Something To Prove (TNT Force Cheer Book 7)

by Dana Burkey

  Continue reading for a sneak peek at the book Welcome To My World

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  Chapter 1

  “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give all of these lovely ladies one last round of applause,” a woman in a sparkling blue dress announced from behind a black podium. “Now, the moment you have all been waiting for.”

  As she began announcing the girls receiving honorable mentions, I tightened my smile and clapped gracefully at each name. Making sure to give most of my attention to the announcer, I also made sweeping glances around me to show every single person in the room that I wasn’t just focused on whether or not I was about to win a crown. Between clapping for every contestant being announced, I held my arms by my side to allow the folds of the fabric of my white ball gown to lie exactly as they should. Each and every move and facial expression was calculated and purposeful, thanks to my extensive training and coaching. All of which paid off as the announcer finally got to the moment I had been waiting for all afternoon.

  “And your winner, being crowned today as our 2018 Miss Junior Teen Southern Glamour.” She paused for dramatic effect, then finally continued, “Jillian Andrews.”

  With practiced excitement, I brought my hands to my mouth while uttering an “Oh my goodness.” I blinked my eyes so everyone watching assumed I was at least a little emotional, then walked forward to accept my flowers, sash, and crown. Once everything was in place, I walked down the short runway on the stage, flashing my smile in every direction. Around me my fellow contestants, as well as the crowd and judges, cheered loudly as event photographers took photos of my first minutes as the new reigning queen.

  The moment lasted only a few minutes before all the contestants were ushered off the stage as the next age group of girls were brought on for their award ceremony. Each girl waiting to go on stage congratulated me as I walked past, their eyes glued on the tall and glittery crown atop of head. I thanked them, reveling in the admiration they were sending my way. Most of the girls who had been on stage with me said their congrats as well, although I could see the disappointment on their faces at losing. Again. It was a facial expression I saw often, especially considered my winning streak at all the pageants in the greater Atlanta area. It made me the envy of many, as well as the friend of none of my fellow competitors.

  “Perfection as always,” a voice all but sang to me as I made my way backstage to the dressing room I was sharing with a handful of other girls. “This was exactly the momentum we needed going into Atlanta Dreamers.”

  Ashleigh wrapped me in a hug, enveloping me in her silk flower print blouse and cloud of hairspray. As she let me go, we continued walking further backstage, her talking the whole way. I listened quietly, grinning as she gushed about everything I had done on stage. Sure, I knew the day had gone in my favor; I even had a crown to prove it. But hearing my pageant coach go on and on about my performance was a big deal when it happened.

  Even after working with Ashleigh for just over two years, I still felt like I was with a celebrity every time I was around her. A former Miss Georgia, Ashleigh was second runner up at Miss America in the early 2000’s and had since coached two winning Miss Alabama's, and a Miss Florida who went on to win Miss America. It was a legacy that everyone took notice of, so when she finally moved home to Augusta, my mom signed me up to work with her within seconds.

  Ashleigh Ford, once known as Ashleigh Montgomery, always looked the part of a beauty queen. Her long brunette hair was forever curled and styled to perfection, she had just the right sun-kissed glow even in the winter, and she always dressed like she was straight off a fashion week runway. Today she was wearing a sapphire blue floral blouse, to match her bright blue eyes, paired with a black pencil skirt and wedge sandals that made her much taller than her naturally short and thin frame. Wearing them she towered over me, despite my heels and the extra two inches I had on her when we were both barefoot.

  “I feel like I could have done a little better on my song though,” I interjected finally, after Ashleigh had finished talking about my walk during outfit of choice. “I rushed the chorus the second time through.”

  “We can worry about that Monday,” she said simply, as we reached my makeup station. “For now, let’s start packing up so we can go celebrate.”

  Putting aside my worries over not getting every second of my talent portion perfect, I went to work changing out of my evening gown. Picking up a more casual version of the gown I was wearing, I slipped behind the changing screen and quickly traded outfits. My new dress still helped me look the part of the winning junior contestant, especially after I draped my pale pink sash across my body.

  Once I was all ready, I got to work packing up my makeup, glancing at my reflection as I worked. My platinum blonde hair was pulled up into a mess of curls that had just enough pieces hanging loose to simultaneously make me look both sophisticated and youthful. Thanks to my deep purple eyeshadow my green eyes popped more than usual. I’m sure the dark black eyeliner and massive fake eyelashes surrounding them helped too. Combined with my spray on tan, bronzer, and pink lipstick, I looked old enough to compete with the 16-18-year olds in the teen division. Sadly, I had a year and a half until I made that graduation, so I was tasked with simply continuing my winning streak in the junior level for a little while longer.

  “There’s my little queen,” a male voice called out, drawing me away from my reflection. I turned to hug my dad who was dressed in his Sunday best despite the fact he wasn’t on stage a single second.

  “We’re so proud of you sweetie,” my mom added, then quickly used her phone to snap photos of me and my dad.

  She took easily a dozen photos of us before handing off the phone so she could pose with me. A former Miss Alabama hopeful, my mom knew just how to stand and smile so we both looked glamorous in every frame. When we were joined by Ashleigh, the three of us stood in formation automatically, having taken similar photos in many competitions before.

  “Okay, time to get food,” my dad said after photos had gone on long enough.

  Agreeing easily, the four of us grabbed the garment bags, caboodles of makeup, curling irons, and suitcases of shoes to carry to the car. My dad thankfully did most of the work, leaving me to only carry my flowers and the carrying case that held my new crown. While we walked I took the time to pull out my phone and update my social media accounts, letting everyone know that my winning streak was still going strong. It was one step closer on what I hoped would be a path that led me straight to Miss America. Once I was old enough to compete for the crown.

  Chapter 2

  Less than 48 hours later, I was standing in Ashleigh’s den, answering interview questions while I stood in the tallest pair of heels I had ever tried on. They were hot pink and sparkly, which added a lot of flair to my jeans and light blue sweater. Unlike most days during pageant practice I was able to dress casually, aside from the shoes. More often than not, however, I was in full glam. I actually preferred those days, mostly since it didn’t involve as much hard mental work.

  “Please share with us your feelings about the use of metal detectors in high schools,” Ashleigh asked, reading from the top of a stack of notecards. She was sitting on a stool in the corner of the room with a tripod set up next to her so we could watch through my stance, gestures, and facial expressions later.

  “As an 8th grader, knowing that next year I will be entering high school with older students is stressful enough, even without worrying about the threat of weapons or other dangerous items,” I began, speaking with a slow but confident tone. “Although metal detectors sound scary to some people, since they hint at a larger problem, knowing that a school is taking those steps to ensure safety is important to me. The time spent entering a building can in no way diminish the good that can come when students are in an environment where they can focus on learning and growing, instead of what a fellow cl
assmate may or may not have in their backpack. Thank you.”

  In reply Ashleigh gave me a curt nod, but I could see the smile growing on her face as she looked down at the next question. This one was about health and fitness, followed by two more questions that dealt with gun control and safety in the light of recent mass shootings. The subjects were much harder than questions I would face in any junior teen pageant, but my coach always wanted me to be thinking and working ahead. After all, without a good interview you could kiss winning Miss America goodbye.

  “Let’s take a break,” Ashleigh finally suggested with a look at her watch after I answered a question about animal cruelty. “I want to chat about your next pageant.”

  “Atlanta Dreamers,” I replied, taking a seat on the armchair opposite her stool.

  “Maybe,” she said slowly. “I was chatting with some friends last week and there is another pageant that might be a good addition to our schedule. It’s in two weeks, so there’s plenty of time for this one and would still leave prep time before Atlanta Dreamers.”

  “Okay,” I shrugged. “What’s the pageant?”

  “It’s a new one from Southern Spirit Queen.” As Ashleigh spoke she glanced once again at her watch expectantly. “They used to do the Legacy pageant for girls who had been competing for at least 5 years. This year they’re replacing Legacy with a new theme.”

  “And that theme would be?” I asked, trying to hurry Ashleigh along.

  “Welcome To My World.” She paused, but when I didn’t give much of a reaction she continued. “The idea is to have each contestant bring along a friend who has never competed before. You do everything side by side, including talent and on stage interview.”

  “That’s perfect, my friend Kelly will be amazing,” I grinned, already thinking of how to best show off our combined talents of singing and dancing.

  “Kelly would be great,” Ashleigh replied, although I noticed she wasn’t smiling. “But I kind of had someone else in mind.”

  As if on cue there was a ring at the doorbell. In fact, the look on Ashleigh’s face made it look like it really was on cue. She jumped up and headed for the door, telling me she would be right back. And then she all but pranced out of the room. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I simply sat and tried to guess who it might be that she had in mind to be my partner. I knew there were a few girls she was hoping to get into pageants, but having someone I could really relate to would cause chemistry on stage that the judges would be able to see. Not to mention it would help me keep my winning streak alive.

  “She’s right in here,” I heard Ashleigh say, then was shocked to see who entered the room with her.

  A boy I recognized as one of her neighbors stood beside Ashleigh, looking so much in contrast to not only her but the room around her as well. Everything about my coach and her home were polished and pristine, while the boy standing before me was quite a mess. His dark brown hair was shaggy around his face; it looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. As if that wasn’t shocking enough, he had a beard that looked patchy and overgrown that covered the parts of his face not sun weathered or covered up by his large glasses. Combined with his grass stained jeans and camo shirt it was impossible to feel anything but panic rising in me.

  “Jillian, I would like to introduce Ryan Brantley,” Ashleigh said, putting stress on her words. I knew this was because I wasn’t showing any sign of welcoming him. Once I stood and walked forward she continued. “Ryan, this is Jillian Anderson.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said through a forced smile as I shook his hand.

  “Likewise,” he replied, his accent not quite as thick as his rough appearance hinted.

  “Why don’t we go take a seat in the kitchen,” Ashleigh offered, her smile still present despite her somewhat tense expression.

  I nodded, then followed as she led us into the other room. There were muffins and lemonade sitting out on the table, something I didn’t notice earlier since we went right to work on interview prep. Ryan took a seat and dug into a muffin right away, hardly showing table manners in the process. Trying not to focus on it too much, I busied myself pouring three glasses of lemonade until Ashleigh joined us at the table. She sat at the head of the table, with Ryan and I on either side facing one another.

  “Like I mentioned the other day Ryan, here is a little more information on the pageant,” Ashleigh began, handing us each a printout with details. “It’s semi glam, and includes talent and on stage interview so it’s a pretty big deal. Not to mention there is a look of choice outfit to kick things off, so that means three outfits and a lot of stage time. But I think if you’re willing to give it a try it could be just what Jillian needs to get the leg up on the competition.”

  “Are we that worried about the competition?” I asked, trying to make my protest in the least obvious way.

  “For this one, yes,” Ashleigh nodded. “Trisha and Portia Rockwell are both competing, not to mention this is a chance for a whole new crop of girls to come in and start making a name for themselves. But most of all, Sabrina Whitley is one of the judges.”

  “Sorry, what does all of this mean?” Ryan asked after I gasped in reply to Ashleigh’s information.

  “What it all means is that making a good showing or even winning here puts Jillian one step closer to winning Miss Teen Georgia once she’s old enough,” my coach summed it up simply before turning to me. “If you get in front of Sabrina now and give her something to remember, then when you hit the teen stage all eyes will be on you. Not many girls get this kind of chance with Sabrina since she doesn’t judge this kind of event often anymore.”

  “How do I factor in on all of this?” Ryan’s face was a mixture of confusion and almost frustration. It was clear the idea of doing a pageant was only the tip of a rather big iceberg he didn’t realize he was suddenly coming face to face with.

  “I was wondering the same thing,” I nodded.

  “Everyone is going to walk in there with some girl that is itching to be a pageant queen as it is,” Ashleigh began. “Girls that know the world of pageants and can easily clean up and put on a dress to fit in. But walking in with Ryan will be a shock for everyone there, and really make a statement. It will hint that you’re ready to move up in the pageant world, and that you can take on all sorts of challenges.”

  “But don’t you know someone who is a little more what we’re looking for in the end?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I felt a little bad. Not because of what I said, but just because I chose to say them in front of Ryan. “Not that I don’t think you can do it. You just don’t exactly look like the kind of guy that would ever take the stage at a pageant.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he said, with a rather forced looking closed mouth smile. “Ashleigh said it would give me lots of cool bragging rights with my friends so I thought it might be fun to try.”

  I started at him in shock, certain he was kidding. But he wasn’t. The idea that doing a pageant was only fueled by his desire to show his friends that he was cool was odd. Not to mention I couldn’t decide what would even give him bragging rights to begin with. Was it the girls in dresses? The prize money? Or maybe it was all some kind of dare or way to one up his buddies. Either way, I was getting more annoyed by the second.

  “Even if we put him in a suit and clean him up there is still talent and interview,” I reminded Ashleigh, although I was confident she was aware of both facts.

  “Talent is easy enough,” Ashleigh said quickly. “Ryan plays guitar so he can accompany you for a song. Interview can be coached easily enough. At a pageant with this kind of theme the questions are sure to be predictable enough.”

  “Well, I’m game to try it,” Ryan said, his mouth half full of muffin.

  “Perfect,” my coach grinned. “We can get started tomorrow afternoon. If we start with a good suit it will all be smooth sailing from there.”

  “So that’s it?” I asked, staring at my coach in shock.

  “Basically,” s
he nodded.

  I knew then that meeting Ryan and asking if we were interested in the pageant was pretty much a formality. Ashleigh’s plan had been official before she even asked me, just like the many times before when she had made the executive decision. Which was usually fine. But in this case, it was the worst possible decision. Doing a buddy pageant with a newcomer was challenging enough, but to do so with someone like the boy sitting across the table from me? That would be almost impossible. Yet, it was a situation I found myself in all the same.

  “Time to get up Max, or we’re going to be late.”

  With a groan, I rolled over in my bed, reaching to grab my phone off my nightstand. I expected to quickly do the math on how much longer I had until my alarm was going to go off, but was shocked to see it was almost 10 am. Sitting up and hopping out of bed in one swift movement, I scrolled through my phone to see I had missed my alarm, a few text messages, and even a call from my best friend Lexi.

  “How did this happen?” I muttered the words to myself as I tossed my phone onto my bed and raced into my closet. I could hear a not so happy cat run out of it thanks to the sudden wake up, but I had other things to worry about. Pulling off my pajamas, I quickly slipped on my black shorts and black tank top that were thankfully sitting on my sparkly teal backpack. Inside the bag were my shoes, uniform, and everything else I needed for the day. Or rather everything but my makeup and hair products. I quickly grabbed those items from my bathroom before all but running into the kitchen where my dad sat drinking coffee.