Page 56 of The Wedding Favor

“I lied. Keep going. Tell me how young I look again.”

I rolled my eyes but since everyone was doing a great job of pretending I wasn’t here, not a one was paying attention. I never understood why people, especially women, were so up in arms about getting older. Some people don’t get the chance to grow old. Grammie wasn’t even sixty when she passed. Old people were awesome in an I-no-longer-have-a-filter-and-will-tell-you-exactly-what-I’m-thinking sort of way. Even more, they knew themselves. You didn’t make it to your eighties without knowing who you were and being okay with it. I couldn’t wait to reach that point.

“Iris, how old are you?”

I swung my head to Megan. “What?”

“We were just saying that none of us could be in the pageant because of the age requirement”—she exaggerated a frown—“but then I remembered you were here.”

See? I was basically holding this chair down. “I guess I could, but…”

Miss Former Harris County Now Bleached Blonde Helmet Head gasped. “You just have to do it. It’s such an amazing experience.”

“Ah, no, it’s not really my th⁠—”

Megan smirked behind her glass. “Iris isn’t really the beauty queen type, are you?”

Slowly, I turned and fixed my gaze on her face. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, please.” She waved a hand at me. “You’re not… really made for pageants.”

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “Why’s that?”

“Well, you know.” Her laughter had an edge of nervousness to it. I had a good four inches and at least fifty pounds on her so she had good instincts. “You’re not really into getting dressed up and all that. That’s what I mean.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know enough. Pageant girls have a certain look about them. That’s just not you.” She leaned closer, looking almost earnest. “You understand.”

“I must not be smart enough. Be real specific. Explain it to me like I’m a four-year-old. I want to know how I’m not pageant material.” She wasn’t exactly wrong. I’d join Disney on Ice before I signed up for a pageant and I didn’t know how to ice skate. But I didn’t like her telling me this. I could do this pageant if I wanted to.

The other women at the table looked back and forth between us, riveted by what was unfolding before their eyes.

“Fine. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you in a dress, let alone something appropriate for a pageant. Pageant girls carry themselves with poise and grace. They… glow.” I felt like I was glowing right now, although it was probably sweat from having a “garden party” in the hottest part of the day in July. “And there is a swimsuit category and you’re… you know.”

“I’m what?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. The other women at the table took the hint and leaned back in their chairs with the timing of a synchronized swimming team.

Megan snapped her mouth shut, her jaw ticking. “Pageant girls aren’t curvy.”

With a suddenness that made her jump (and that made me smile), I leaned forward. “I hope you aren’t saying something about my weight.”

The other women at the table gasped and Megan flinched.

I glanced around the table and realized that, yes, I was the biggest woman here. Both in height and weight. If I’d been younger, that might have made me self-conscious. In high school, I’d gone through a phase where I didn’t like anything about my body.

But having a big sister had helped in that regard. Mae had been bigger and taller than me and she’d never once let anyone get away with judging her body. She owned it. I guess I picked that up from her. Megan could say what she wanted. That said more about her than me. I was just fine in my skin. I wasn’t a size two or eight or whatever was considered “ideal” these days. My size sixteen butt filled out my size sixteen jeans just fine, thank you very much.

And while my dislike of pageants was strong, it turned out I hated even more the implication that I wasn’t worthy enough to enter.

It almost, almost made me want to enter just to prove her wrong.

“Of course,” Megan said, her voice dripping with disapproval. “There is one more thing, though. Pageant participants need to have sparkling personalities. You have to be likeable and sweet. And that, Iris Sampson, is something you’re not.”

She might have been right about that.

TWENTY-ONE

“Becoming a Rockette was a great honor.