Chapter 16

Sheila adjusted her position on the sofa, looking like butter wouldn't melt, as Janet pointed the camera at her and Gerald, who was sitting with his arms folded, looking fed up.

Kyle was upstairs, being sure to stay out of the way, which was the way Sheila preferred it at that time, as she was still mad at him. How dare he shout at her? And over over an animal, as well; she thought she had raised him to be more mature than that.

After he had blown up at her, Sheila had spent the next few days giving him the silent treatment - completely blanking him when he entered a room. Kyle hadn't needed to stick to his guns when it came to not practising, as Sheila had been completely ignoring him in every way, even refusing to make his meals. But, surprisingly, Kyle hated that almost as much as losing the dog, and he'd had no choice but to swallow his pride and force out a fake apology so she would speak to him again. Practise sessions were still tense for the both of them.

He had not yet forgiven her, and he wasn't sure if he ever would, but feeling like his mother had stopped loving him was awful and a little bit scary.

"So, Sheila," said Janet, who was sat off-camera in the armchair. "Kyle's done a lot of competitions, even though he hasn't been doing pageants for that long. Do you ever have to push him to compete?"

Sheila tilted her head to the side.

"I wouldn't say push; I would say encourage," she said. "Sometimes I have to encourage him to practise; there are times when he'd rather be doing something else, I'm sure, but once he gets up on stage, he loves it, so it's all worth it. But that's the same for most people; sometimes I have to encourage myself to get out of bed in the morning. We all have to do things in life that we don't like."

"What do you think about the parents that give their kids sugar to keep them energised?"

"It's usually for the little kids, who can't keep awake all day. We'd never give Kyle any, though; not only because the boys' days aren't as long as the girls', but Kyle can't have too much sugar because he's diabetic."

That brought back memories of his birth, and she fell silent.

"Kyle has diabetes?" asked Janet, and Sheila could only nod, lost in the past.

~ X ~

Sheila, red faced, sweating, was lying in a hospital bed, where she had been for the past 60 hours. She was screaming in agony, and was surrounded by doctors.

Gerald, decked out in his hospital scrubs, was right next to the bed, one hand clamped lovingly around hers, and the other rubbing her back comfortingly.

"You can do it!" he encouraged, as she pushed and pushed to no avail.

"I can't!" She wailed, her head resting on Gerald's shoulder. "I can't push any more!"

"Keep pushing!" the doctor at her feet urged. "You're almost there!"

Gritting her teeth, Sheila squeezed Gerald's hand and pushed as hard as she could, but nothing happened.

The nurses were surrounding the doctor, the three of them conversing urgently in low voices. Then one of them gently moved Gerald aside as she hooked Sheila up to a nearby machine.

"What's the matter?" he asked, gripping his wife's hand even tighter. Now he was getting worried; they weren't supposed to be here for at least another two weeks, and things seemed to be going from bad to worse.

"The baby's heart rate keeps dropping during the contractions," she said, and Gerald felt his stomach drop.

"What?! Are they gonna be okay?"

"We're doing our best, sir," said the nurse, before the doctor spoke up.

"Right, we need to get her down to the emergency room now!" he said, and the nurses leapt into action.

"Why?" Gerald repeated. "What's going on?!"

"Her blood pressure's very high, and she's losing more and more blood by the minute. We need to get the baby out now."

"I -"

There was so much sudden activity surrounding him and his wife that Gerald couldn't get a word in edgeways, and before he knew it, Sheila was being hurriedly wheeled out of the room and down a corridor, and he followed.

What felt like many hours later, Kyle was finally delivered, and they held their baby for the first time. "The worst part's over," Gerald whispered, kissing his wife on the forehead.

Unfortunately, the worst part was only beginning. They hadn't known Kyle was diabetic.

"Please, can't you do something?" Sheila begged the doctor, holding her three month-old child, who was so small he could still pass for a newborn.

"Ma'am, it's completely normal for a premature baby to not gain much at first. You just need to keep feeding him."

"You've been telling me that for months! All I do is feed him! He's finishing the bottle every time, but he's not gaining. He's actually lost weight!"

"I know you had a hard pregnancy, and you're likely to be a little over protective, especially since this is your first child, but just try -"

"You're not listening!" Anxious though she was, Sheila managed to keep her voice low, as Kyle was sleeping. "Something is not right and you've got to help me!"

Eventually, Sheila got the doctors to believe her. But it took two more months, a new doctor, and the hospitalisation of her infant for them to diagnose Kyle with diabetes.

"He was born with it," she said eventually, "so he's never known anything different. I don't think it's ever affected him, and Gerald and I got him checking his blood sugar and giving himself shots from when he was really young, so he would be used to it."

She, of course, never found out that Cartman had teased Kyle about injecting himself, calling him a drug addict. Five-year-old Kyle didn't know what a drug addict was, but, even at his young age, he knew it couldn't be anything good because Cartman never called him anything good. He decided he didn't need his insulin, and stopped taking it, without telling anybody.

"Hi, bubbe!" Sheila grinned as Kyle and Gerald came into the kitchen, having just come home from kindergarten. She couldn't help but notice his sluggish walk. "Did you have a good day?"

"Yes, Mommy," Kyle said, who slowly made his way over to a chair, and leaned against it.

"He slept pretty much the whole way home," Gerald told her.

Sheila was immediately concerned; Kyle looked exhausted; school didn't usually tire him out this much. She noticed that he was sweating slightly, and he was breathing rather heavily, as well.

"Kyle, come here." She stood, concern written all over her face, but she didn't have time to do anything else.

Both Sheila and Gerald knew they would never forget the moment their little child collapsed on the kitchen floor after kindergarten. She had never been so frightened in her entire life, even when he was stabilised at the hospital.

Already an overprotective mother, Sheila then went into overdrive, doing everything she possibly could to make sure no harm would ever come to her child ever again.

"It's great that it's so normal for him. I think a lot of kids might be self-conscious about it," said Janet.

"Like I said, it's always been a part of his life."

"It doesn't affect him when he competes?"

"No. As long as he takes his insulin, and eats regularly, he's fine. He knows how to check his blood sugar, so he knows what he's doing."

Janet nodded.

"So, can you tell us a little bit more about pageant life? How do you get Kyle ready for a competition?"

"So, about a couple of days before competition, I'll take him to the salon, where he'll have his hair washed, and a facial, and his nails cleaned. I make sure he exfoliates and moisturises his face every day. The most important thing is practise," said Sheila. "Kyle will practise every day, and then a few days before the pageant, he'll practise three times a day. A lot of the time, I'll enter him in little local pageants whenever we have a free weekend, to keep him in practise."

"I've watched him practise, and he's definitely putting the work in, but his routines aren't as choreographed as the girls, are they?" asked Janet, making a mental note that although Sheila had said she wasn't pushing Kyle, she was also having him compete practically every weekend. She found that rather interesting, and was going to make sure it ended up in the final cut. Not that she was trying to push an agenda; it was just something that the viewers would want to know.

"Kyle doesn't Pro-am," said Sheila, referring to the type of 'dance-modelling' the girls did for all the categories apart from Beauty. "None of the boys do, but his routines are more choreographed. I think it gives him an edge, and in this industry, every little bit helps towards a win."

"And do you think winning is important?"

Again, Sheila hesitated.

"It's not the end of the world if he doesn't win, but we do these pageants wanting to win them. Everyone who does them wants to win. We want to win a Supreme title in each State. Kyle has never won first place. He's won his group lots of times, but he's never won the whole pageant. If he does, I'll be over the moon."

"It's been well documented that pageant moms will do a lot to ensure their child wins. We've read about spray tans, wigs, and false teeth? Is this something that's done for the boys, as well?"

Sheila hesitated just a little bit, before she smiled.

"Oh, yes, the flippers; they're more for the little girls – they use them to cover up missing teeth. If you have missing teeth, then you lose points, so a lot of kids need them, but I have seen one or two boys wearing them. Kyle doesn't need one, however; he was lucky to be born with perfect, straight teeth."

Gerald kept quiet as Sheila chatted to the camera woman. It was down to Sheila and possibly genetics that Kyle had 'perfect, straight teeth.'

Not long after they had married and Sheila was pregnant with Kyle, she had told him that as a child she had had badly crooked teeth and was bullied terribly. At the age of twelve she got braces, but the bullying didn't stop until her braces were removed in college. She told him she didn't want that for their future child.

From the moment Kyle was old enough, Sheila took his bottle away, and didn't allow him to use sippy cups and dummies, not wanting him to mess up his teeth. But Kyle never really knew what he was missing out on, as he was allowed to drink using fun, bendy straws. Sure, there were more than a few spillages, but Sheila didn't mind. It would be worth it if her son wouldn't be as miserable at school as she was.

She even prevented him from sucking his thumb, and fashioned thumb guards to fit over his hands every night. Again, Kyle never knew the drawbacks of thumb-sucking because he had never started.

"He has such a perfect smile," Sheila boasted. "The secret to his smile on stage is, when he has his back to the judges for a while, like if he's walking back up the runway, or if they're doing the step, step turn, he'll open his mouth to relax his smile, and then resume it before he turns around. That way it doesn't look fake."

Janet nodded silently, intrigued by all that Sheila was saying. She had potentially struck gold here. She discretely took a breath before she prepared to ask her next question. She had Sheila in a good place right now, and so Janet knew she had to be careful with what she said and how she said it.

"Like I mentioned earlier, Kyle has done a lot of competitions, which sometimes involves a lot of travelling. How does he manage to keep up with his schoolwork?" she asked delicately, hoping that the question masked the implication of Sheila pushing her child. Well, it wasn't an implication; anyone with eyes could see how exhausted Kyle was.

"My bubbe is a very intelligent boy; he knows that he's got to work hard at everything he does, and that includes school. He likes school; he asks his teacher for the homework before we fly out for a competition, and then he does it when he has free time. We did so many pageants last year because we were just starting out and he was really behind the other kids. We were just playing catch up," Sheila told the camera, bristling ever so slightly, which did not escape Janet's attention.

~ X ~

An hour later, and Janet was all done, but she and her crew hung around to film Kyle's evening practise. The kid looked a bit tense and annoyed, and she wondered if it was because of the dog; she hadn't seen it around the house anywhere.

To her, the practise session went okay; Janet felt that she had spent enough time with them to know when Kyle was not on top form, and to her, he appeared to be. She had to admire his ability to switch off his personal feelings and turn into someone who appeared to be genetically engineered for pageants. It was more than a little bit creepy, but it fascinated her.

She watched as he executed perfect turns, perfect walks, perfect waves, while keeping a big, natural smile on his face, and his bright eyes locked on the imaginary judges.

As Kyle had a big, National pageant coming up in Texas the following weekend, Sheila was watching him like a hawk, ready to call out the tiniest blip.

Watching Kyle practise his formal wear routine, Janet gestured for the camera to pan over to Sheila, who was placing her hand under her chin, signalling to Kyle that his head was too low.

"Head up," she said. "Now, spot. Spot the judges."

The camera panned back to Kyle as the smiling boy made eye contact with each imaginary judge, before executing a half turn, and slowly walking back up the makeshift catwalk.

After Sheila had deemed his routines satisfactory, the session was over, and Janet asked Kyle if he was okay to have a quick chat.

"Fine," said Kyle shortly, taking a seat. He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms.

"Thanks. Nothing major, just want to get your opinions," she said, taking a seat opposite him. "So, do you enjoy doing pageants?"

"Sure, I guess so," said Kyle non-committally, and Janet could sense he was not in the mood for an interview. Nonetheless, she carried on.

"What's your least favourite category?"

"Western Wear," Kyle answered. He hated his outfit, the removable chaps most of all. Usually, if the pageant had the Outfit of Choice category, Sheila would use the Western Wear outfit. "I don't like Swimwear, either."

"Why not?" asked Janet, and Kyle told her how he felt about the costumes he had to wear. It was much easier telling her than Sheila.

"What do you like best about pageants?" she asked, and Kyle only shrugged, unable to keep the annoyance off his face, which was just what Janet was hoping for.

Knowing she was going to make it worse, she asked the question that she was desperate to know the answer to.

"Where's the dog that you won?"

In an instant, Kyles mood changed, and he looked off to the side, despair written all over his face. He turned to look at Janet, and the look in his eyes told her everything. "She gave him away?" Janet asked, and Kyle nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was not going to cry on camera. "I'm sorry," said Janet sincerely, and Kyle nodded, his gaze on his lap. "You know what? You can go; we'll talk some other time."

Standing up, Kyle muttered a "thanks" as he left the garage and headed up to his room.

~ X ~

The next week, Sheila was packing their suitcases for the pageant in Texas. Janet was there, and Sheila was showing her Kyle's costumes as she packed them in her carry-on. She was just telling Janet about the disastrous moment when their suitcases got lost, when Kyle entered the room, looking drained.

"Mom," his voice was thick and congested. "I don't feel good."

Sheila knelt down and felt Kyle's forehead; he was burning up, his nose was running and he looked even paler than usual. There was no denying that he was unwell.

"Well, I guess we could skip this pageant," she began slowly. "But it's a National; we paid a lot to compete. All that money will go to waste."

"But I feel horrible."

"I know, bubbe. Tell you what, why don't we make the journey anyway – it's in Texas, not that far – and I guarantee that once we get there, you'll feel better."

Kyle was too weak and tired to argue, and a few hours later they were making the twelve hour drive to Texas, with Kyle asleep in the back seat and the film maker in the front with her camera.

Sheila was very certain that by the next day, Kyle would be feeling better; it wasn't like he never got sick.

The next morning, Kyle felt no better than he had the previous day; in fact he felt worse; his nose was clogged, his eyes were itchy, his throat was inflamed, he had a headache and he kept coughing. Kyle had caught the flu.

As he did not speak, due to his sore throat, Sheila went ahead and registered Kyle in the pageant anyway. Kyle just followed his mother numbly, wanting all the noise to stop. Everything was just so loud and bright, and he was having trouble concentrating on anything that was said.

Once they were in their hotel room, Sheila gave him some medicine and told him to rest up. Before he fell asleep, Kyle heard her chatting with the film maker.

~ X ~

The next day, the day of the pageant, he felt even worse.

"Ma, I really don't wanna do it," he croaked as Tony did his hair. Although Tony allowed a sympathetic look to cross his face, his did not say anything. It wasn't really his place, he thought. Personally, he would have removed Kyle from the pageant, and he believed it would be the best thing for Sheila to do. Yes, she would lose the money from the entry fee, but that was just life. Sometimes you just had to cut your losses.

"You'll be fine," said Sheila, who was sat at the little desk near the bed, flipping through Kyle's portfolio. "I'll give you some more medicine later, and when it kicks in, you'll feel okay."

"But I don't wanna do it; I feel sick; I just wanna sleep." Kyle had his hands over his face in order to try and block out some of the light. This was possibly his worst headache yet; even the Tiger Balm wasn't helping. Not to mention the blocked nose, chesty cough, earache, and achy limbs.

"Kyle, I paid a lot of money for you to be here; do you really want to make that 12 hour drive all the way back home for nothing?"

"Yes!"

"I'm sorry, bubbe, but you can't." Sheila's voice was sweet enough. "Besides, I've already registered you; we can't back out now."

Kyle knew it was hopeless; Sheila wasn't going to be talked out of anything. Kyle had no choice but to compete and he sluggishly followed her downstairs, only vaguely aware of the camera that was following them.

In the ballroom, the noise levels seemed rowdier than ever, and the loud music didn't help matters. Kyle closed his eyes as he sat down, trying to help his headache, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

A few moments later, he was sleeping, his head resting against Sheila's arm. Other contestants and their families' kept glancing at them, and the documentary camera was pointed at Sheila. Sheila paid the watchers no mind, glanced down at her sleeping son, and watched silently as the pageant proceeded.

Half an hour before Kyle's age group was due to line up, Sheila gently shook him awake and stood him on unsteady feet, smoothing out his tux.

"After Beauty, you can rest, okay?" she told him, giving Kyle's face another quick dusting of powder to make him look healthier. She also quickly applied some concealer under his eyes. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a bottle of medicine and gave two spoonfuls to her drowsy son.

On stage, as he did his beauty walk, everything felt slow and sounded muffled to Kyle. He kept blinking because his eyes were watering; he felt weak, so he stumbled a lot, and he needed to sneeze, so he kept pulling faces as he tried to suppress it. He wasn't smiling, more grimacing because his headache was causing him much pain.

Sheila was standing off to the side, and shook her head as she watched him, sighing. She raised her arm, trying to get Kyle's attention, but he wasn't even looking at the judges, let alone her. He was taking too long walking down the runway; if he didn't speed up, the judges were going to take points off.

"Facial Beauty and Best Dressed are the only chances he's got," she said to the film director. "He's not going to win anything higher." She was now beginning to regret her decision, but honestly, who could have predicted Kyle would perform this badly?

When Kyle had finished, she met him at the stairs and led him away. "Look, I know you're not feeling great," she said, as she marched him out of the ballroom, with Tony and the film crew hurrying along in her haste. "But you've been doing this long enough now, and this really isn't acceptable. You didn't stand up straight, you didn't make eye contact, or even smile!"

Kyle, almost being dragged along, tried to pull his arm out of her grip, but he couldn't in his weakened state. "Right, come on, you need to get changed." Sheila manoeuvred him inside the hotel room, pointing to the bed where his Talent outfit lay. Despite his poor performance, she still had hope that he would do a little better in the other categories.

"I don't want to," Kyle muttered, rubbing his eyes, smudging his makeup.

"Oh, now look what you've done!" Sheila huffed, sitting him on the chair. Kyle deliberately rubbed his eyes again, and Sheila shot him a frustrated look. At her glance, Tony came over and began cleaning Kyle's face. "Did you forget you're wearing makeup? Now, sit still and let Tony fix it. You need to hurry and get changed."

"No, I don't want to," Kyle repeated, shaking his head slightly. The movement caused him pain, and so he gently pressed his hands against his head. "I can't do the next one. I'm not doing it."

"Well, you can't be late," said Sheila, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't want to." Perhaps if he said it enough times, it would sink in for her.

"You know you get points deducted if you're late. You can't afford to lose any more points."

"I'm not doing it!"

Sheila leaned forward, and hissed, "don't you embarrass me like this!" in his ear.

"Mom, I don't feel good," said Kyle, as he wiped his nose, wondering if she could hear him over the pounding in his head and ears. His other hand was resting over his closed eyes, to try and block out some of the light.

"Kyle, we can't keep messing around like this. We don't have the time."

On and on she went, and her words somehow filtered through to Kyle's muddy brain, and she was all he could hear. He must remember to smile, to make eye contact, to keep his head up, to be more energetic, et cetera, et cetera.

Her words seemed to be getting louder and louder, and Kyle felt like he was being physically hit in the head. He covered his face, leaning away from Tony, and shook his head. Next thing he knew, he had started crying.

"I can't do it, Ma! I can't do it!" he sobbed. "I can't do it any more."

Tony stopped applying the makeup, and looked at Sheila out of the corner of his eye. Sheila looked at Kyle, before she gave a small nod.

"Right, that's it. You're not doing any more. Go to bed; I'm pulling you from the pageant."

Sick though he was, Kyle squinted at her through sore, swollen eyes. He didn't have to compete? Who was this woman, and what had she done with Sheila Broflovski?

"What?" he croaked.

"Go on; get some sleep. We'll be in the next room," she said, as Kyle slowly stood and pulled his ushanka on, before climbing into bed fully clothed. He was asleep with moments.

They headed to Tony's room, where Sheila sat down at the desk, unable to keep the disappointment off her face.

"He wouldn't have won," said Sheila when asked by Janet. "Yeah, it's disappointing, but he's clearly more unwell than I thought. And you never know before, it's always a little bit later, when they seem to be getting worse. He kinda had a little meltdown."

Tony began packing away his makeup, having gathered his bag from Kyle's room before he left, feeling unsure of what to say.

"Are you going to stay?" asked Janet, and Sheila hesitated.

"Well, we didn't fly here, so we wouldn't have to wait around," she began. "But there is a small chance he might have won something. I know he didn't do great, but the judges have already seen his photos. They aren't blind."

"You think he has a chance? What are his odds?" Janet asked.

"I think he's got the same chance as everyone else. Obviously, he won't win the Ultimate, but I don't think we'll be walking away empty-handed."

~ X ~

As it was, they remained at the hotel for the weekend, with Sheila periodically checking on Kyle, who spent the rest of the pageant drifting in and out of sleep.

By Sunday evening, he wasn't feeling much better, and so he stayed in the hotel room napping as Sheila, Tony, Janet, Tom, and George watched the crowning ceremony. If Sheila had hoped the judges would look past Kyle's poor performance, and just focus on his looks, then she was sorely disappointed, as Kyle only won a small, divisional trophy for "Best Hair".

She awkwardly climbed up on the stage to receive the award, and couldn't help but wonder if the judges had even looked at his portfolio. If they had, there was no way he would have won just a small Divisional prize, and so she decided to stick around until the end of the ceremony.

To her surprise, Kyle didn't win anything else, and she leaned back, frowning slightly. Did they look at his portfolio, at his new pictures? If they did, then how come he didn't win for that category?

"Well, you win some, you lose some," she said graciously when asked. "He didn't do his best, and the judges noticed. But, you know, all we can do is try harder at the next one."

~ X ~

Done! What did you think? I'd love to know!

Regarding Sheila and the thumb-sucking, I took inspiration from Shirley Temple's autobiography. In it, she said, "As an early thumb sucker, I found sucking away at something comforting. A sloppy habit which deforms your teeth, Mother had warned, and ingeniously fashioned a metallic contraption from a champagne cork as a restrainer to fit over my thumb. Who wants to suck a grid of wire? So I quit. Too bad thumb-sucking is only noted for its drawbacks.'

I found that fascinating, so I researched it, and I discovered that thumb guards do exist, and it seemed like something Sheila might do.