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“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know it was okay not to be perfect.” Her mother tucked Taylor’s hair behind her ear softly. “You’re not like me, Taylor. You’re a fighter. Who’s no quitter?”
“Me.”
“That’s right. Taylor Rene Krystal Hawkins. Miss Texas.” Her mom tapped her nose gently with her finger. Outlined by the fertile greenery, she was like an exotic plant. “Life can be ugly, Taylor. That’s why it’s so important to keep things pretty. And we are going to keep things pretty, aren’t we?”
“Yes. We are.”
Taylor’s mother was no longer there. “Mama?” Taylor whispered urgently. Sweat beaded on her skin and ran down her arms. A snake hissed from a tree. And Taylor was afraid. In the jungle, she heard the creak of branches breaking, the squawk of a walkie-talkie. She hid behind a bush and watched the man with the earpiece and the AK-47. In his left hand was a cell phone, which struck Taylor as odd, but she tried to keep her focus. That was what made winners — focus. Not getting distracted by the little things. The man wore a black shirt like the others she’d taken out, five by her last count. The walkie-talkie squawked with a voice, and the man in the black shirt answered. “Nope. Haven’t found her yet.”
Hidden by the thick vegetation, Taylor watched the man carefully. It was hard because sometimes things didn’t look right to her anymore. She could see smells and smell colors and it was all just a little fantastical. She couldn’t even be sure of this man. She needed to be sure, though, and so she risked stepping out from the bush.
“Well, I’ll be,” the man said, smiling. “Come on out. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help you.”
For a moment, her mind slipped sideways again, and she imagined he was her daddy coming to offer her a hand out of her stuffed-animal cave after her mother left. “Come on, baby. Come on out,” her dad had said. The light from her bedroom window had fuzzed the top of his buzz cut like a dandelion.
“No,” Taylor had said. And then she’d started crying. “What did I do to make Mommy leave?”
“You didn’t do anything. This isn’t your fault.”
“Then why?” she’d wailed.
“I don’t know,” her daddy had said, and he looked so sad.
“It isn’t fair!”
“No, it isn’t, baby. Not by a mile. The world’s only as fair as you can make it. Takes a lot of fight. A lot of fight. But if you stay in here, in your little cave, that’s one less fighter on the side of fair.”
He’d let her be, but every morning, he’d put down a tray with French toast, her favorite. It was brown around the edges and squishy in the middle, just the way she liked it. And eventually, she’d come out. When she was good and ready.
Focus, Miss Texas. Taylor forced herself to look again and concentrate. This man offering his hand was not her father or anyone like him. In this man’s smile was all the unfairness of the world in its thuggish seduction. “Just come with me. We’ll take care of you.”
“No, you won’t.” Taylor stroked the man’s cheek. She reached her arms up to cradle the back of his head and, with the skill of a champion, she broke his neck. Then she dragged him into the bushes, took his gun and walkie-talkie, and kept moving.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“What is she doing?” Adina asked.
It had taken two days, but the girls had found Taylor’s hiding place deep in the jungle and had gathered to watch her. She looked rough. Her normally smooth blond hair was a matted tangle. She’d camouflaged her face and arms with dirt like a soldier in a war movie. The white dress she’d taken the care to wash out every day was ragged.
“I can’t believe she ate that psycho-fruit. It’s like she was trying to kill herself or something,” Mary Lou said.
“It’s weird,” Adina said. “That’s just not something I could remotely imagine Taylor doing.”
“She was pretty upset about not getting rescued,” Jennifer said.
The girls kept a safe distance, crouched low behind the cover of plants as they watched Taylor work. For days she’d been sneaking into the camp and stealing random items — eyelash curlers, a hair dryer, earrings, stockings. It wasn’t like they needed them here, but why did she? Only Mary Lou had worked up the courage to approach Taylor’s XL Crazy. “What do you need those for, Taylor?” she’d asked, and Taylor had done a little circle-turn and half a jig punctuated with jujitsu moves.
“If chosen as Miss Teen Dream, I will not let the bad people mess with our pretty. Their outfits are wrong. They’re not good people. Tonight on Patriot Daughters!”
“It’s like she’s some freaky pageant robot that went haywire,” Mary Lou said. “Also, she licked a tube of mascara.”
“Don’t use that now,” Brittani said. “You’ll get eye herpes.”
“Boy, I hate eye herpes,” Tiara agreed. Beside her, Nicole pretended to write something on imaginary paper, which she tore off and handed to Tiara. “What are you doing, Nicole?”
“Writing you a prescription to come talk to me.”
“Can you do that if you’re not a real doctor?”
