I stick around long enough to hear that Millie—our little Millicent!—is second runner-up. She holds her bouquet of roses and gives the perfect beauty queen wave. I don’t stay for the crowning of the winner. I don’t need to.
As I’m walking out to the lobby with the bottle of sparkling cider from Lee and Dale clutched in my fist, I see Mitch standing around with a bunch of guys from the team. They won their game last week, so they’re going to state on Thanksgiving Day.
It’s Patrick Thomas who notices me first. “Back for more?” he asks. “Couldn’t handle getting dumped?”
Mitch shakes his head, his expression resigned. “She’s not the one who—”
I lift my hand to stop him. “No one thinks you’re funny, Patrick.” I tell him. “Don’t you get that? No one is laughing. Not even your friends.”
Patrick frowns for a second then shrugs before turning back around.
Mitch nods once. I linger for a moment, offering a faint smile.
The audience inside the theater erupts with applause as I turn to leave.
I walk the three blocks in my dress and heels. I love this dress. I want to always look at it, hanging in my closet, and remember this night in November when I stepped into my own light. Wind pushes against me, sending the fabric in ripples as I move down the streets of my little town.
The bell rings above my head as I push the door open to find Harpy’s busy with all ten people in Clover City who didn’t attend the pageant.
“Whoa,” says Marcus as he hands a customer their receipt. “Lookin’ fresh, Will.”
At the sound of my name, Bo rounds the corner with a red sucker dangling from his cherry-stained lips.
I set the sparkling cider down on the counter.
He pulls his apron down from around his neck so that it hangs from his waist. His lips split into a broad grin. “Willowdean,” he says.
I sigh.