“Mom, I didn’t mean to say that she was ugly… I mean, I just wanted her to be realistic about her chances.  I love her just the way she is. She is beautiful in her own way.” 

Despite my attempts to explain the situation, the look on my mother’s face didn’t change one bit: disappointment and hurt mixed with a healthy tinge of anger. 

“We raised you better than that, Brittney. You’re Beauti’s best friend. You’re the last person she expected to hear those words from.” 

“I’m sorry. I can go over there and apologize.” 

“Oh, you bet you will, young lady. That’s the least you can do. And apologize to her mother, too. You should have heard the pain in her voice when she called me.” 

Once again, I was misunderstood. I thought friends were honest with each other. Beauti didn’t act like anything I said had hurt her. She had just shrugged and kept looking at her phone. 

Beauti was the type of person who never said anything bad about anyone. She was always willing to help people, and she had a very positive outlook on life. Very smart, she tutored many of the students in our class. Most people really liked her.  Even though she didn’t have classic beauty features, she still carried herself in a confident manner. I think that’s what attracted people to her. 

The Miss Libertyville High Pageant was a big deal at our high school. Mrs. Lofton, the teacher in charge of the program, had worked hard to get the program approved. She was a former local beauty pageant winner and thought the program would be valuable to girls interested in learning poise and grace in public settings.  

Since I dreamed of becoming a broadcast journalist, I felt the program would help me with public speaking. I was also excited about the opportunity to showcase my singing talent.  So, when I told Beauti that I was thinking about auditioning, she said she was too.  

I had looked at her in disbelief. Even though the physical beauty aspect was being downplayed, everyone knew that would count big time.   

I didn’t recall using the word ugly, but I just stated the obvious: looks would go a long way. I asked her if she understood that. I explained that she didn’t fit the typical mold of beauty — especially in a high school that was 70% white. Beauti was extremely dark skinned and wore her hair in a natural afro. And on top of that she was on the chubby side. I had just wanted to spare her the harshness of rejection.   

On the other hand, I knew my fair complexion, long hair, and good looks might get me into one of the top three spots.  Guys of different races seemed to be attracted to me, so I felt I could win. I would not have tried if I didn’t think my looks could pass the test.   

All I wanted for my friend was to see this pageant for what it was. Even though it was presented as an opportunity for all and that it would not be based on appearance, I knew the real deal. People are biased when it comes to physical beauty. That’s just the way it is. Why would our high school pageant be any different? 

“Beauti, open up.”

I stood outside her bedroom door, hoping she would speak to me. Before I knew it, the door slowly opened. I saw her return to her bed and plop down. I closed the door behind me and thought about what I should say. 

“You still coming to the mall with me tomorrow?” I took the coward’s way out at first. 

She looked at me with eyes that seemed sad, and then she said something that shocked me. “I’m going to win. You know that, right?” 

Say what? I was stunned at the sheer confidence and determination I heard in her voice.   

“Beauti, I—” 

“You don’t have to apologize. I know you were just putting your foot in your mouth, as you sometimes do.” She broke into a smile. 

“I didn’t mean it like I said it.” 

“Yes, you did. But that’s okay. I was hurt at first, but I don’t stay down long. My faith keeps me strong. God told me I’m going to win.” 

“But look at what you’re up against. Most of the school is white, and—“ 

“And since you’re almost—”  

“Don’t go there!” 

“Well, you are so light you could almost pass, you know.” 

“No, I don’t know!”

I felt the anger rising. I hated when people teased me about my skin color. I often felt like an outsider, especially when my own people jokingly referred to me as being white. Not that I had anything against whites or anybody else for that matter. I just needed to be viewed and accepted for who I was: a proud American. Now she had ticked me off. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re jealous of me.” 

Beauti’s eyes became as big as saucers. “Say what?” 

“You know what I’m talking about. Like when we go to the mall and the guys give me all the attention. I watch how you react.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Britt.” 

“Yes, you do. I see how sad you look when they’re not paying attention to you. Which, by the way, proves my point.  We’re all being judged by how we look.” 

“Sad? You’re wrong about that. What you see is my disappointment in how you act when you get all that attention.” 

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with how I act.” 

“It’s really pitiful. A couple of years ago, when you were overweight, with pimples and crooked teeth, no one would look at you. You were the one who looked sad and miserable. Now that you’ve changed, you act so foolish, batting your eyelashes and acting like you’re God’s gift to men.” 

“I cannot believe you just said that.” 

There was a long moment of silence. I felt bad about lashing out at my friend, but I didn’t like the things she had said to me, either.

Apparently Beauti regretted her words as well.  She spoke first. 

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. Listen, none of that matters. Besides, we’re getting off the point, which is that you don’t like being labeled any more than I do. And yet you have the nerve to try to place limits on me because I don’t look like everyone else. It doesn’t feel good when it’s done to you, does it?” 

I remained quiet for a moment. She was right. But win?  She must be living in some fantasy world if she believed that. But it was time to calm the waters. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry for what I said, too. And, apparently, I misread you. I guess it’s good you have so much confidence and self-assurance. I’m sure inner qualities will count just as much as outward appearance.”  Although I spoke the words, I couldn’t convince myself they were true. 

“Yeah, going to the mall tomorrow is cool with me.” 

I had forgotten I had asked, but I was glad she decided to change the subject. 

“But just one thing. I saw Miriam after class. She said you told her we weren’t going to the mall. Why did you tell her that?” 

“You really want her hanging around with us? You see how she dresses — like something out of the 80’s. And she walks slumped over as if apologizing for occupying space on earth.  She depresses me. We’re going to the mall to have fun… maybe meet some cute guys.” 

“Brittney, come on!  That’s so wrong of you.  How would you feel if you were excluded from something based on your looks? And so what if she is on the timid side?” 

“What is this? Beat up Brittney Day? All right, if you want her to come, call her and tell her.” 

“It’s too late. I don’t have her number.” 

“Well, next time I’ll invite her if it’ll make you feel better.” 

“It’s not about making me feel better, it’s about treating people the way you want to be treated. Sometimes I don’t even know why I hang with you. At times, you can do some of the most caring and generous things and then other times—”   

Beauti didn’t need to finish the sentence. Her sigh said it all. Not willing to take any more criticism, I decided it was time to go. 

“Again, I’m sorry. Still friends?” 

“Yes. Still friends,” Beauti said. 

I started to head out. 

“Where are you going?   

I turned to look at her and saw a warm smile on her face. 

“Look, let’s not let our differences come between us.  We’re bigger than that. Besides, I need you to stay. I have some things I want to try on you.” 

Good. After all that serious talk, I was ready for some fun. 

Beauti was always knitting or sewing something and would try whatever she made on me. A knit cap, or a crocheted scarf.  Sometimes she made beautiful jewelry–mostly necklaces and earrings made with African beads. She was very talented, and I enjoyed being her “model.”   

We spent the rest of our time laughing and taking photos as we tried on her newest creations. Our Instagram and Facebook friends were in for a treat. 

On Saturday, when I returned from the mall, my mother was seated on the sofa in the living room. She seemed troubled. 

“What’s wrong, Mom?” 

“Have a seat, Britt.” 

I sat next to her, expecting another lecture about my hurtful words to Beauti. Instead I got news I had been waiting to hear for over a year. 

“Your dad’s coming home.” 

“What? That’s great! I miss him so much. Aren’t you excited?” She nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. “Why don’t you seem happy about it?” 

“There’s something I need to tell you. You see, a few weeks ago, your dad was injured in an accident.” 

My dad was serving in the military over in the Middle East. I tried not to worry about him all the time. Our occasional video chats always gave me hope that he was going to be okay and would return home to us for good at some point. 

“What kind of accident? He is going to be okay, isn’t he?” 

“Yes, he should be fine.” 

“Wait — a few weeks ago? And you’re just telling me now?  Does Sonya know?” 

“Yes, I told your sister when it happened.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Mom, I’m 16. I can handle more than you think.” 

“To me, you’re still my little girl. And you certainly act like a little girl sometimes…” 

“Mom—”  

“Anyway, your sister is grown and on her own. I felt I could talk to her about what I was going through and about what your Dad was facing. I just wanted you to finish out the school year. Since I knew he wasn’t coming home right away, I felt it could wait.” 

“You still didn’t tell me what kind of accident. How was he injured?” 

My mom looked at me, as if trying to decide whether I could handle the truth. Apparently, she decided I couldn’t. 

“Honey, you’ll see him next week. He’ll explain everything to you then. He’s handling it with a very positive attitude. I need you to be positive and strong for him, as well.” 

“So that’s why we haven’t video chatted in a while.” 

“Yes, sweetheart. But we’re all going to stick together and help your dad through this.” 

I nodded, not knowing what the future would hold. My mom was putting on a front for me, but I could sense how worried she really was. I couldn’t imagine the extent of his injuries, but I would see for myself soon.     

“And one more thing. You know your father isn’t too keen about you participating in this beauty pageant.” 

“Mom, it’s more than a beauty pageant.” 

“Whatever. I’m just warning you that he might try to talk you out of it.” 

“But I thought you said—” 

“Yes, he reluctantly agreed to allow you to enter the pageant. But he’s not happy about it.  I just wanted you to be aware.” 

As I headed to my bedroom, I hoped that Dad would forget the pageant. There were so many other things I wanted to talk to him about. Besides, it had been too long since I saw him. Now that he was coming home, he might be able to attend the father-daughter dance at school in a few weeks.  

I loved showing him off whenever we were in public. He always looked so handsome and pulled together. When we’d go to get ice cream or something, I would watch women admire him.   

I convinced myself that whatever the injury, he would get well one day and be back to his old self. Excitement filled my heart at the thought of seeing him in a few days.