Desiree Wickham sat cross-legged on the sofa in the little rock house where she lived in Barton with her mother. It was growing dark outside, but she didn’t bother to turn on the lights. Her attention was absorbed by a series of texts on her cell phone.
The door that led into the house from the carport opened and then slammed shut. “Des?”
“In here, Mom.”
Kim Wickham walked into the living room and flipped a switch. “What on earth are you sitting in the dark for?”
Desiree looked up in surprise. Pushing the tangled mane of curly blond hair off her face, she said, “I didn’t notice it got dark. What’s for supper?”
Kim held a plastic grocery bag bearing the name Tyler’s Family Market. She turned toward the kitchen, carrying the bag with her.
“Chicken.”
Desiree jumped off the sofa and followed her mother into the kitchen. “What kind?”
Kim slid two boxes onto the kitchen counter. One box held a Hungry-Man fried chicken dinner. The other box was smaller and displayed a picture of chicken and rice.
“I got you the Lean Cuisine,” Kim said as she carried the boxes to the microwave. “I’ll make yours first.”
Desiree cast a longing look at the Hungry-Man box. “I’m kind of starving tonight. The school lunch was pizza, so I just ate the top off it. You said not to eat carbs.”
Her mother pressed the buttons on the microwave before turning to her with a look of reproach. “I thought you said you had a modeling interview this week.”
Desiree nodded. “Yeah. I think on Thursday. Dede’s supposed to get back with me. I was just checking my phone.”
“Well, we agreed that you need to slim down some. Models don’t eat fried chicken. I’m pretty darn sure of that.”
When the microwave dinged and Kim removed the plastic plate, Desiree examined the dinner with a resentful eye. “I don’t see you eating a Lean Cuisine.”
Her mother froze, with the plastic plate in her hand. “I’m not a model. I’m a grocery clerk at Tyler’s Market.” She ripped the cellophane film off the dish. “Lean Cuisine costs more than Swanson’s and Hungry-Man. Did you know that?”
In silence, Desiree picked a clean fork from the dish drainer and carried her supper into the living room. She had nearly cleaned the plate by the time her mother joined her on the couch.
In a gentler tone, Kim said, “I don’t mind making sacrifices. I never have.”
Desiree scraped the last grains of rice onto her fork. “I know.”
“Just look there.” Kim gestured at the fireplace across the room. Fashioned of the same native rock that lined the outer walls of the house, the mantel was covered with dusty trophies, rhinestone tiaras, and pageant sashes.
The hanging fabric posed no fire danger. A gas log had been installed in the fireplace decades prior, but hadn’t functioned since Kim and Desiree moved in. Over the cold fireplace, the pastel strips dangled, bearing glittered letters that read Little Miss and Beauty Tot and Miss Missouri Petite.
Desiree turned away from the display. The prizes had sat in the living room for so many years, she hardly noticed them anymore. And the life-size photo that they’d taken of Desiree at age five had started to curl at the edges.
She lost her baby teeth the year after the portrait was made, and they couldn’t afford the false plates other beauty contestants used to cover their missing and incoming permanent teeth. Kim had looked into acquiring flippers for Desiree, but the cost was out of their reach, so she went without. It had a negative effect on Desiree’s scores at pageants.
Kim was staring at the photo, which hung directly over the fireplace. In a voice of regret, she said, “If we just could’ve got on Tots & Tiaras.”
Desiree didn’t like being reminded of that disappointment. They had tried to break onto the show, more than once. The last time they auditioned, she was ten; and Desiree’s mom had come up with a talent routine that wowed the judges: Desiree’s Houdini Act.
But they told her that she just didn’t have “the look.” Desiree had held back her tears at the rejection. She lifted her chin and took it like a pro.
But not Kim. Kim had cried out loud, all the way back to Barton. And then she gave up on their dream. No more pageants.
Four years had passed since then. It seemed like forever ago that she’d once been a winner, a girl who wore a sparkling crown on her head. Since she left the pageant circuit, she no longer experienced triumphs. She wasn’t any good at sports. Though she’d tried her best, she didn’t make the cut for the cheerleading squad. She didn’t even play an instrument in the school band. As a prisoner of middle school, she was destined to walk a lonely path; until she connected with Taylor Johnson, and showed her the modeling pages. Desiree had a new dream, and a friend to share it with. She had moved on from the pageant days, and didn’t want to go back; but she sometimes wondered whether her mom would ever get over it.
Desiree said, “I don’t want to talk about that. About Tots & Tiaras, or any of that stuff.”
Kim’s head ducked. With a guilty expression, she said, “Sorry, baby.”
She picked a miniature piece of chicken out of a compartment on the Hungry-Man plate, and held it out like a peace offering.
“You want my thigh?”
Desiree wanted it. But she shook her head. Because there was something she wanted more.