Beauty Queens

Beauty Queens Page 70

MISS TEEN DREAM FUN FACTS PAGE!

Please fill in the following information and return to Jessie Jane, Miss Teen Dream Pageant administrative assistant, before Monday. Remember, this is a chance for the judges and the audience to get to know YOU. So make it interesting and fun, but please be appropriate. And don’t forget to mention something you love about our sponsor, The Corporation!

Name: Taylor Rene Krystal Hawkins

State: The Great State of Texas!

Age: 18

Height: 5’ 8”

Weight: 120 lb

Hair: Natural blond

Eyes: Blue

Best Feature: My unwavering commitment

Fun Facts About Me:

I am a winner of Li’l Miss Lone Star, Miss Dustbowl County, Junior Miss Waco County, Miss Purdy Boots, Little Miss Perfect, and Miss GlowWorm. I am proud to represent as Miss Teen Dream Texas.

I was voted Most Likely to Rule the World in a Scary Way. But I am used to dealing with petty jealousy.

My role model is former Miss Teen Dream Ladybird Hope, and I aspire to be like her in all ways.

Personal motto: “God made me beautiful. The least I can do is share it with the world.”

My mom left when I was six to go “find herself.” Some people are just weak and you have to pity them.

I am not weak. I do not need your pity.

Nothing scares me.

34For skin that’s silky smooth, try The Corporation’s Pore It On clay mask. Follow it with No More Oil light moisturizer. Once a week, steam clean with the Dream Steam kit. Attend to your breakouts before they break out with Zit Zapper ointment. Fix flakes with Flakes Be Gone. Prevent future crow’s feet with Eye on the Future eye cream. Banish cellulite with Orange You Glad You Don’t Have Orange Peel gel and circulation stimulator. Moisturize your knees with The Knees Have It. Cream your ankles with Special Ankle Management lotion. Tame your brows with What R U, A Woolly Mammoth? brow gel. Take care of those nasty earlobes with Lobe It Away exfoliator. (Did you notice how terrible your earlobes look? We did.)

35Forever Young Jeans, the gravity-defying jeans for moms who want to party with their kids.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Taylor’s legs were strong and they had carried her deep into the jungle. She’d climbed over rocks and cut through heavy growth until she could no longer run. She settled beneath the sheltering apron of a bush and let go. She couldn’t understand. She’d always been a good girl. A perfect girl. No one had tried harder than Taylor Rene Krystal Hawkins. And what had it gotten her?

“I can’t be what they want me to be.” It was what her mother had said.

Taylor couldn’t remember her mother very well. She had been six when Mrs. Hawkins had walked out before dawn, leaving Taylor with a lingering kiss on her forehead and a wound that lasted much longer. She remembered small moments, and these moments came to her now: A birthday cake cradled in her mother’s hands, with white peaks of frosting and animal crackers around the edges. The two of them on the swings at the park, kicking their legs higher and higher. The light catching her mom’s face as she stood at the kitchen sink, unmoving, the water running over the untouched dishes. Her parents squaring off in the open doorway of their bedroom. “This life is killing me, Chuck,” her mother saying in a voice hoarse with tears while her dad stood in his army greens, quiet as always, his hands worrying the edges of his hat. Her mother sitting in the half-light glow of the television well after Taylor should have been in bed. Beside her, a cigarette burned down to ash in an aluminum pie plate. The TV glittered with beautiful women parading in evening gowns, their smiles holding so much promise: Everything can be yours! All this and great shoes, too! Taylor’s mom wasn’t smiling, though. The familiar sadness had settled into her eyes and mouth.

“Tay-Tay, whatcha doin’ up, baby?”

Taylor didn’t answer, only snuggled into the comfort of her mother’s lap to watch the show. Girl after girl shimmered on the small screen. They were the most perfect things Taylor had ever seen.

“That’s a nice dress. I like yellow,” her mother said without enthusiasm.

“Will you brush my hair?” Taylor asked.

“Hold still.” Her mother brushed sweetly, softly, and to Taylor, it felt like the world was just this — her mother, the beautiful girls on TV, the caress of a brush in her hair. They watched till the end when a golden girl from Texas won the shining crown and took her tearful walk amidst flashing bulbs. It was late, and Taylor’s eyelids were heavy. She could just make out the sound of her mother crying softly as she rested her face against the top of Taylor’s head.