A/N: this is the rewrite, hence the weird chapter name, if you'd like to read the old story just skip ahead. But these rewritten chapters are a good testament to where I'm at now with my writing and I would love to share with you all. Also this chapter wasn't supposed to come out until later this year...but I couldn't help it! I had to share I have been so excited about it. Please enjoy. This story will be a lot different than the original, but shared the same plot and many of the same lovely characters. Much love to you all ❤️❤️❤️
When Camila was just four years old, she was entered into her first beauty pageant. Her mother, Sinuhe, had just moved the young girl from Cuba to Miami, Florida in the hopes for a better life. She tried in every way to adjust Camila to the new environment; early preschool, girl scouts, she even joined a "Mothers of Miami" club so Camila could socialize more. Yet, Camila was painfully shy. She would play by herself during recess, sit at her own crafting table during scout meetings, and refused to go to the M.O.M. gatherings. Sinuhe was lost and unsure of what to do. All she wanted for her daughter was a fulfilling life with many friends and self-confidence.
It was when Sinuhe was about to give up when she saw a flyer. She was working a double at her second job at Biggy Bob's Diner when a bright, neon pink piece of paper taped to the counter caught her eye.
'Little Princess Pageant; for ages two to twelve! Does your little girl have talent? Then sign her up for the chance to win $1,000, a Little Princess tiara, and a three-foot tall trophy!'
Below the text was the address of the theater the pageant was held at and a phone number. Before she could get yelled at, Sinuhe wrote down the information and stuffed the slip of paper into her back pocket.
That weekend, Sinuhe went to the thrift store with Camila and let the young brunette pick out a dress. Camila was entranced by the smooth silks, the poofy skirts, and the shimmering prom dresses. She spent an hour pulling out every dress, even the ones too big for her in the women's section, trying to find the perfect one. Sinuhe smiled with relief as Camila seemed to become more and more excited about the pageant.
After the hour-long search, Camila pulled out the last dress on the rack. The garment was a baby blue dress with a silk bodice and faux diamonds splayed out on the bottom, fading upwards into nothing but blue silk. The skirt was made of white and baby blue tulle that haphazardly spread out in every direction. The sleeves were made of the same blue, as well, and stopped just before the elbow and had the same fake diamonds attached. Instantly, Camila's eyes lit up with joy. She ran up to her mother and presented the dress to Sinuhe. With tired but satisfied eyes and a small smile on her face, Sinuhe purchased the dress.
The days leading up to the pageant, Camila practiced her talent, singing, over and over again. She wanted to wow the judges, so she chose Respect by Aretha Franklin. Camila performed her song everywhere, from her classroom for her classmates to Biggy Bob's Diner for Sinuhe's work friends. Sinuhe was quickly seeing Camila grow from a caterpillar stuck in her cocoon to a beautiful, free butterfly that strived for the spotlight. The hard-working mother couldn't be happier.
On the day of the pageant, Sinuhe asked her coworkers to help with Camila's hair and makeup. So, all packed in Sinuhe's minivan, the team of women (and Camila) made their way to Sunrise and Shine Theatre. Backstage at the pageant, Camila sat patiently in her chair while the women worked on making her look as stage-ready as possible. They packed blush on her cheeks and glitter on her eyes, even pulling her hair up and adding extensions to volumize. By the end of it, Camila was loaded up with makeup, hair, and nervous energy. Yet, she wasn't deathly afraid of being around so many people, nor was she scared of performing in front of them.
For once, she was afraid of something different; she was afraid of losing the pageant.
Camila happily chatted with her competition, all four to six years old and heavily fake-tanned and hair-sprayed. She even received some tips from the older girls, who mostly told her to just be confident and smile pretty. By the time it was time to get on stage, with words of encouragement and some glares from the obviously jealous girls, Camila (and Sinuhe) was more than certain she had it in the bag.
That night, the Cabello girls and team walked away with a thousand dollars to their name and a plan for the next pageant Camila was going to win.
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Pressing some foundation into her cheeks with a sponge, Camila sighed heavily. It was four in the morning, a lot earlier than most people her age would be up by. Other seventeen-year-olds were sound asleep and couldn't even imagine waking up that early. They would much rather stay in bed all day. Although, most seventeen-year-olds weren't beauty pageant queens like Camila.
Ever since her first pageant, Camila had entered every pageant she was eligible for. After thirteen years, Camila had entered over a hundred pageants and won eighty of them. She had a whole wall of her room dedicated to her (and her mother's) hobby. The wall was littered with ribbons, medals, and three large bookcases that housed all of her trophies. Every morning, the brunette would wake up and right in front of her was all of her successes. Sinuhe claimed it was the best way to wake up; with confidence and determination.
So, that morning, Camila was getting ready for another pageant. This time, it was one outside of the city that she somehow was eligible for. She wasn't quite sure what strings Sinuhe had pulled, but they must have been yanked because the pageant rules had been changed quickly after a few phone calls made by Miss Sinuhe. While Camila's mother wasn't exactly like most pageant mothers, which was a little cuckoo mixed with painkillers and energy drinks, she also wasn't someone anyone wanted to cross. She knew how to get what she wanted, and for Camila, she would do anything.
As Camila covered up her dark under-eyes with some concealer, she tried to envision herself winning the pageant. It had been a while since she had entered into one, as school was in session. With summer just a few months away, though, and prom just before that, pageant season was also knocking at the door. A weight filled up Camila's chest then, like her lungs were filling up with water. She gently put down her makeup sponge, then gripped the edge of her vanity, her eyes slipped close.
Calm down, Camila, it's going to be okay, the young woman thought to herself as she took some deep breaths. It doesn't matter if you win this pageant or not.
Or at least Sinuhe made it seem like it didn't matter. In actuality, after the past pageants Camila had lost her mother wasn't always enjoyable to be around. It wasn't that Sinuhe exactly got mad at Camila, she just tended to give her the cold shoulder and act disappointed. Which was somehow worse than anger. Camila thought she could maybe handle her mother being a crazy pageant mom who yelled and threw tantrums. But the silence that filled the car after receiving a second or third place trophy along with the soft sighs made Camila's heart sink. She felt like she could do nothing right after that, no matter how hard she tried.
Camila pressed her forehead against the cool marble top of her vanity. She took a few more breaths before finally lifting her head. A thin, red indent went across her forehead, much like a headband. Camila groaned and tried to cover it with a bit more foundation, hoping that she hadn't pressed hard enough to bruise. Under stage lights, she was sure the judges would see every single imperfection, down to the pimple forming just below the skin on her chin.
"Camila!"
The young woman turned her attention to her open door. She frowned as she wondered why her mother was already calling her down. She turned her gaze to the clock and realized she had spent thirty minutes on her foundation alone. If Camila wanted to be on time for this pageant, she would have to do the rest of her makeup in the car.
"Damnit, Mila," she mumbled to herself. Why did she take so long to calm down from her stupid, mini panic attack? Why did Camila even have the attack in the first place? What did she have to worry about?
"Camila!!!" Sinuhe called once more, only louder and more irritated than before.
"Coming!" Camila cried back as she shoved her makeup items into a bag. She stood up and grabbed her dress, one that looked almost like the first dress she ever wore for a pageant. Only, instead of silk, the dress was made of beautiful blue lace. It hugged her body a lot better than her first dress, without all of the annoying and itchy tulle. But, the sparkly diamonds and long sleeves made Camila reminsce for a moment as she stared down at it.
Back then, Camila enjoyed what she was doing. She loved getting all dressed up for the stage. She loved having her hair and makeup done. She couldn't think of a better event than a beauty pageant. Now, though? Camila dreaded when her alarm clock would go off the morning of a pageant. She hated the spa facials and tea detoxes the days prior. There was nothing she hated more than the piles of makeup and fake hair she had to wear in order to look decent enough for the judges. Camila constantly felt like she was under a microscope, whether she was in front of judges' panel or at home. Her mother was constantly telling her to eat less carbs and drink more water. To stop pulling the skin near her eyes. To practice her singing just a few hours more.
Camila sighed as she clutched the lacy dress to her chest. With her makeup bag in one hand and the dress in her arm, Camila walked down the stairs to her waiting mother. The dark liquid feeling from before settled down in her stomach as she followed Sinuhe out to the car.
She couldn't wait for the pageant to be over.
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Lauren groaned as her alarm clock went off at four in the morning, signaling it was time to get ready for a hellish morning. She waved her arm around for a moment as she blindly searched for the stupid clock on her nightstand. Her hand finally pounded down the 'stop alarm' button before she pulled the blanket further up her body and tucked it underneath her chin. Her sock-covered feet poked out of the bottom of the too-small comforter. Sleep was just drifting into Lauren's vision when, suddenly, a tiny body landed on her.
"Oof," Lauren groaned as she sat up and the child slipped off her. A soft, girly giggle sounded from the darkness. Lauren sighed as she rubbed her (most likely) bruised stomach and finally woke herself up. "Kristy, was that necessary?"
Kristy, Lauren's little sister, giggled again before she scampered off the bed through the wide open door. Lauren made a mental note to lock her door in the morning before she slipped off her comfortable mattress. She stretched, then shuffled through the door and towards the lit hallway. When she got out of her room, Lauren could hear the soft snores of her mother sleeping and the laughter of Kristy. The door to Kristy's room was wide open, but Lauren was happy to see that her sister had at least left Brandon, her baby brother, alone. Usually, once Kristy was awake, the whole house had to be awake, as well. She slowly opened up the door and peeked in. Brandon was sound asleep in his crib, snoring softly. Lauren smiled before she shut the door and walked towards the staircase. She could hear Kristy as she talked to herself in the kitchen, but Lauren couldn't exactly make out what the chatter was.
Lauren made her way towards the kitchen, groaning once again when she saw pancake mix and milk spilled on the table.
"Kristina!" Lauren said sternly as she grabbed the paper towels out of Kristy's chubby hands. She quickly wiped down the mess as her little sister pouted in the corner.
"I just wanted pancakes," Kristy whined.
Lauren threw away the soiled paper towels, the shook her head. "You know you're not allowed to make things in the kitchen by yourself. It's not your job, now is it?" she asked gently as she put away the pancake mix and milk jug. "Anyways, we've had pancakes every single day for the past week now. Don't you think we deserve something different for breakfast? What about some eggs and sausage?"
Kristy whined again, but knew she wasn't going to win this argument. "Fine. But I want apple juice. I hate orange juice," she replied as she sat down at the table. She looked tiny next to it without her booster seat, but Lauren only mused this cute fact in her mind. Kristy hated being small and young, even though she was just seven years old. She couldn't wait to be a grown up and gave people hell when they reminded her she wasn't quite there yet.
"Kristy, hate is a strong word. Also, you had orange juice a few days ago. What changed since then?" Lauren asked as she pulled out a carton of eggs, a stick of butter, and the sausage links. She tried her best to make the family eat healthy, but with Kristy being quite independent, it wasn't always the easiest. She got her way a little too much when it came to their mom.
"Well, Lauren, I decided I am no longer a fan of orange juice. It makes my teeth tingle," Kristy replied with a faux British accent, quite like she was answering an important interview question.
With a roll of her eyes, Lauren cracked a few eggs into a butter-covered frying pan. She scrambled them up, then served them up on a big plate. Within ten minutes, breakfast was made and Kristy was happily eating it, apple juice and all. Lauren had just made up her own plate when she heard a cry from upstairs. She sighed as she placed the plate in front of her spot at the table.
"Kristy, I'm going to grab Brandon. If you want more food, it's on the big plate on the counter. Please don't eat mine," Lauren asked nicely, knowing full well when she came back down her food was going to be missing, as well as the culprit. Lauren left the kitchen and ran back upstairs, weaving her way past a few toys Kristy must have pulled out that morning. She made it to Brandon's room without any casualities and opened the door. When she turned on the light, the one year old boy was standing in his crib, his tiny hands gripped onto the side. Tears were still falling down his cheeks, but there was a little smile on his face. Dimples dipped into his wet cheeks, causing Lauren to smile. She loved her little brother, loved both of her siblings actually. They were her pride and joy, even though she wasn't the one to have them. She walked over to the crib and swooped up Brandon, cradling him in her arms.
"Hello, Bubba! What's going on? What's with all the crying?" Lauren mused as she wiped the tears off Brandon's face. He just cooed sweetly as she brought him over to the changing table and quickly got rid of his soiled diaper. With a now happy, giggling baby on her hip, Lauren went back downstairs to her empty breakfast plate and Kristy watching Caillou in the living room. Lauren rolled her eyes and set Brandon in his highchair. He pat his hands on the serving tray, practically demanding his breakfast. Lauren smiled as she grabbed some scrambled eggs for him to start on while she cut up the sausage into smaller bites.
"Hey, Kristy," Lauren called, peering around the corner of the doorway separating the kitchen and the living room. "Where exactly did my breakfast go?"
She could see Kristy's little shoulders bob up and down before a young, horrible British accent voiced back, "I'm not sure. Must have been the dog."
Lauren sighed and shook her head as she turned away from the living room and placed the sausage pieces onto Brandon's high chair. She knew that Kristy knew the dog wasn't able to get up onto the table, as he was a five-pound chihuahua the size of a kitten, but she let it slide. Along with the annoying, fake accent that Kristy used to 'sound more adult'.
With a new plate of food and Brandon chomping away noisily at his sausage, Lauren sat down and enjoyed her breakfast. It was one of the rare moments Lauren had where everything was settled down. She could just relax for a moment and be herself.
It was almost a year ago that Lauren's life had been turned around. She was sixteen at the time, just a few days from seventeen when a storm had come over Miami. It wasn't an unusual event for there to be a rainstorm in Florida, it happened all the time. But with blasting winds and rough rain, it was the worst kind of storm to be stuck in while in a car. A few trees had fallen into the roads and power lines were down in multiple neighborhoods. Lauren's family had probably picked the worst time to come back home from their trip to Georgia. Barely anyone could see outside the windows, and Lauren was terrified they wouldn't make it home. Her mother was pregnant, her father was frustrated, and her siblings were scared. Chris and Taylor were behind her father's side of the car, trying their best to calm down their mom and Lauren. Lauren was curled up in the backseat on her mother's side with Kristy's head in her lap. The young girl was crying as she buried her face into Lauren's thigh.
With the rain pelting against their windshield and the wind smearing it across, there was no way that her father could have seen the truck that somehow turned at the wrong part of the road. It hit the driver's side head-on and sent the family's car spiraling. They flipped a few times before smashing into a line of trees. Lauren could barely remember anything after that, only hospital visits and a big funeral. Chris, Taylor, and their father was dead. Clara, Lauren's mother, was heartbroken. She almost lost Brandon, who she prematurely gave birth to, and could have lost Kristy if she hadn't been buckled up. Lauren tried her best to be there for Clara, but instantly the woman resided into herself. She fell into a deep, dark depression that caused her to leave her job and spend her time in her bedroom.
The only times Lauren felt at peace with herself were these moments. When she could just enjoy the soft sounds of Brandon and Kristy playing or eating or watching television. The noise prevented her from remembering the sound of shattering glass and cold rain pounding against her face. It was a lovely distraction from the life she wished she didn't live.
Lauren sighed when her peace was then broken by Brandon suddenly crying. She finished up her food quickly, then swooped the baby up to place him in his playpen in the living room.
"Kristy, please watch your brother for a few moments, will you?" Lauren asked nicely before she went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess. As the young woman washed the dishes, she listened for any disturbance in the room next door. It was moments like these that Lauren wished her mother hadn't become so depressed. She wished that Clara was there to raise Brandon and Kristy, so maybe Lauren could be a proper senior. She wished, more than anything, that she could speak up and say something. Could get her mother out of the bedroom and into Brandon and Kristy's lives. Lauren had big dreams that she couldn't accomplish if she was raising her siblings by herself. She wanted to someday be a journalist and write articles for the New York Times and popular magazines.
It wasn't just that, though, that held Lauren back. She couldn't exactly be a journalist if she couldn't speak. After the car accident, Lauren had become mute to almost everyone outside her front door. When she did speak, every word was stuttered and fractured. She couldn't get out a complete sentence without pausing and stammering. How was she ever going to get an internship or hold an interview if she couldn't even read off her order to a McDonald's employee?
Lauren put away the dishes and tried her best to think of something else. Anything else other than the life that had been handed to her. The paper due in her AP English class or the art piece she was working on at the community college. Anything other than what caused her to lean against the counter as she tried her best to keep tears at bay. She didn't want to cry, really couldn't cry, in front of her siblings. She wiped away the moisture that formed in the corners of her green eyes and walked to the living room.
"Alright, brat. Time to get ready for school," Lauren stated as she turned off the television. Kristy started to complain, but Lauren just gave her a look. "I have to get Brandon ready for Ms. Lindsey's, so you have to be a big girl for me and get yourself ready. Can you do that?"
Kristy brightened up at this and nodded. "Yes, I can do that," she said in her real voice before she stomped her way upstairs. When she slammed her bedroom door, Lauren flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. She hoped, without really any backing, that Clara hadn't woke up at that. But, within just a few seconds, Clara called for Lauren to come upstairs. Lauren sighed, grabbed Brandon, and willed silently that maybe the cutest baby around could possibly make Clara a bit more pleasant.
"Lauren," Clara murmured as the young woman opened the door. "Please, baby, watch the kids for me. They can't be too loud, Mommy needs to sleep."
Even though Clara couldn't see her daughter, as her back was away from the door, Lauren nodded as she walked out. She shut her mom's door quietly, then walked over to Brandon's room to get him changed. As Lauren got her siblings all ready for the day and settled into Ms. Lindsey's car, she wished to a God that she didn't believe in that maybe, just maybe, something good would happen to her soon.