“Oh? It looks like there’s plenty of food for a group this small,” I said, as he set down the tray and pulled back the foil. “My grandmother’s special turon, fried shortly before I got here. The spring rolls are stuffed with saba banana and a strip of jackfruit.”
I waited until everyone had helped themselves, then grabbed a paper plate and piled a bit of fruit salad on it, as well as a chocolate cake donut and another piece of turon. I’d had more than my share already, but I couldn’t help myself—the crisp, sweet coating and firm-yet-creamy inside were wonderful. The donut, in contrast, was not quite so wonderful. Dry, with an odd, crumbly texture and not a bit of chew. I tried to set it aside discreetly, but the mayor noticed and laughed. “See what I mean? Valerie brings those things to every meeting and she’s the only one who’ll eat them.”
Valerie, the woman who’d been talking to the head of the chamber of commerce, lifted her chin. “Well, I’m sorry that my gluten ataxia is so trying for you, Mayor Gunderson.” It was then that I noticed the mobility device propped up against the stage next to her. She turned her gaze to me. “I’m Valerie Thompson. Lovely to meet you, Lila.”
We shook hands, and as I studied her closely, it was easy to see the resemblance between her and Rob, particularly regarding the famous Thompson nose. I always forgot Rob had an older sister, since she didn’t work at the Thompson Family Company and never appeared in any of their press releases.
“Sana is kind enough to bring fruit to every meeting, but since the men seem to think it’s beneath them to provide food for us, I don’t see where they get off complaining.” Valerie stared longingly at the turon. “I’m guessing those aren’t gluten-free?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone here would have dietary restrictions. I’ll make a note of it for next time.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You know that’s not necessary. I’m capable of providing my own snacks.”
I shrugged. “I want everyone to enjoy my food. Dietary restrictions aren’t a burden. Plus it lets me be creative. It’ll be fun.”
The other woman came over to us and held out her hand. “I’m Sana Williams, one of the judges for the pageant. I like your attitude. Love your lipstick as well,” she added with a wink.
Her silky soft skin encased my hand in an iron grip—this woman was strong. And possessed great style as well as an excellent skincare routine. Clearly this was someone who understood the importance of exfoliation. “Nice to meet you, Sana. I’m Lila Macapagal. My family runs Tita Rosie’s Kitchen, and I’m the owner of the Brew-ha Cafe, opening soon.”
She smiled even wider. “Oh, you’re friends with Adeena and Elena! I’ve been wanting to meet you.” At my confused look, she explained, “Elena is a regular at my fitness studio. She started bringing Adeena around recently and they talk about you often.”
“Only good things, I hope,” I said, in a clichéd attempt at a joke. Knowing how Adeena had been feeling about me lately, I doubted everything she’d said had been complimentary. She wasn’t the type to hide her feelings or mince words.
Sana made a noncommittal noise and gestured to Valerie. “Valerie’s part of the pageant committee and her brother, Rob, is our fellow judge.”
Rob had been chatting with the mayor and chamber head, but made his way over to us after hearing his name. “So, this is our lovely third judge, eh? Pleasure to meet you, Lila.”
He winked at me, an appreciative gaze sweeping over my body. I wore my favorite summer outfit, a simple fit-and-flare dress in a deep shade of maroon, the closest to a summer shade I owned in my decidedly winter-toned wardrobe. The only good things about summer were these dresses and that it was finally sandal weather. I had paired the dress with intricately laced black leather sandals, whose stacked heels added another three inches to my five-foot-three-inch frame. Those additional inches, along with the dress’s very forgiving fit, made me look nice and voluptuous. I tried hard to embrace my curves and dressed in a way that showed them off, though it was still difficult to shut out my grandmother’s judgmental voice and the cruel taunts from other girls that had been on the pageant circuit. Another reason I wasn’t eager to reenter the pageant world.
“Anyway,” Rob said, breaking into my train of thought, “now that we’re all here, we can get started. I’m eager to begin.”
Mr. Acevedo handed Rob a sheaf of papers. “Here are all the contestants. Your first job is to screen the ones who haven’t supplied a satisfactory volunteer position so you can talk to them tonight. Remind them they have until the end of next week or they’re out of the competition.”
“Sorry, before we begin, what are the rules? And the schedule?” I asked. “Have they changed in the past seven or eight years? I know the pageant was on hiatus for a while.”
The Miss Teen Shady Palms Pageant had been relatively unchanged since its inception in the late 70s, but after Rob and Valerie’s parents passed away in a plane crash a few years ago, it had been put on hold to give the Thompson family time to mourn as well as get back on its feet, business-wise.
The mayor and chamber head frowned at my question, but Valerie lit up. “You bet they have! Those rules were so antiquated. I told the mayor that the only way the Thompson family would restart the pageant again is if we changed the rules.”
She threw a look at the mayor, who was grumbling under his breath. “The rules are rather simple this year. Contestants have to be self-identified young women between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. Currently enrolled in school, with plans on continuing their education after high school. They must volunteer a minimum of ten hours a week throughout the course of the pageant and provide signed proof they’ve completed their hours. Finally, they must read through and sign the Code of Conduct, stating the behavior we expect from our scholarship contestants.”
She reached into her oversize leather satchel and handed binders to me, Rob, and Sana. “These are your expected duties over the next three weeks, as well as the rubrics you’ll be using to judge each category.”
We looked over our sheets. My pageant days involved the typical Q&A, talent show, and evening gown contest, which even back then I thought was weird. What high schooler needed an elegant evening gown outside of the prom? There had also been a sportswear modeling portion, where we had to parade up and down the runway wearing the latest Thompson Family designs, a blatant bit of self-promotion from the pageant organizers.
Valerie had kept the Q&A and added essay and speech contests, plus a display of what the contestants had learned during their time volunteering. The sportswear modeling had morphed into a “Design Your Own Athleisure Outfit” segment—still self-serving, but at least it was creative. I liked it. I liked it a lot. It still wasn’t perfect, but at least now this was a competition I could be proud of.