Chapter 44
"Are you guys done giggling like teenage girls yet?" Penelope inquired, glaring at us.
Neither of us knew why, but both Zeke and I were acting like two ridiculously happy fools. Maybe it was because we actually accomplished something that was way out of our abilities' comfort zones, or you know, just other things. Trust me, we weren't professionals. At least we pulled it off.
"Stop spreading negativity, Penny," said Zeke, frowning at her while pulling me closer. "It's only like...the fourth act."
"Fine, but I'm going back to my seat and leaving your dress with Cinderella," Penny huffed, turning her back to us. She childishly stomped away, making me cringe. The echo of her footsteps were loud enough to be heard on the other side of the stage. Hopefully, it didn't ruin Karen's song. She was singing her own version of Kiss Me, the one performed by Sixpence None the Richer; it was perfect, her voice was perfect. Penny better not have ruined that.
Within a few minutes, a figure appeared in my line of vision. Unlike what I expected, it wasn't my dear best friend. Instead, I found Charlie holding my dress and shoes. He looked a bit funny holding onto them like my personal assistant. The thought had me suppressing my smile. Zeke snickered beside me and I elbowed him. I didn't know how, but I just knew that Zeke had an idea of what was going on in my head. He just understood, for some reason. Quickly, Zeke stood and then pulled me to stand with him. The cheeky bastard fled the scene before I could even properly scowl at him. He was a bit of a pushover like that. Thanks, I sarcastically snapped at him in my head. Which of course was followed by:
What have you done?
I wanted to yell at Zeke, but couldn't. He was too far away to yell at. So, I just kept my eyes low. I wasn't sure how to talk to Charlie as of yet. I kinda wanted to yell at him too (mostly for being Anna's partner) but at the same time, I didn't want to be a bitch. I didn't wish to be that girl. Nobody likes that girl.
"Cindy was feeling lazy," Charlie explained as soon as I was within hearing range. He smiled half-heartedly at me, though his eyes said something else.
Looking back, I cautiously peeked up at him; his dimples were pressing in. "Oh," I replied.
He handed me my next change of clothes and I gingerly took it from him, careful not to brush his fingers with my own. I knew what dress it was, but only because Mr Brower gave it to all of the candidates. All of them were carbon copies of each other, apart from the sizing. They were all pink and sparkly, all ending close to the knees. The heels were also identical, all white and strappy. The reason for this is because of the Question & Answer portion of the pageant. The school's tradition was to make the participants wear the exact same thing for this bit of the pageant. This way, the clothes didn't distract from the girl's answer--or so that was what they said. This way, her appearace was neither an advantage or a disadvantage. It didn't matter if one girl gave an average answer but had an awesome cocktail dress, or if she had an amazing reply and an unflattering dress; their choice of clothing was completely irelevant. Whoever came up with that idea was utterly brilliant, if I do say so myself.
"Uh, thanks, Charles," I mumbled, too timid to ask him what I was dying to ask.
He scratched the back of his neck, tilting his head to the side. "You did good, El."
"Thanks...I guess."
For the last time, he studied me. And then, he left without another word. At this point, the sixth act was on. The voice in my head was screaming at me to grab Charlie by the shoulder and ask him: Yo, what's up with you? But wouldn't that just be ironic? I was the one who was going to look weird if I did that. I mean, I was weird enough, I didn't need extra weirdness; other people might miss out. Instead, I just acted like a coward and turned the other way. Maybe I'd ask him later, after I finish with the change rooms?
Stupid mixed signals making me misread everything.
Oh, wait. I forgot I like to assuming things too.
Why do I even do that?
I sighed, putting the new pair of shoes on. More thoughts floated around in my mind as I tried to keep myself from tripping. To be honest, it was only in the quiet confines of a boxy room that one can criticise themselves this meticulously. Often times, being in my own company was a bit too much. It was easy to drown yourself with nasty, hurtful thoughts when you're alone. We are our biggest critcs and sometimes the worst opinions that we receive are our own. It scared me how mean I could be to myself sometimes.
Well, maybe he doesn't like me like that.
What if I don't like him like that?
But you do, that logical voice in my brain intervened.
And maybe I shouldn't.
Once I got back out, I immediately spotted Cindy chatting animatedly with a bunch of other pageant girls. However, when she saw me, her carefree smile was replaced by a concerned look on her face--which she efficiently tried to hide. As we slowly approached one another, I waved at her. Upon meeting in the middle, Cindy explained that she wanted to retouch my makeup. She led us to the makeup station, telling me all sorts of things about my parents' Support Eli methods, Penny's cheerbots, my skin's makeup curfew, and how she successfully persuaded her boyfriend, Ethan, to watch the next season of The Vampire Diaries with her. I paid attetion, but only enough to comprehend. It was kind of hard to listen when your thoughts were elsewhere. No matter, I was practicing my multitasking skills. Ocassionally, I would nod, but apparently not enough to convince her that I was all there.
"Okay, just stop. Stop it now, Elouise. It's almost painful to watch you talk yourself out of something you're scared of over and over again," Cindy ranted, and my eyes bugged out. "I'm your best friend and I know you better than anyone. You're falling into this pattern again."
"What do you mean?" I asked, completely baffled by her sudden outburst.
"Well, remember Felix?"
I nodded, keeping quiet. Why was she bringing this up?
"When you broke up, you did this too. You trick your brain into believing that you don't feel anything."
"But...that's just me--how I react to most things! I can't help that I do that," I replied, remembering all of the suppressed sadness I had. I didn't feel as empty anymore, but it was still a touchy subject, especially now, when everything was resurfacing. It made me melancholy.
Cindy sighed, grey eyes as calculating as ever. Her smile was sad--pitying, and it was directed at me. Very gently, she reached for my hand. "Now, I know this might sound totally fit for a soap opera, but...Eli, you're living in a constant blunder. I'm not just going to sit back and watch you hurt yourself or anybody in the process. It's better if you let some things be," she said with a more encouraging smile. "You can't lie to yourself forever--it's not normal."
"Neither am I," I joked, finally returning her smile. I was glad that Cindy was my best friend. Anyone would be lucky to have this girl in their life. I'd known her for so long and she knew me so horrifically well. Nobody could ever replace her--not even her brother.
"Okay, I can agree with that. Now c'mon, say it!" Cindy urged giddily, grinning at me like a psycho. She kind of looked maniacal, staring at me in the most expectant of ways.
Slow as I was, I couldn't comprehend what she was saying. My brows knitted together in confusion, and I asked, "Wait, what?"
"ELOUISE MAREE WALTON, SAY IT."
"It," I replied with a smile and a quiet laugh. My celebration was cut short, though. "Cindy, that hurt!"
She hit my arm as I was laughing--classic Cindy trying to ruin my happiness. Although, I could honestly tell you that she was definitely stronger than she looked. Now that was for damn sure.
"Don't go all smarty pants on me, missy. Would you rather I say it? You know me, right? I say some things much louder than necessary. Much louder," Cindy threatened, emphasising any key terms. Of course, I just willingly took the bait. There was no getting out of these situations.
I am such a wimp, I thought. "Fine, I won't do it again."
"And..?" she quipped immediately, but then she paused. "El, just sayin', but we haven't got all night--act ten's nearly over."
I sighed, exaggerating every second of it. I mean, who would want to admit something that they were seriously denying? "Imayhavethetiniestcrushonyourbrotherwhoisalsoatotalhooligan."
"Come again?"
"I may have the tiniest crush on your brother, who is a total hooligan, by the way."
"Oh good! I almost thought you're unaware that he's an idiot. Obviously, you know everything--full disclosure and all--but even then you're taking him. How sweet," she murmured, a dreamy smile plastered on her small lips.
But he won't have me.
"Eli, have a little faith in yourself," Cindy sighed, patting my shoulder harder than necessary. "And, yes, you said that out loud."
~
I've always had this unexplainable hate towards Q&A's. Be it the sudden pressure, or the super fast mental search party you conduct in your head, but they're honestly just reasons to make me like this portion even less. They give you no wiggle room, to be honest; you can't practice the questions, or have that much time to think. There's so many people too! How can one even think straight at a time like that? I'd probably passout if I tried hard enough.
The ten of us were lined up alphabetically at one of the covered side stage entraces. The strappy heels were bothering me, so I bent down awkwardly, trying to adjust them. Of course, that was when Mr Brower said, "Let's once again welcome all of our lovely candidates!"
Like, are you kidding me?
So I didn't bother with my shoes. And I wobbled a little until I'm upright. One by one, we flocked to the stage and smiled our generic pageant smiles. My jaw hurt a bit from doing so, it required a lot of effort to keep the smile up. Five seconds in, my smile was already shaky and a few moments from wavering completely. It mirrored how I felt right now. I was trembling like I had hypothermia, but only on the inside.
"Let's start from the end of the line, shall we?" Mr Brower announced, trying for charm. With a short paused, he stated my name. "Please step forward, Elouise Maree Walton!"
I glided across the stage, and was surprised with my own sudden gracefulness. I swayed my hips and moved my shoulders slightly, in-sync with my whole body's movements. People applauded as I stood beside our principal, my heart pounding in my chest. I made sure to smile over at the judges, and maintain eye contact. Penny said it gets you cheap pageant points.
"Good evening, Ms Walton, how are you feeling?" Brower said, and then he hovered the mic in front of me.
"Exhilerated--super pumped," I replied, forgetting to use formal pleasantries. I didn't even say 'good evening' back. Whoops.
"Very well," he said with a nod.
Ms Queen entered the stage then, holding a clear, sphere-shaped container. Inside, pieces of paper were folded in two. The judges' names or numbers were probably written on them, that much I guessed. Mr Brower gave me a slight nod, his eyes telling me to pick one. I went and reached for one, the sound of my own breathing making me a tad deaf. Without further ado, I gave my chosen piece of paper to Mr Brower. Then, I politely grinned and faced back at the judges.
"Judge Number 3, Mrs Bass." Oh, the librarian.
Cue applause.
"Thank you," Mrs Bass spoke, her voice kind. "Well, I'll just get on with it."
I nodded my head once, acknowledging her statement. In truth, I was simply trying to keep it together.
Mrs Bass cleared her throat, the corners of her mouth gently lifting upwards. "When the words, 'Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all,' what major issue comes to your mind? How can you relate this to daily life? Is there a way to bounce back from it?"
Oh, crud. Why did I have to get a 'deep' question?
"Well, first, I think about the movie, Snow White. But mostly, I think about the Evil Queen." I paused for a second and the crowd laughed. "Her insecurity knows no bounds, and I feel sorry for her. It's the same with the ever-growing body image issue that we have today--not that the media does anything to help stop this way of thinking. It's no different than looking at your reflection and asking, 'Why do I look like this? Why am I ugly?'," I said, the seriousness in my voice was prominent. And then, I kept going--I had to. It wasn't just for the pageant now; I needed to hear this too. "Everyday, we see people who we think are way more beautiful than ourselves; it's natural, it happens. It's also a daily struggle--trying to get by each day not getting depressed because what we appear doesn't quite sum up to the one we had hoped for. Truth be told, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I'm not even trying to be cheesy. If you think you're good enough, it's not wrong or vain to say that you are." I breathed in, another pause. "And, you know what? Maybe I'm not one to talk. I criticise myself, point out my flaws, and compare myself to my gorgeous, blonde twin. But every once in a while, I think about how priveledged I am. Because, yes, maybe I'm not the fairest of them all. Nor am I the skinniest; not at all the wittiest--I don't even know if that's a word. But I'm happy, and no one can change that. In a world like this, sometimes being content is all you need to bounce back."
You know, I thought they'd all be clapping at my insta-answer. Personally, I thought it was a decent reply to conjure in a short amount of thinking time. It wasn't. Instead, my response was met by silence, hear-a-pin-drop silence. My triumphant smile faltered a little, and I wanted to shrink. Did I say something wrong? Was my reply too long? Maybe I just imagined that I answered, but I actually hadn't in reality? (I do that with texts sometimes.)
But before I know it, one person started to clap and everybody else followed. They clapped hard and long, it almost sounded like thunder. Immediately, I released a sigh of relief and I was overcome with happiness. Even Mr Brower was looking at me with pride in his eyes. It was ethereal, and quite liberating.
Once I was dismissed, I walked back to my initial spot feeling immensely pleased with my efforts.
* * *
I'm sooooo tired. Year 11 is gradually killing me. ):
I'm really sorry I can't update more frequently. I love writing, and of course, all of you, but school is my priority. Thank you for bearing with me, though. I hope you keep on doing so, it would mean the world to me!
Anyway, I'll keep this short. I'm about to fall asleep.
Eli's Q&A "uniform" is on the multimedia (ignore the fur coat, even though it is a nice touch to the look). No proper Multimedia Weekly today, sorry for that too.
Dedicated to @rockierock for being an awesome reader! Thank you for the support you've given to MBFB! :>
Please don't forget to VOTE, COMMENT, and/or SHARE! c:
Keep being awesome!
J~