Dear Diary, I'm Completely Lost

Envious Much?

I avoid Jackson as much as I can. I really don’t want to discuss our term paper any sooner than that Wednesday after the holidays, like we agreed on. At least he doesn’t try to get my number anymore.

I’m almost glad when Saturday finally arrives. Except it makes me kind of nervous. I have to be at the Fall Festival at three o’clock, for rehearsal. Yeah, they’re making us walk, so no one falls down the stage later, when s**t goes real.

I can’t believe I postponed writing my essay for this. I still don’t have a single word written for that competition and it’s due in two weeks! It’s okay, Perrie, you’ll write it after the holidays. I can barely wait until this is all over. I just hope Cassie doesn’t win this year. Even if I don’t get the crown, I want to see it on any other girl’s head except for hers.

I want her to stop being so smug about everything, because she’s not the fairest and brightest of them all. No matter how badly she wants to be. I really hate people who feel the need to expose themselves and be in the spotlight all the damn time.

I get such a beautiful text from Hunter when we’re driving to the Festival. Dad changed his shift to be able to see me ‘rock’, like he put it when I told him about the beauty pageant. Anyway, my boyfriend wishes me luck and tells me I’m his winner, even if the judges don’t see me as theirs.

I can’t help but smile at the line of emojis that he adds next to them. Kisses and hearts. He’s not an avid emoji user, so this speaks volumes for me. I text him back, already hitting send, when I get another message. This time from my brother.

Kick ass, lil sis, the text says, making my smile even wider. I notice my best friend smiling on the seat next to me. I glance at her, only to have her wink at me. Ah. I should’ve known this was her work. Neither of them knew at what time I have to be at the festival.

I’m getting nervous the closer to the area we get. Luckily for us it’s so early that the parking lot is half empty. We get to park our car closer to the entrance, so we don’t have to carry my dress and everything my mom packed across the whole festival.

Yeah, my mom exaggerated again. She’ll be doing my hair and makeup in the time that we have between rehearsal and the real deal. But she took her whole suitcase with us, like I’m competing for Miss Universe.

I mean, I appreciate the thought, but it makes me even more nervous. I’m not sure why I’m doing this anymore. Am I really here just to get revenge? Am I really so petty?

Suddenly, I stop in my tracks and start walking back towards the car. “Perrie, where are you going?” my dad calls after me.

“Home! This is ridiculous!” I shout back, trying to quicken my step but for an unknown reason, I came here in my heels I’m stumbling like an i***t. I have no idea how they expect me to walk like supermodels in these. I’m no supermodel!

I hear footsteps behind me. I expect it to be my mom, but it’s not. My best friend catches me with a firm grip and spins me right back into the lane, making me stomp beside her defeatedly.

“Remember why you’re here. This is for you, Pez. You’re taking control of your life, instead of letting her walk all over you, every chance she gets,” she murmurs, staring at our moving feet. Probably to ensure that my parents don’t realize she’s telling me anything.

I draw in a sharp breath. I don’t know what to say to her words. Because when she puts it that way … I have no other excuse left. Because she’s right. This is me, controlling my own life instead of giving her free hands to do whatever she wants with me.

Yeah. I’ll give her a taste of her own medicine, alright. Maybe she’ll quit trying to mess with me then. If this is her way of trying to get Aiden back, she sure has a funny way of winning people over.

Once we get to the Miss Fallen Leaves tent, we are greeted by one of the judges. A middle-aged woman who, apparently, knows my mom. They start chit-chatting like old friends as she leads us backstage.

“Okay, your space is here. The rehearsal is in twenty. After that, you have about two hours before the show starts. I suggest you don’t get too far away from the tent. And change your shoes. Trust me. You’ll want to feel your feet for the big debut,” the woman informs me in a friendly way, then leaves us be.

We occupy the tiny space I was assigned to, hanging up the dress, which stays hidden inside the protective bag. My mom puts the suitcase next to the vanity table, then smiles brightly.

“I can’t wait to see you up there,” she says, seeming much more excited about this than I am. I smile in return, not knowing what to say. Actually, I’m about to come up with some appropriate words, when I get interrupted by someone.

“Rose? What are you guys doing here?” a familiar voice comes from somewhere behind us. My mom looks over my shoulder, walking over to the person happily.

“Hey, stranger. Our Perrie signed up for the contest, isn’t that wonderful?” she says to Mrs. Wagner, who I spot the moment I turn around. Beside her is her youngest, Lucas and her husband. And the person who just looked up from typing frantically on her phone, freezes at sight of me.

Mrs. Wagner doesn’t know what to say to my mom’s revelation, while Cassie stands there, her face falling as she realizes I came here for the same thing she did. The crown. My lips curl up against my will.

Damn, Leslie was right. This does feel oddly satisfying. I go as far to do a little wave, making her clench her jaw. When her mom turns around, she forces a smile on her face, then walks past her family and us, straight to a spot that seems like it’s reserved especially for her.

Mrs. Wagner doesn’t know what to say in response, so she changes the subject and talks to my mom, while the rest of her family joins Cassie. I turn towards my dad, who’s watching me with a knowing gaze. My face falls. Uh-oh. Busted.

He steps a little closer, so my mom can’t hear us. “Is this why you applied for this competition, Perrie?” he wants to know, making me panic. Leslie pretends to be observing the ceiling of the tent, while I don’t know how to get myself out of this.

“No,” I tell him determinedly, earning myself a sigh in response. He stares at me a moment longer, then moves away.

“I’m taking you for your word. No funny business,” he warns me, making me raise my eyebrows in response. Funny business? What? Does he think I came here to sabotage Cassie, so she wouldn’t win, or not?

“I assure you, dad, all I’m here for is the crown. I’m all about fair play,” I assure him, making him nod shortly. He can’t do much else, because my mom is already coming back and Mrs. Wagner is walking away, looking a little confused.

Mom doesn’t say a thing, and I’m grateful she doesn’t. But I can tell that the same thing that dad just mentioned is going through her head. I see it by the way she’s looking at me. Well, what can I say? At least they can’t complain they don’t know their own kid. I’m an open book.

Okay, still, I didn’t come here to sabotage Cassie. I’m not that big of a b***h. I’d never stoop so low. That’s her level, not mine.

Before I know it, the twenty minutes are up and we’re being rounded up for entering the stage. I take a deep breath, squeezing my stomach to have a better balance. That’s what my mom taught me. Just walk, Perrie. Just walk. One foot in front of the other, like a damn Victoria’s Secret Angel.

I’m surprised by myself, because I manage to pose in the end and not stumble while doing it. When I get off stage, I’m smiling. I go off the moment Cassie steps on it, a sour expression covering her face as she realizes I actually pulled this off perfectly.

But I don’t care about her pathetic little games anymore. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but it was a thrill. Huh. Who would’ve thought beauty pageants could give you such an adrenaline rush?

My parents are finally convinced that I’m here for me, because they can see it on my face. I mean, I can’t hide it. I feel amazing. Invincible, even. My best friend is all here for it, because she’s holding her hands together in front of her face, beaming with pride.

We decide to celebrate my first ever runway walk with some hot apple cider. We leave all our stuff there, because there’s a security guard watching the backstage area for us. And I change my heels for sneakers, like that woman advised.

We don’t go far and we don’t take long. Maybe half an hour, give or take a few minutes. But when we get back to my assigned area, I notice something’s different. There’s a gigantic dark red stain, covering the protective bag that is covering the dress. “No,” I breathe out.