Imperfections by Bradley Somer Read Free Book Online Page B

We exited stage right.
    Mother met me on the other side of the curtain. I knew I did well because she sported a big smile.
    â€œThat was wonderful,” she exclaimed, almost knocking over Bee Girl to give me a hug.
    â€œThanks,” I said. “It was fun.”
    â€œNext thing you know you will be wearing Ralph Lauren in London.” She beamed with distant eyes. “I don’t know if that girl will make it though.” She cast a critical glance at the Bee.
    â€œI couldn’t see Father,” I said. “The lights were too bright.”
    â€œThat’s okay, honey. I’m sure he was there. I’m so proud of you. You were fabulous.”
    â€œI think I messed up a bit at the beginning.” I glanced at Bee Girl.
    The announcer had called her Abigail.
    â€œDon’t worry, baby. I think we just need to practise a little. I can see you in Azzedine in ten years, in Paris. Or maybe Thierry Mugler in Milan.” Mother’s eyes wandered toward the ceiling. “Oh, don’t forget your mother when you reach the runway, dear.”
    â€œOkay, Mother,” I said, a little confused, having never seen her like this before.
    There was a moment before she said, “I am so happy.”
    That’s what it was. I swelled with pride. I made her happy. I wanted that moment to last forever.
    Eight more pairs of Little Misses and Little Misters crossed the stage before we were all brought out before the judges for their decision. When it was our turn, Bee Girl and I walked out onstage holding hands, more out of anticipation than nervous support. We stood under the spotlight. The temperature in the tent had risen past hot to stifling. Sweat rolled tickly trails down the small of my back. The Bee glanced at me out of the corner of her eye and smiled. I caught her eye and held it for a moment before smiling back.
    â€œLittle Mister Forty-Seven and Little Miss Sixty-Two…” a judge announced to us and started shuffling papers.
    In that break, awaiting judgment, I gave the crowd a quick scan. I thought I saw Auntie Maggie waving at me. The judge flipped through papers. Beside Auntie Maggie was a smaller figure that must have been Leonard. The judge continued shuffling, a scowl crossed her face. I couldn’t see Father or Uncle Tony in the crowd.  
    â€œAh,” the judge exclaimed, “you have both passed on to the talent round.” She smiled at us.
    With that, the Bee and I rushed offstage. There was still a crowd of kids to be judged but I couldn’t see how they did because Mother whipped me back into the corral and behind one of the screens. My clothes were gone again and I was being wrapped in leather pants, a white T-shirt, and a black and red leather jacket with colours that made a V on my chest.
    â€œYou were so good. I knew you were going on to the talent part,” Mother fussed. “I can’t believe that girl made it though. You really pulled her through.”  
    Someone walked by the screen and it billowed out. A boy milling about outside pointed at me and poked his mother to get her attention. I flushed. The curtain fell back.
    â€œDo you remember the routine?”
    â€œYes.” We had only practised it every spare moment for two weeks.
    â€œRemember it’s not just about going through the steps. You have to feel the moment, make it yours. Those judges have to see your character, you, shining through. Make them fall in love with you. Want them to fall in love with you and they will. You can perform perfectly and not make that connection. You need to connect with them. Let them know you. Let them in. That’s the way to win.” Mother fussed over the leather jacket.  
    My outfit cost $300, a fact Father wouldn’t let us forget for an hour after we bought it.  
    â€œCoulda’ got a full set of hockey gear for that much,” he had puffed.
    I nodded as Mother sat back on her heels for a final look. She