that I find myself in such a situation. Sitting in front of a large mirror, all I have on is a shocking pink—definitely picked by my mom—robe with Beth hovering over me.
“Look, I get it, you’re nervous, but looking like a Crayola-gangbanged clown won’t help.”
She’s right, of course she is. I should be grateful that it’s her and not her mother, Marie, who’s doing my makeup. Marie owns a small salon in town and has been hired by the planning committee to do the hair and makeup of the contestants. Beth is just as skilled as her mom and so I asked her if she could do it instead. I refuse to let her go near my face with the amount of makeup and hair weaves at her disposal today.
“Do you think I can actually do it?” Apprehension and anxiety are weak words to describe what I’m feeling. This is bad, just really bad, and I’ve got this ominous feeling in my gut telling me I should hitchhike a ride to the middle of nowhere.
She tsks before answering. “As you know, I’m not the biggest fan of beauty pageants. I think it’s demeaning to women to have them make a spectacle of themselves just for the sake of entertainment. Do you think when we were fighting to get the vote, this was the future we had in mind? These competitions are a vain, self-absorbed, demeaning show of how materialistic human nature is . . .”
“Your point, Beth, what is your point?”
“Oh, yeah that. All that being said, I think you’ll kick ass.” She grins at me before squirting foundation onto a sponge and lathering it all over my face. It’s sticky, itchy, and uncomfortable, but apparently if I don’t want to look like a vampire under the spotlights I need to wear it.
There’s a knock on the door and shortly afterward Megan lets herself in. It’s still early in the day so she isn’t wearing her dress yet, just jeans and a T-shirt. She isn’t taking part in the competition but is coming not only to support me but for her first date with Alex. We’re in one of the rooms at Town Hall, which was originally a mansion for a previous mayor, back in the 1800s. Since then it’s been converted into a tourist attraction and a place to host events such as these.
“I just came to make sure she doesn’t turn you into Morticia.” She giggles as she takes a seat at the foot of the bed.
“Oh har har, I swear you guys are tempting me to actually do just that.”
“Please don’t. It’s bad enough I have to do this, I don’t want to horrify the judges.”
She purses her lip in a mock attempt to give me a disapproving glare but it doesn’t hold for too long. She grins at me and pats my shoulder.
“When I’m done with you, you’re not going to horrify, honey, you’ll stun them. You’re gorgeous, even if you don’t know that, and with the right makeup you’re going to take the bitch down.”
Oh, Nicole. This is all about her, beating her, humiliating her, and taking her place.
“I saw her when I was coming up.” Megan adds, “She was shouting at her poor mom. Apparently the back of her dress isn’t backless enough.”
Her dress would be something extreme. If not spectacular, it’d be one to shock. Surprisingly I still haven’t seen my own. Honestly, a part of me is too scared to even imagine what’s inside the box. The Cole I knew before military school would probably have something akin to a gag gift in there. The Cole I know now . . . well, I don’t really know what he’ll do. It’s stupid of me; hours before the pageant starts I haven’t even looked at the only dress I have.
Turns out I’m not the only person who is having these thoughts.
“Speaking of dresses, when are you planning on looking at yours?” Megan asks as the three of us look at the large box resting on the bed. It’s like the thing is a ticking time bomb and the moment we touch it, it’ll blow us to smithereens.
“I don’t want to. Ever,” I admit as both look at me incredulously.
“Then do you have a backup dress? I’m all for being risqué, but going in naked doesn’t seem like the best idea.”
“I don’t need your sarcasm right now, Beth. The problem is that . . .” I don’t really know how to explain it to them. No one understands how big of a deal it is for me to trust Cole. It’s like I know opening the box will cement the relationship we currently have, albeit a very unpredictable one. If it turns out that there’s something like a skimpy bikini or lingerie in there then I’ll know that nothing’s changed. I like to think that it has, I like to think that we’ve come a long way. He’s done so much to prove that he isn’t the same Cole, and I’m so close to not rethinking all his actions.
“You’re being silly, Tessa; he said his mom was with him when he got it. How bad can it be?” I warily eye the mascara wand and hope Beth won’t poke my eye out with it.
“She’s right.” Megan gets up and walks over to where the box is placed. Picking it up, she brings it toward me and settles it on the cluttered dressing table.
“Open it,” she says with determination in her green eyes.
I have no other choice, obviously. If I don’t want to go out in my birthday suit I might as well get this over with. If all else fails, I could try to fashion a dress from the horribly frilly curtains in the room. A Disney Princess, though, I am definitely not.
Sighing heavily, I get to work. The ribbon comes off first and then the wrapping paper. When all I have to do is lift the top off, I hold my breath and do it. The moment I remove the lid, I’m blinded by white light. Megan and Beth gasp at whatever they see but I’m unable to since my hand’s covering my eyes. The light from the chandelier overhead is hitting whatever reflective object is there and I get visions of more disco-ball-like dresses.
“It’s . . . gorgeous, Tessa! Oh My God, open your eyes and look,” Megan squeals and my dread begins to go away. As long as it’s not pink and sparkly I’ll be fine.
My eyes open to find a bedazzling bodice. Gingerly lifting the dress so that I can see it fully, I become momentarily stunned. It takes a long time for my eyes to get used to the shining jewels and when they do, that’s when I fall in love.
It is gorgeous. No, gorgeous would be the understatement of the century. Looking at it, I know the feeling is mutual. It’s like someone’s bottled moonlight and sprinkled it all over this exquisite fabric. A delicate shimmery silver lace covers the sleeveless top half. Like the wings of an exotic bird, it spreads down, curling around the waist. The cinched waist gives way to a silver fitted mermaid-like skirt which flares out toward the bottom. The material ripples beneath my touch and I’m almost afraid that wearing it would destroy the intricate work.
I stand there stunned. I can’t believe that Cole Stone is capable of being so unconditionally thoughtful and kind and . . . amazing.
We gush about it endlessly as I try it on. It fits perfectly and accentuates whatever curves I have and emphasizes my now-thin waist. Fatty Tessie would never have been able to wear something as beautiful as this and I feel euphoric at what I’ve achieved.
Megan leaves since she needs to get dressed. The event coordinator tells us that we have ten minutes before I have to go to the main hall to meet the rest of the contestants and have a dress rehearsal. The thought frightens me as I think about being in enclosed spaces with the kind of girls I know I’ll meet. They’ll all be the kind born and bred to win pageants. Lord knows they’ll faint when they see the state of my nails.
“Go get ’em, tiger.” Beth squeezes my shoulder in support before leaving. In a frightening turn of events, she’s the DJ tonight. I wonder how much Mom had drunk when she hired her. Does she have any idea what kind of music Beth likes to listen to?
I’m not sure it’s the type she’d want the snooty old ladies of our town to hear.
Oh well, I can assure you that Beth wouldn’t let us be bored.
A large dressing room leads to the transformed main hall. I pass it to reach the dual staircases which lead down to it. The hall has been transformed, filled to the brim with stunning flower arrangements.
In the dressing room I’m very much aware of all the girls who I’ll have to compete with. They stop dead in their tracks as I walk in, making me feel extremely uncomfortable.
“Where’d you get that?” a brunette asks harshly as she points toward me. I furrow my brows, confused that most of them are looking at me the same way. They look stunned, shocked, awed, and a bit angry all at once.
“Get what?” I ask meekly, feeling a little overwhelmed.
“That dress, where’d you get it?”
How do I tell them that a boy, whom I have no idea means exactly what to me, bought it for me? I have a feeling that the second I say Cole’s name I’ll be greeted with something akin to the stampede in The Lion King. Right, it’s best if I exhibit my awesome lying skills here.
“I bought it.”
The brunette who’s interrogating me doesn’t buy it. I’ve seen her around school, she’s on the cheerleading squad and isn’t a big fan of Nicole’s. That itself made me respect her but right now she’s seriously freaking me out.
“That’s not possible. The designer hasn’t put it up for sale yet and I would know. I’ve been on the waitlist for weeks and they still aren’t replying.”
She says this in an accusatory tone like it’s my fault I have the dress and she doesn’t. I didn’t know that it was a designer dress that I have on, let alone know that it has a waiting list. Who has a waiting list for dresses?
“I-I . . .” I’m at a loss at what to tell them. It’s not clear what the fuss is about. All of them are wearing gorgeous dresses of their own, though I realize mine looks a lot more expensive. How much had the idiot spent on me?
