Dumplin - Julie Murphy Page 0,75

my mom. “Come on in!”

My mom stands behind me, and I can see both our reflections there in the mirror. I watch as her gaze travels over me, and her lips dip down at the corners when she sees the way the fabric stresses against my hips.

Our eyes meet, and she catches herself. Her mouth presses into a smile. “Surely we can let it out a few inches,” she says. “And tuck it in up top.” Her voice is too high and her smile too big, but I don’t care. I can ignore those things. Because she’s making an effort to meet me where I am. “What do you think?” She pulls the top of the dress back, bunching the spare fabric in her fists.

I can almost imagine what it might look and . . . I like what I see. “It’s good. I’m only going to wear it for twenty minutes, right? We can make it work.”

I sit in the third row of the school auditorium. Millie sits beside me, reading a paperback romance, and beside her sits Amanda, her feet bouncing as she drums her fingers on her thigh.

Today is the day we all have to have our talents approved for the pageant. All I’ve got is the one magic trick I learned from the book Mitch gave me. The rules state that a contestant should prepare a sample, so I’m hoping this is enough.

Hannah squeezes down our aisle past Amanda and Millie. “I’m out of here as soon as they give me the okay.”

“Don’t you think it would be polite to stay for everyone else’s talents?” asks Millie.

Hannah plops down in the seat beside me, but doesn’t bother to answer.

Millie’s patience for Hannah is slowly slipping, and I get this sick joy from that. I would love to see cheerful little Millie lose it on Hannah’s grumpy ass.

Once the crowd settles, my mom gives her spiel and says that costumes for the talent portion will need to be approved at the same time as the rest of our wardrobe. “The surprises,” my mother says, “are for the audience.”

First up is Bekah Cotter who—ta-da!—twirls a baton like a freaking superhuman. This time, however, Bo’s name is not stamped to her butt cheeks. It’s really not fair how much I can’t stand her. She’s maybe said twenty words to me, but the thought of Bo, in a tux, escorting her at the pageant turns me into this version of myself that makes my eyes burn.

Then there are five girls in a row who sing songs from either Les Miz or Chicago. Karen Alvarez’s Chicago performance is deemed too sexy and she is given one week to come up with another song. She slinks off the stage, holding her songbook to her chest. I can tell she’s mortified, but it smells of pageant scandal and I kind of love it.

“Amanda Lumbard?” calls Mallory Buckley.

Millie pats Amanda on the back as she reaches down under her seat for a duffel bag. Once she’s onstage, I notice that she’s not wearing her Frankenstein orthopedic shoes. I mean, these still have a thicker heel on one side, but they’re more athletic-looking.

“I guess this isn’t very traditional, but it’s what I’m good at.” Her voice shakes a little. She squats down and opens her gym bag to retrieve a soccer ball. Without any further introduction, she begins dribbling the ball back and forth between her knees. It’s kind of amazing. She head butts the ball a few times and even kicks it over her head, but the ball never hits the ground.

Here she is doing something I could never even dream of doing with my two legs of equal length. After a few more tricks she tucks the ball beneath her arm, grabs her bag, and walks offstage.

Millie and I clap like madwomen, while the rest of the auditorium is quiet as the committee makes its decision.

It takes doubly as long as it has for everyone else, but finally my mom says, in a not-so-impressed tone, “Well, that wasn’t our usual fare, but it’ll do.”

“So I’m approved then?” asks Amanda.

My mom nods.

Amanda smiles, all goofy and relieved as she sits back down.

Next is a monologue from Much Ado About Nothing, which is actually pretty good, but will be totally lost on the judges.

“Willowdean Dickson?”

I reach into my backpack for my prop and walk down the aisle to the stage.

As a kid, I remember standing onstage during school productions. The intense lights always made it