Dumplin'

“Then who is?”


She’s silent and the words she doesn’t say hang there between us like hulking icicles on the verge of breaking. “It’s too snug,” she finally says. “I’m not going to approve it for the pageant. It’s not about you being my daughter. I would do the same with anyone else. It’s inappropriate.”

“Mom, I feel good.” My voice starts out even and calm. “This dress makes me feel like someone I didn’t know I could be. I’ve never owned anything like it. But if when you see this—when you see me—you think it’s a pity, that it’s a shame I didn’t lose a few, then screw you, Mom. Try harder.”

There’s this still moment as I’m waiting for her to leave. Then I realize it’s me standing here in her room. I pick up my dress so as not to trip on the hem, and then I leave her there in that lonely little room that she’ll live in for the rest of her life with her sash and her crown and her sea-foam dress.











FIFTY


After work on Friday night, Bo gives me a ride like he has for the last two weeks, but this time he’s not taking me home.

We roll to a stop outside Millie’s house. Ron let us both off a little early so I could get here before midnight.

I pull my bag into my lap. Millie thought we should all get together. With only two weeks to go, she said we needed a bonding activity.

The pageant has become such an afterthought for me. I think I originally signed up because I was so sure I had something to prove. I don’t know if it was to myself or my mom or everyone, but with each passing day, I feel more and more like I have nothing left to say.

“So y’all are getting together to practice stuff for the pageant?”

I shake my head. “Not really. More game planning, I think. We gotta stick together.”

His brow is heavy with confusion. “So you four all entered the pageant together?”

I nod.

“I’m totally on board with the idea that anyone who wants to should enter this thing, but why does it have to be such a big deal?”

Grinning, I turn to him. “It’s kind of like how you keep going to mass even though you don’t go to Holy Cross. It’s something the team does together, right? But just ’cause you’re not on the team doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go. And just ’cause we don’t look like beauty queens doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enter.”

“I guess it would be really cheesy of me to say I think you’re ten times hotter and smarter than any beauty queen.”

My cheeks burn. “Yeah. Super cheesy.”

“I didn’t know people still did slumber parties,” he says.

“Well, I guess they do. El and I always spent the night at each other’s houses, but we never called it a party.” In the last few days, I’d told Bo all about El and me and how we weren’t really talking. He seemed to think we’d get past it, but I just can’t seem to find that same foresight.

I open the door.

He reaches for my hand. “Willowdean? Have you thought any more about what we talked about? You know I wasn’t kidding, right?”

It’s so impossible for me not to say yes. To tell him that I want to be his girlfriend. “I need a little more time.”

He nods. “Okay. Time.”

Amanda stands at the door with her jaw dropped so low it melts into her chest. Millie cranes her neck from behind Amanda.

“Oh. My. God,” says Amanda. “That was Peachbutt.”

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