Kyle, the Pageant King
Chapter 11
Kyle yawned as the plane touched down at JFK Airport, New York. He didn't know what was worse; long flights, or long car rides – both were equally terrible to him. Sheila had not given in to his request for a break, and had shouted Gerald down that very same evening. Kyle supposed it was nice that his father had been in his corner. They both knew they couldn't win against Sheila,but Kyle still appreciated the effort.
He kept glancing down at his phone, as he, Sheila, and Tony made their way off the plane and through the terminal. Hoisting up his backpack, Kyle waited for Stan to message him back; he was hoping for a sleepover next weekend, and was waiting for Stan to confirm whether his parents had said yes or no. Kyle figured that if he waited until then, Sheila couldn't really say no, because his friend would be expecting him. At least, that's what he hoped.
They arrived at the baggage carousel, and waited for their luggage. And they waited, and they waited, but none of them saw their bags anywhere on the conveyor belt.
"Where are they? We can't have missed them," said Sheila once the belt had made two full circles. She began walking up and down the length of the carousel, leaning in to closely examine the suitcases.
"I'm sure they're there," Tony said, also scanning the belt.
However, as the minutes ticked by, it became clear that their luggage hadn't arrived.
"This is ridiculous!" huffed Sheila, heading back to Tony and Kyle. "What are we supposed to do? Check-in for the pageant finishes in a few hours! We can't miss it!"
"Well, why don't we go over to the help desk?" Tony suggested. "I'm sure they can do something."
"Okay. Kyle, stay there," Sheila told him as she and Tony began walking over to the desk.
Kyle slumped down to the floor, leaning against the wall of the carousel, and resumed messaging Stan.
'Our bags are lost and my mom is totally freaking out' he typed, glancing up at the help desk, where Sheila was speaking rapidly, her arms waving.
'oh wow whats she gonna do?'
'I don't know.'
'maybe she'll just come home'.
Kyle laughed and looked up once again. Sheila's voice was getting louder, and the young woman behind the desk was trying to placate her. Knowing there was nothing he could do, Kyle resumed texting Stan, keeping him updated, and trying to drown out his mother's increasingly frustrated yelling.
He didn't know how much time had passed before Sheila came marching back, followed by Tony.
"How can she not know where the luggage is? All Kyle's clothes are in there! His shoes, his basketball! How's he supposed to compete?!"
"Well, maybe we could -" Kyle started, but Sheila continued talking as though she had not heard him.
"What are we gonna do? He can't compete without his clothes! Almost everything we have is in the suitcases. I can't pull him out; it's too late for a refund!"
Neither Tony nor Kyle could get a word in edgeways as Sheila continued to rant and rave. Kyle looked from her to Tony, who looked sympathetic, wondering what was going to happen. He couldn't compete without his clothes, and Sheila wasn't going to remove him from the pageant. Would she really be happy sending him to compete in his regular clothes, when he would most likely lose? As far as he could see, there were no other options.
"Ma'am?"
Kyle saw the receptionist walking towards them, followed by an older man. "I've notified the manager of your situation -" she gestured the man now standing next to her "and we've been making some calls. It's possible that your luggage is on another plane, and we're working on finding it. With luck, we'll be able to get it to you within 24 hours." The woman smiled brightly, but soon faltered under Sheila's gaze.
"The thing is, we need those suitcases now," Sheila began. "We can't wait 24 hours. This is important."
"Ma'am," the manager stepped forward, "I understand how important this is to you -"
"I don't think you do," Sheila interrupted. "We really need those bags. It's very important; my son can't compete without them!"
"I understand that, ma'am," the manager repeated calmly, "and we're doing our best to make it right. There is always a chance the bags could arrive tonight. You can give us your contact details, and we can call you when they come. Or," he continued, noting that Sheila didn't look too impressed, "you could wait here, and pick them up yourself when they arrive." He took a polite step back as Sheila turned to Tony and they began to confer, but Kyle couldn't make out what they were saying.
"Right, okay," said Sheila eventually, and turned to Kyle. "Go with Tony."
"What?" Again, Kyle looked at the two of them.
"He's going to take you to registration, and I'm going to wait here. We need your clothes."
"Well, okay." Kyle didn't see he had any other choice. He adjusted his backpack and placed his phone in his pocket.
"It's so lucky that I have your pictures and your portfolio in my carry on," said Sheila, more to herself, before gesturing for Kyle and Tony to leave, which they did.
They arrived at the hotel in good time, and joined the back of the queue. Kyle looked around at all the contestants, trying to see if he recognised any of them. There were quite a few he'd seen before, but as they were all either older or younger than him, he'd never spoken to them.
"Talk about bad luck, huh?" Tony said while they waited in the queue.
"Yeah," said Kyle, "what's going to happen if the stuff doesn't arrive?"
"I don't know," said Tony honestly. "I really don't. I'm sure we'll figure something out, though," he added.
After check-in, they headed up to their hotel rooms; Tony stayed with Kyle in his and Sheila's room, while they waited for her to arrive. There really wasn't much to do; Kyle thought it would be weird to go downstairs and practise for a pageant he might not even be taking part in. So, instead, they milled around in the room. Kyle explored the place; in his limited experience, the hotel rooms in New York were a lot nicer than a lot of the other ones he'd stayed in. This was definitely one of the nicer ones; the walls were white, and the red and black furniture offered a modern touch. The bedroom was furnished with two double beds, both with their own side table and lamp; there were chairs, a closet, a desk with a small television on it, and a feature wall of modern art. A small room through an archway served as a kitchen/living-room, complete with a sofa, another television, and a small counter top over some cupboards, upon which rested a microwave and a coffee machine.
The large windows provided a lovely view of the beautiful New York skyline, and Kyle stayed there for a moment, admiring the view. Yep, this was definitely the nicest hotel room he'd ever been in.
When he'd finished exploring, and had gotten his fill of the amazing view, Kyle headed back to the bedroom, flopped down on one of the beds, and alternated between flipping through the few channels on the television, while texting Stan.
Tony, on the other hand, was sorting through his carry-on, making sure all of his hair and makeup products were all still there, and that no accidental damage had occurred.
Night had well and truly fallen when a frazzled looking Sheila came running in, shopping bags hanging from her arm.
"Hey!" Tony smiled, but Sheila didn't answer, and put the bags onto the nearest bed.
"Our luggage didn't arrive!" she said. "They still don't have a clue where it is, and all they can tell me is 'we're still working on finding it'. What good does that do us? So, I had to run to a nearby store, and buy what we needed." She pulled a black tuxedo out from one of the bags. "They didn't have a white one, so this will have to do," she said, sounding disappointed. "Kyle, this is what you'll be wearing for Casual Wear tomorrow." She held up a pair of smart cream trousers, and a navy short-sleeved button up shirt, along with a pair of light brown shoes. "I think we can make it work. Oh, I've had to pull you out of Talent, since I can't get anything for it."
"Okay," Kyle shrugged, secretly feeling a little bit disappointed. Basketball was the only thing he enjoyed about competing.
"Okay, get over here; you need to try these on," said Sheila, and Kyle frowned.
"Why?"
"We need to make sure they fit; you know the fit is part of the score, and we need to do everything we can to raise those scores."
"Fine." Knowing he had no choice, Kyle picked up the tux, and headed into the bathroom.
"I hope they fit," Sheila turned to Tony. "I got them in his size, but you never can tell."
"I'm sure they will," Tony assured her, "and if not, we can fix it."
Sheila hoped he was right, for soon Kyle came out of the bathroom, and it was clear that his tux was slightly too big, and so Tony stood him on a chair, and got out his trusty sewing kit. Kyle, already bored, focused on the television as Tony began taking up his trousers and sleeves.
"Just count ourselves lucky you brought your sewing kit," said Sheila, who was watching closely. "You still have all the makeup, right? We won't do well without that."
"I've got it all," said Tony, concentrating on making the hems of Kyle's sleeves even.
Sheila couldn't help but give a small, disappointed sigh as she looked at the tux; it was so ordinary and plain, Kyle was going to have to work really hard to catch the judges' eye in it. Kyle noticed the sigh, and knew what it was about, and a slight feeling of worry swirled in his stomach.
"Kyle, you've got to really bring it tomorrow," Sheila said, still looking at the suit. "The beauty round is the most important, so you're gonna have to work twice as hard to get them to notice you."
"Okay," was all he could say.
"I think from now on, I better keep your clothes in my carry on; we can't have this happen again."
Sheila disappeared into the next room shortly after, back on the phone to the airport, hoping by some miracle, their luggage had been found. Tony finished up the alterations with a smile.
"There! It looks great," he smiled, stepping back as Kyle jumped down from the chair. "Okay, why don't you go try on your other outfit, and we'll see if it fits?"
"Sure, whatever." Kyle picked up the shirt and trousers, and headed back into the bathroom.
Though neutral and professional as he was, Tony couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sound of Sheila's frustrated ranting. Even though he would never mention it – it wasn't his place to say – it might have been better to remove Kyle from the pageant entirely. He knew that Sheila had her sights set on winning, and with Kyle already removed from one category, it probably wasn't going to happen.
Not long after, Kyle emerged from the bathroom in his new Casual Wear outfit.
"Hey, you look great," Tony smiled, but Kyle didn't say anything. "I think your mom is gonna wanna keep this," he gestured to the clothing.
"Yeah. Did they find the bags?"
"Not yet. They could turn up tomorrow, so keep your fingers crossed." Tony motioned for Kyle to stand back on the chair, which he did.
"What happens if they do? We did all this for nothing."
"I don't know. Hey, these fit perfect. Great! If you go and take these off, then I can hang them up."
When Kyle had gone back into the bathroom, Tony couldn't help but hope the clothes would arrive tomorrow. Sure, they would be cutting it a little bit close, but he was certain they would be able to make it work.
"Kyle! Kyle, bubbe!"
Back in his regular clothes, Kyle came out of the bathroom, and he and Tony headed into the living area. Sheila had moved the sofa, chairs and coffee table against the wall. "You need to practise," she said, moving back a few paces. "The ballroom's closed, so we can't practise on the stage, and we won't be able to tomorrow. Go stand over there." She pointed to her left, and Kyle did so. "No, there," she corralled him a few feet over. "That's your first X. You're gonna have to watch the other kids in your group to make sure you do it right. Okay, you ready?"
Kyle nodded, wondering why she was acting like he didn't know what he was doing by now, and stood up straight as Sheila introduced him, settling into his smile.
"And your 6 and up Boys King is... Kyle Broflovski!" The emcee announced, and Kyle stepped forward as the crowd applauded. He smiled as he was crowned, a sash placed over his shoulder, and a red and gold trophy was placed next to him, and he caught sight of his mother. She looked happier than he was expecting, and he wondered why. It had been well known among them that Kyle had not done his best today.
As soon as he was allowed, he, and the other boys, stepped off the stage. Kyle pulled his crown off, and headed over to Sheila.
"Well done, bubbe." She was holding her phone and smiling. "Guess what?"
Kyle's stomach sank.
"What?"
"Remember that modelling agency we saw?"
"They said they didn't want me," Kyle said quickly, knowing where this was going.
"No, the other one, remember? Well, they called me this morning, and they want us to come down to their studio tomorrow for a photoshoot!"
"Do we have to?" Kyle sat down, removing his sash. He noticed that Tony was politely making himself scarce.
"Well, they called us; do we want to turn them down?"
"Yeah. I do." It would just be too humiliating.
"They called us up because they want you. I don't know exactly what it'll pay, but it'll be good; probably more that what we'd win here, isn't that great? Besides, it'll be a fun experience for you."
"No, it wouldn't," said Kyle shortly. "I don't wanna do it."
"How come?" She sat down next to him.
Kyle got the distinct feeling that she wasn't listening to his concerns as he tried to explain it to her. When it came to things like this, she never seemed to listen any more, but he gave it a go. He told her that he wouldn't enjoy it, that if they signed him, it would be very time consuming, and they might not have time to do pageants. Not that he cared about that, but anything to stop her from doing this.
"Well, if they sign you, which I think would be amazing, we wouldn't have to take every job they offered us. Just like we don't compete in every pageant; if we did that, then we'd really be busy, and then you'd know what it's like to want a break."
"I know, but -"
"Kyle, I think we should at least check it out. Do you know how many of these kids here compete just so they can try and get a modelling job? Even if nothing comes of it, at least we can say we did it."
Kyle's protests fell on deaf ears as Sheila called the agency back, and confirmed their attendance for the following day. He had known this was going to happen, that she wouldn't listen and he would end up doing it anyway, but it didn't make him feel any better.
Luckily, or unluckily, for him, the Elite Kidz Modelling Agency wasn't too far from the hotel, but they had to take a taxi, as Sheila, of course, did not have her car.
The agency was a nice, respectable looking building, and Kyle sighed and ground his teeth as he, Sheila, and Tony ascended the steps and introduced themselves to the receptionist.
He had thought that it there would be another interview – Sheila had his portfolio with her – but, to his surprise, they were led to a dressing room, where the most awful outfit Kyle had ever seen waited for him.
Silently seething, he headed into the en-suite, and pulled on the dreaded clothing, looking at himself in the mirror in horror. A cream coloured thin sweater over a long sleeved white shirt, with a light brown jacket on top, paired with matching light brown slim trousers so tight, Kyle felt like they were cutting off his blood circulation. He looked himself up and down in the mirror, unable to believe how ridiculous he looked. Sheila had put him in some pretty crazy outfits, but those were so over the top, they were almost like dressing up. But this was different; it felt more real, in a way.
"Kyle! Are you ready?" came his mother's voice, and Kyle took a deep breath, before exiting the room. "Oh, you look precious!" Sheila cooed, oblivious to her son's glare.
"Yeah, you look great. Come here," Tony held out his arm and guided Kyle to the makeup chair.
"More makeup?" Kyle folded his arms.
"You can't have photos taken without makeup," Sheila told him.
When his makeup was done, he had to take his hat off, and they were met by a young woman, who led them through a myriad of identical beige hallways until they reached the set.
To Kyle's surprise, there was only a huge white backdrop, along with a large white block. And of course, there were the numerous lights; the extremely bright ones hanging above, and the umbrella lights positioned at the two corners of the white floor mat.
A friendly looking man approached them, smiling.
"Hi, you must be Mrs Broflovski?" he enquired, to which Sheila nodded. "Hi, I'm Grant Winters; I'm the director, it's nice to meet you!" he beamed, shaking her hand, before turning to Kyle. "And this is Kyle? Hi, there," he shook Kyle's hand as well, and also Tony's. "Well, it's great to have you here; we're gonna have a lot of fun today," he said to Kyle, before he looked at Sheila. "So glad we found you; I think Kyle's going to be great."
As Grant and Sheila talked about what the shoot was going to entail, Kyle zoned out, something he was very good at by now. He got the distinct feeling that Grant knew what he was doing and, like Tony, wouldn't get annoyed with him if he messed up, which relaxed him a bit.
Before he knew it, they were taking him over to the camera and was told to stand in front of the backdrop. "Sit down on that block, then Kyle, and we'll get started," said Grant, as he stepped behind the camera, while Sheila and Tony stood next to him.
Kyle was told to pose this way and that – one foot on the block; sitting on the block, legs stretched out. Legs bent, resting his chin in his hands. Look at the camera; look up, look to the left, look down. Smile, look serious, stand up, thumbs in your belt loops, Kyle.
Several hours and many outfit changes later, and Kyle was exhausted. As soon as the director said he was finished, Kyle slumped in relief, feeling like he had run a marathon.
As soon as he was allowed, he stepped off the set, and took the makeup wipe Tony offered him. As he cleaned his face, he saw Sheila and Grant looking over the photos.
Wanting nothing more than to sleep, Kyle sat down while he waited for Sheila to finish. He couldn't wait to go home. It felt so strange to be here, in this studio, when he should be at school. Never in a million years would he imagined that his mother would prioritise a photoshoot over his education, but here they were. Luckily for him, Stan didn't mind dropping off his schoolwork, and letting Kyle read his notes – the ones Stan remembered to take, anyway.
"Can we go now?" he asked when she approached him, looking pleased.
"In a minute," she said. "The pictures are amazing, Kyle; you're going to love them."
"Uh-huh," was all Kyle said, not caring, but not wanting to get into an argument. "I'm ready to go, can we go?"
"Oh, okay, then," Sheila said. "Get your stuff, and I'll call a cab."
"I already got everything." Kyle moved closer to the door, desperate to get going. "When's the flight?"
"Oh, not for a few hours," Sheila told him, but Kyle still couldn't wait to get out of the building.
"Come on!" He began tugging on her arm, trying to make her move faster, but Sheila was discussing the photos with Tony.
"Slow down, Kyle; the plane's not going anywhere," said Sheila, before she turned back to Tony. "Anyway, he's gonna let us know when the catalogue's ready, and he said he'll send me a copy, which is really nice of him."
"It's great," Tony smiled. "It's amazing that Kyle got this opportunity."
Sheila had to agree; she remembered the comment that started all this – that little old lady who thought Kyle was a model, and now he was. Her son had actually been photographed for a childrens' clothing line, and was going to be featured in the catalogue. She felt like pinching herself. One of her dreams had come true.
"Come on! We gotta get back to the hotel and get our suitcases and stuff." Kyle was already at the door, tapping his foot. Anything to get out of there. "You know it can take hours to get through security."
"All right, then." Sheila finally relented, and the three of them headed back to the hotel.
Stepping into Skeeter's, Gerald headed over to the bar, and sat down. He ordered a beer, and looked around at the patrons. The bar might be rowdy, but it was better than what was going on in his house. Despite both his and Kyle's protests, Sheila would not allow their son to take a break. At that moment, she was making Kyle practise in the garage. If she wasn't doing that, then she was searching for pageants, and if she wasn't doing that, she was sat a little table in a corner of the living-room, making alterations to Kyle's costumes. Gerald would be trying to relax after a long day at work with a beer and a movie, and all he could hear was the sound of the sewing machine, as Sheila stitched sequins and ribbons and God knows what else onto those ridiculous outfits she forced Kyle into.
Someone clapped him on the back, and he looked up in time to see Randy sit down next to him.
"Hey, Ger,"
"Hey, Randy, how's it going?"
"Yeah, the usual, you know? Wife's driving me nuts, kids are driving me nuts."
Gerald chuckled.
"Yeah, I know the feeling."
The two men drank their beers in silence for a moment, when they were joined by Jimbo, Ned, Stephen Stotch, and Stuart McCormick.
"Hey, guys!" Jimbo waved his beer around as he sat down next to Randy.
The men chatted happily for a while, complaining about their jobs, their wives, their kids. Just a normal evening, exactly what they needed. Gerald began to relax, and he sipped his beer contentedly.
Then Stephen spoke up.
"Hey, speaking of kids, Gerald," he began, and Gerald looked over at him. "Linda saw Sheila and Kyle in the salon last week."
"What?" Gerald tried to appear casual, though he knew where this conversation was going to go. "The salon? I guess they were shopping, and Sheila decided to get a haircut or something." Yes, that was the best thing to do, he thought; deflect it, stop it before it started.
"No, it wasn't that." Stephen's eyes were gleaming, and all of their friends were listening intently now. "She said she saw him getting his hair washed."
Gerald's cheeks burned as someone sniggered behind him.
"Well, yeah, have you seen his hair?" he said calmly. "Too much of it for us to manage. What's the big deal?"
"Well, that's not all." Stephen was grinning widely now, and Gerald got the sense he had been waiting for this for a while. His fist clenched and he glared into his beer. "Linda told me that she and your wife got talking."
Game over, Gerald thought, still scowling, and he forced himself to look at Stephen, who was still smiling. "She told me what's been going on."
"What?" Jimbo leaned forward eagerly, as did Ned and Stuart.
"Gerald's wife has been putting their son into beauty pageants!" Stephen sputtered, before he burst out laughing. Gerald once again scowled into his beer as the rest of his friends cackled and howled with laughter.
"Oh, my God, are you serious?!" Jimbo wiped a tear from his eye, his face red. "Are you -?" and he started laughing again, banging his fist on the counter.
"Pageants! Beauty pageants!" Stuart was laughing so hard he was wheezing.
"All right, all right," Gerald looked up, annoyed. "Give it a rest, guys."
"Yeah!" said Randy, and Gerald felt glad for the support. "Give Gerry a break. It's not his fault his son's a pansy."
"He's not a pansy!" Gerald snapped, feeling insecure. He felt as though they were making fun of him. "He doesn't want to do it; he hates it! It's all Sheila's thing." Unfortunately for him, his friends continued laughing. "Shut up!"
"Sorry, but it's so funny!" Stephen grinned. "I mean, he's a boy."
"I just told you he hates doing it."
"So, then why does he do it?" asked Randy.
"It's Sheila; she's got it into her head that this will help his self-esteem," Gerald explained. "It's ridiculous."
"Well, why doesn't he tell her to stop? Why don't you tell her to stop?" asked Randy, and just like that, the jeering arose once again.
"Ah, too afraid of his wife to speak up!" cried Jimbo, looking far too gleeful for Gerald's liking, and he felt his face burning again.
"Come on, Ger, she's not that scary!" ribbed Stuart, and Gerald had had enough.
"Do you wanna go up to her and tell her to stop?" he asked Stuart, who stopped laughing instantly. "How about you?" He directed this at Stephen, who also quietened down. Now, none of them were looking at him; instead, they were gazing into their beers as though they were the most interesting thing on the planet. They all knew what Sheila was like. "I thought so," he said snootily, before downing the last of his beer and walking out. Childish? Perhaps, but he didn't care one bit.
He walked more briskly than he usually would have, fists bunched into his pockets, moodily kicking a loose stone. Now he couldn't even go for a beer any more; not without being ridiculed. Great. Just great. They weren't ever going to let him live this down.
Kyle shifted in his seat as the crowning ceremony dragged on. He couldn't remember exactly if he was in Kentucky, Tennessee, or Mississippi, but he was somewhere in that general area.
Folding his arms, he tilted his head as Brianna leaned close to him.
"I thought she'd get something higher," she said, referring to the fourteen-year-old girl who had just been crowned "Mini Overall".
Kyle had to agree; he hadn't seen her beauty routine, but her other routines had been really good, and her talent, where she had tap-danced a complicated a capella routine on a table, had wowed the audience. Kyle felt bad that he'd felt a bit jealous of her; without bragging, his talent was the one that was usually the most complimented on, but everyone was gushing over her. Not that she didn't deserve it, because she truly did, but Kyle couldn't help but feel a little put out. He tried to shake this terrible thought from his mind and focus on the ceremony.
"I don't get it, either," said Jake, who was sitting on Kyle's other side. "She was great!" They spoke quietly, so as not disrupt the proceedings, and every so often, they would stretch and yawn, waiting for it to be over. "I don't know who they're gonna pick over her." The three of them paused to applaud the next winner, before carrying on their conversation.
"Me either," Kyle shrugged. He didn't hold out much hope of winning that title; if the judges didn't like a tap dancer who moved so fast her legs were a blur, then what chance did he have?
"I can't believe Madi's flipper fell out!" Brianna whispered, referring to the little six-year-old girl whose false teeth had slipped out during her Casual Wear routine, unable to stop a light-hearted chuckle escaping from her mouth. "Oh, I felt so bad for her! You guys are so lucky you don't have to deal with that." She shifted closer to Kyle, her shoulder gently bumping against his.
"I think I'd take the flipper," said Kyle honestly, leaning back in his chair. "I heard Mom say she wanted to start getting my teeth whitened." He crinkled his face in disgust.
"What? Your teeth are fine!" said Brianna. "I like your smile."
"Thanks," said Kyle, while Jake only shook his head, wondering how Kyle could be so oblivious. "The only reason she's not is because Tony convinced her not to. Said something about if you bleach teeth a lot, it's bad for them. Fine by me," he added, not caring what Tony had said, as long as it worked, which it had.
"Yeah, I'm so glad we don't need flippers," said Jake. "I think that's where I would draw the line."
Kyle nodded in agreement, all of them clapping as the "Personality Supreme" was crowned, and he cringed as the overtired toddler burst into tears on stage, screaming.
Kyle stretched his arms and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling bad for the little girl. They had twenty minutes, perhaps half an hour before the ceremony was finished, and then they could leave. He was thinking about what they'd do when it was over; Brianna wanted to go swimming, but Kyle still refused to step in a pool. Maybe they would get a chance to relax and do some exploring, but before he could say this, the emcee spoke up again, and so Kyle remained silent.
"And now we have our National Overall Beauty Supreme," announced the host, and a few people cheered. "Put your hands together for... Kyle Broflovski!"
Before Kyle could register what was happening, Brianna was hugging him, shrieking happily. He could see Jake applauding him out of the corner of his eye, and he could hear cheering.
When Brianna had removed her arms from around him, Kyle slid off his chair, and made his way to the stage. He was met halfway by Tony, who could barely contain himself as he also gave Kyle a tight hug, before stepping aside.
Kyle walked down to the second X in the centre of the stage, and stood patiently as he was crowned. Looking out at the crowd, he remembered to smile as last year's Beauty Supreme winner handed him the money, and placed a trophy next to him.
The thing that surprised him the most, however, was his mother's face. She looked happy. His divisional trophies lay forgotten on the chair next to her, and when he got off stage, she was right there waiting for him.
"Bubbe!" she hugged him, as well. "I can't believe it!"
"What?"
"What you've won!" Sheila looked exhilarated, and was beaming. "This title means that your facial beauty score alone was the highest in the pageant!" She looked around at the audience, unable to keep the smug look off her face, while Kyle flushed with embarrassment. He took off his crown and handed it to her, and headed back to his friends.
"Well done!" Brianna squealed, throwing her arms around him once again.
"Thanks," said Kyle, still feeling embarrassed.
Sheila couldn't help but beam as she sat back down. Kyle's crown was on her lap, and his trophy was next to her. She couldn't stop staring at them. It was official; her son was the most beautiful kid in this room. A sense of pride washed over her; this was what she had worked so hard for. It was almost as good as an Ultimate Grand Supreme.
~ X ~
Thanks as always for reading. What did you think? I'd love to know.