“Your mom?” I open the fridge and wedge the container between a carton of milk and jug of orange juice. “I’ve never even met your mom.”
“Well, you’re like her favorite person ever because of this stupid pageant, so I hope you’re pleased with yourself.” She plops down into my mom’s seat at the kitchen table. Hannah’s the type of person who can be comfortable in anyone’s home, I think. There’s none of that extra care most people have when they’re in a new place for the first time. She leans forward on the table with both elbows. “You can’t quit the pag— Wait, are you listening to Dolly Parton?”
I shrug.
She glances up at me, and takes note of my current state. “There is so much wrong with this picture.”
I pour a cold cup of coffee and pop it in the microwave. “I guess if by wrong, you mean right, then yeah.”
“When’s the last time you showered?”
The microwave dings. “Showers are so subjective.” I shrug. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Only if you turn off that horrible music.”
Upstairs, I pick the needle up from the record as Hannah spreads out on my bed. She takes the Magic 8 Ball from my nightstand and shakes it. “Has Will lost her shit totally?” She reads the answer. “You may rely on it.”
I sit down at the foot of the bed and lay across the length of it on my back. Maybe this will be easier if I can stare at the ceiling the whole time.
“Okay, so something happened with Bathroom Boy, I’m guessing?”
“Boys. There were two. And I don’t even know why I wanted to do this in the first place.” I stretch my arms out and let them hang off the edge of the bed. “Maybe I thought I deserved all the same things all those other girls do. I don’t know? But I’m different from other girls, and even if I do deserve the same things they do, that doesn’t mean I’ll get them. Me getting up there and competing against them would only prove that.”
“Nope,” says Hannah. “I call bullshit. You don’t deserve to win anything or be in any pageant until you make the effort and do the work. Maybe fat girls or girls with limps or girls with big teeth don’t usually win beauty pageants. Maybe that’s not the norm. But the only way to change that is to be present. We can’t expect the same things these other girls do until we demand it. Because no one’s lining up to give us shit, Will.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I walk into a room and the first thing anyone notices is how fucking huge I am in comparison. But for you, all you have to do is keep your mouth shut, and no one knows the difference.”
“Whoa,” she says. “Low blow. Yeah, I can keep my mouth shut. Until I have something to say. You try being the half Dominican lesbian with buckteeth in this town, okay?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess and—”
“And you’re projecting whatever. This is still bullshit. If you’re not going to do this for you, do it for Amanda and Millie.” She chews her lip and stares past me into the mirror in front of my bed. “And me too, I guess.”
“You guys’ll be fine without me.”
“No, actually, we won’t. Millie can’t compete unless you do.”
I sit up. “What are you talking about?”
“Her parents found out about the pageant,” she says with nonchalance. “Millie begged and begged. She told them about how your mom runs the thing, so they said if you were competing, then so could she.” She pauses for effect. “Then you dropped out.”
Guilt settles in my chest. I lick my chapped lips. Slowly, I’m becoming aware of how gross I feel after going the whole weekend without a shower. “Listen, that sucks really bad, but—”