Revenge of the Girl With the Great Personality (11 page)

Of course
she needs me to do something.

“When?” I don’t even bother to hide the annoyance in my voice.

“The class starts in fifteen so you need to get over here ASAP.”

“But I’m with Taylor and we —”

“Not now, Lexi.” She cuts me off. “I got called into work to cover somebody who’s out sick, and we could really use the extra money. Come and pick your sister up and take her. It really isn’t a big deal. See you soon.”

And she hangs up. Because she knows I’ll come. Because she really couldn’t care less what I have going on, even if it’s a date with a boy.

Because what I want never seems to matter, does it?

“Is everything okay?” Taylor looks at me with concern.

“Oh, um, yes … Well, no. I have to go and take my sister to dance practice.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he offers.

God no.
The last thing I want is to have to drag anybody else onto Planet Mackenzie.

“It’s okay, I should go. Sorry, um …”

Taylor smiles and rubs my back. “That sucks. Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”

He’s being so nice. I wonder if I’m part of some plan for him. Like charity work or something. There has to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. There’s no way a makeover can have this kind of power over any guy. No matter what
Teen Vogue
says.

I excuse myself and head to my car. To do the bidding of a seven-year-old diva.

It seems like I can have whatever plan I want, but somehow, some-way, the pageants always have to come first. No matter what.

I
don’t know why I’m shocked that Mackenzie’s having a tantrum. But instead of being tired or upset about her hair or outfit, she’s freaking out over
my
outfit.

“Then make her take it off.” Mac stamps her foot on the floor.

“Take what off, sweetie?” Mom asks.

“All of it — her makeup, that outfit. Why isn’t she wearing her Team Mackenzie shirt? Why is she wearing
that
?”

Mackenzie points to the outfit I wore for my first date with Taylor. It isn’t anything super special, although I did get some compliments on my way in from the regular pageant goers who until today didn’t realize I was a girl or had a figure.

Honestly, I can’t believe Mom isn’t making me wear the T-shirt to the
Texas Beauty Tykes
interview. She’s proudly wearing hers.

“Sweetie,” Mom says in the high cooing voice she reserves for Mackenzie’s worst days, “we’ve got to go downstairs and meet with the producers. Don’t you want to be on TV?”

Mac scrunches up her face. “Not if
she’s
going to be there.” She points at me dramatically.

Yes, me. The girl who should be spending the weekend with her father. The one who has to pull a double shift tomorrow at work to make up for bailing on yet another Saturday to attend a pageant. Me, who could be playing mini golf with Taylor right at this very moment.

What’s odd is that Mac has never minded me being at the pageant as long as I did what I was told and wore the Team Mackenzie T-shirt. But the times, they clearly are a-changing.

“They want to meet the whole family,” Mom says, ignoring the fact that we’re down one father figure.

“Honestly, Mackenzie.” I figure someone’s got to try to talk some sense into her. “You yourself said that I’m ugly, so I don’t know why it bothers you so much that I’m just trying to be like my
gorgeous
baby sister.” I smile sweetly at her.

“You’re doing this to make fun of me and everything about pageants.”

Wow
. I’ve been underestimating Mackenzie all this time. She knows way more than she lets on.

“Honey” — Mom glances at her watch — “if you want to be on TV, we’ve got to go now. Lexi isn’t going to say anything to the producers.” She turns to me and gives me a warning look. “Are you, Lexi?”

“Of course not.”

And I mean it. I plan on playing the role of the saintly mute. And if, Lord help us, we get accepted, I’ll overbook myself at work and stay over at Benny’s. There’s no way I want to be on television. Sure, someday I want my designs to be featured during Fashion Week or on the red carpet. However, I don’t want my fifteen minutes (more like fifteen seconds) to be on
Texas Beauty Tykes
.

Mackenzie gets up and makes a big production out of leaving. As if she’s doing us a favor. Like the draw of the spotlight isn’t enough to motivate her to do anything.

We head downstairs to the conference room where the producers are meeting with potential targets — I mean
participants
. There are nearly twenty girls in line, from ages two to ten. Nervous mothers pace the hallway.

We see Lauren come out of the room.

“Miss Lauren!” Mackenzie runs over and gives her a hug.

“Well, hey, sweetie. Great to see you. The producers were asking me about you.”

“They were?” Mom puts her hand to her heart for extra effect.

“Yes, ma’am.” Lauren gives Mom an encouraging pat on her back. “They know I’ve worked on a lot of the girls here so they asked for my
thoughts. And of course, I said nothing but glowing things about our Miss Mackenzie.”

Lauren’s face lights up when she gets a look at me. “Why, Lexi! Look at you, gorgeous!”

I give her a giant hug. “All thanks to you.”

She waves me off. “Just helping to highlight what God gave you.”

I lean in so Mom and Mac can’t hear. “Thanks. I cut out some looks in a few magazines I was hoping maybe you could help me with.”

“Of course! Find me after the interview.”

“Really? Thanks so much!” I clap my hands really fast and throw my head back in laughter — giddy, squealy, very un-Lexi schoolgirl laughter. I’ve noticed a few of the people waiting for the producers are looking at me.

Better rein it in.

Lauren wishes us luck as Mom heads into the room. The producers asked to speak with the parents first, so Mac and I wait for her outside.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Mackenzie’s voice is strained. I look over and see her face getting really red.

“Doing what?”

She looks at me with her big eyes. “Why are you walking around like you’re auditioning for some makeover show? And why are you trying to create a scene at the pageant? This is supposed to be about me.”

“It’s
always
about you, Mackenzie.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Oh, okay.” I don’t say anything else. As much as I don’t want to do this show, I don’t want to get Mac upset before she has to go in.

“All you do is spend time with your friends,” she says in a small voice.

Yeah, like I’m doing right now.
My annoyance is growing by the second. It’s amazing that I’m allowed to have any time away from her kingdom.

Her voice is nearly inaudible. “At least Dad likes you.”

“What?” I look at Mackenzie and see she’s near tears. I check around to make sure nobody can see her. “Mac, you know that’s not true. Dad loves you. We were supposed to be with him today. Remember? And he was so sad to not see you.”

“No, he was sad he couldn’t be with
you
. He wanted
you
to still come.”

“He did?”

How does she know that?

“I listened in on the phone conversation. He told Mom that I should stop doing pageants and they’re a waste of time.”

I bite my tongue. I once suggested we cut back on going to pageants because they were costing too much money and Mom didn’t talk to me for a week. I know better now.

She sniffles. “And he didn’t even ask to speak to me. He only wanted to talk to you.”

“Mac, he’s known me longer than you. I guess we have more stuff to say to each other. And you’re usually so busy doing pageants so he doesn’t get to see you as much as he sees me. But, I …” I don’t really
know what to say. I can’t say she brings it upon herself because she’s only seven years old.

“What’s wrong?” We both look up to see Mom looking concerned. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Mac says quietly.

Mom turns to me. “What did you do?”

“I …”

Okay,
seriously
? Why is this my fault? And why does she automatically assume that I did something?

I’m really getting sick of this. And I don’t know why it has taken this long for me to finally see how ridiculous this all is. Not the pageants — I’ve known that forever. But the way I’m treated by my own family.

I have got to find a way to get out of coming to these things for good.

“Let’s go.” Mackenzie gets up and heads to the room.

Mom glares at me. “What on earth —”

I don’t let her finish. “Has it ever crossed your mind that
I
didn’t do anything? That maybe Mac is upset about something other than pageants?”

“For heaven’s sake, Lexi, this is not the time to start trouble. Not before Mackenzie has an interview with television producers.” She looks at me with such disgust. “And on second thought, don’t come in. You’ve already done enough.”

Mom turns on her heel and chases after Mac.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

“Is this seat taken?” An older gentleman, obviously a pageant dad, gestures toward the seat next to me.

“All yours.” I give him a weak smile.

“I couldn’t help but notice your little argument. Was that your mother?”

I’m taken aback. I’ve seen plenty of families melt down at these pageants. You usually just keep your head down and try not to get hit by any flying objects.

“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing. Just stress,” I lie.

“Are you auditioning?”

“Oh, no.” I can’t help but laugh. “My sister’s in there now. I think I’m a little too old to be considered a tyke.”

He gives me a warm smile. “Do you watch the show?”

“
Texas Beauty Tykes
? I don’t really need to watch it — I
live
that show. Is your daughter auditioning?”

He shakes his head. “No, simply observing. No matter how many pageants I go to, I can’t get used to all the silliness.”

I extend my hand. “Hello, fellow sane person. Pleased to meet a normal in the loony bin.”

He laughs, then takes my hand. “Tom.”

“Lexi.”

“So, Lexi, I take it that you’re not a fan of pageants, then?” He takes off his wire-rimmed glasses and starts polishing them with his button-down checkered shirt.

I hesitate. Generally when I’m asked about my opinion of pageants, I give a canned response:
“They’re wonderful, they help build self-esteem, my beloved baby sister just loves them….”

But I’m not in the best mood right now to hold back and pretend that everything’s okay. Because I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of how much pageants take away from me, from my family. I’m tired of lying, or not being able to express my feelings. Of having to stay silent.

I’ve been asked my opinion, and Uncensored Lexi is going to give it.

“Not really. It’s just … they cost so much money, and there’s no way you’re ever going to earn it back. Even if you win every single Ultimate Grand Supreme title, there’s no way to come out ahead. Every pageant costs us at least a thousand dollars, money we don’t have. And all I keep hearing is that it helps build self-esteem, but in my opinion, it builds brats. My little sister is the worst. Everything in our house revolves around her. And all Mom does is smile and say she has a ‘big personality’ or is ‘spirited,’ which at the end of the day means she’s a spoiled brat.

“Sorry, once you get me started …” I look around, making sure Mom hasn’t heard my tirade. I feel bad calling Mac a brat, but let’s face it, she can be one. And Mom does nothing to discipline her, especially on Pageant Day.

Tom smiles at me. “Oh no, I agree with what you’re saying. Go on.”

I realize how much better I feel finally letting it all out. I wonder if this guy would be okay with me lying down on a couch. This is totally therapy for me.

“I mean, do you really have to spend over a grand just so someone can come home with a crown to make her feel special? Like, what does it say about society that the only way you can feel good about yourself is if you put on a ton of —”

I stop myself even though Tom’s nodding in agreement with me. I’m such a hypocrite, complaining about how shallow it is to praise someone for their looks, even though I spent over an hour this morning primping to be behind-the-scenes. I’m pretending that I don’t get excited every day to be complimented on my new look, that putting on the pretty hasn’t made
me
more confident.

Maybe Mac and I aren’t that different after all.

“Sorry.” A feeling of guilt starts to spread over me. I shouldn’t talk so openly about my disgust for pageants in the middle of a pageant. These moms can be fierce.

Tom laughs. “Oh no, please continue….”

I’m starting to wonder what this guy’s deal is. Why is he getting so much joy out of my ragging on pageants? Worse still, what if he’s
friends
with my mom?

I turn the attention on him. “What age division is your daughter?”

He shakes his head. “Oh, I’m not here with a contestant. I’m one of the producers of the show.”

Holy butt glue.

Just then Mom and Mackenzie exit the interview room. Mac looks ecstatic, while Mom seems defeated.

Tom sees them coming as well.

“Well, I guess I should let you go. Great talking with you, Lexi. Really, great.” He hands me his business card. Thomas Woodhouse, Associate Producer,
Texas Beauty Tykes
.

Yeah, great.

Mom will end my life if she finds out that I ruined Mackenzie’s chances at reality TV infamy.

I used to spend the majority of pageants watching with my eyeballs rolled up into my skull, but today I decide on a different approach. I knew there were some correlations between pageants and being in high school, but once I pay attention, it’s a little shocking.

Generally speaking, tight, sparkly outfits get the most positive response from the crowd/The Chosen Ones. Confident poses elicit the most head nodding from the judges/jocks. Lighter-haired girls are the biggest winners (a.k.a. Alyssa, but we already knew that).

I start writing all this down to tell Benny later.

“Are you taking
notes
?” Logan gestures toward the notebook in my hand.

“Oh, yeah.” Although I don’t think Logan would appreciate my theories. “Just a little … experiment.”

He studies my face for a moment. I do my best to not look away.

“It seems like you’ve been doing a lot of, ah, experiments lately.”

I can’t help but smile. “For example?”

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that something’s going on with me; I’m curious to see what Logan’s theory is. I’ve heard the current rumor around school is that I want to try out for cheerleading next year.