When I catch up with El later that day, I tell her about my odd exchange with Millie.
She grabs my shoulders and leans into me. “Will, you’re, like, her inspiration.”
I shake my head vehemently. “Am not.”
“Oh my God, you have a little fan club.”
“Eat shit.” A small speck of me swells with pride.
The rain brings in a few customers in search of chili. It’s the most business I’ve seen at once here. I serve up a few bowls, and without looking up to see who my next customer is, I say, “Would you like to try our new white bean chili?”
“Uh, yeah. A cup or a bowl or whatever.” That voice.
I don’t look up. “What do you want, Bo?”
“I came for some chili. This is a chili restaurant, isn’t it?”
Words bubble in my chest, but none of them are right. None of them say exactly what I want. Because I don’t know what I want. “Can I get you anything else?”
He bites down on his bottom lip. It disappears beneath his teeth. I love his teeth. They’re all so perfect, except the front two. They overlap. Just slightly. It’s like the universe decided he was too perfect and had to give him one tiny flaw. “No,” he says.
I watch as he walks back across the street with his to-go cup of chili. He pulls his visor from his back pocket and tugs it down on top of his head as he jogs into Harpy’s.
Over the next two days, I open my mouth at least twelve times to tell my mom that I’m entering the pageant. But I can’t. I can’t have this conversation with her. It’s like I’m holding out this last bit of hope that I’ll show up for registration and she’ll squeal with delight. She’ll tell me that she’s always dreamed of me entering the pageant and following in her footsteps. She’ll say that she didn’t want to push me. She wanted me to find my own way.
It’s a dream I don’t want to wake up from.
TWENTY-NINE
I’ve always known that the pageant was this huge part of my mom’s life, but it’s never been more than background noise for me. When I was little and she had meetings or rehearsals to attend, I usually stayed home with Lucy or went over to El’s. The pageant and everything it encompassed was hers alone.
Registration takes place downtown at the Clover City Community Center. Downtown Clover City is a picturesque square with a gazebo at the center. The block always smells like fried chicken thanks to Frenchy’s Fried ’n’ Such, which is the diner to end all diners.
El and I sit outside on a bench while I count out the two-hundred-dollar registration fee.
“You didn’t by any chance get your mom to sign your form, did you?” she asks.
“Nope.” Entering the pageant requires parental consent. And in this moment, my greatest fear is that my mom will say no. In front of all those people.
On the other side of the square, a short, wide person frantically waves their arms over their head.
“El.” I squint. “El, who is that?”
She looks up. Her jaw drops.
“Hey! You haven’t gone in yet!” yells Millie. “Perfect timing!”
“She loves you,” says El. “She is in love with you.” She stands up and uses her hand as a visor from the sun. “Is that . . . is that Amanda Lumbard with her?”
I nod.
“We’re signing up, too,” says Millie.
“Is this gonna take very long?” asks Amanda. “My mom’s going to kill me if I’m late to pick up my brother.”
I look to Ellen. She shrugs.
Millie fixes her hands on her hips. “I get that you don’t want to make a big deal of entering this pageant, Will. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t even really know what your personal reasons for doing this are. But you’re doing it. And that’s important. I want to be a part of that. We both do.”
“She made me come,” mumbles Amanda.
Millie rolls her eyes. “I tried to get Hannah Perez on board, but she said no.”