As soon as I got to her; she started to ask what happened but I didn’t respond. The last thing she needs is an extra reason to be self conscious and hate the event more.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nathan whisper something to the photographer that made all color bleed out of his face.
Nathan rejoined us just as we made our way into the building. I waited until we got to our assigned seats before I leaned in and asked the question that had been plaguing me.
“What did you tell him?”
“That isn’t important; but you should try to calm down your homicidal tendencies.” He whispered, “The man probably thinks you’re a closeted serial killer.”
“He deserved it; but don’t change the subject. What did you tell him?”
He finally turned to me and I didn’t realize how closely I head leaned in until he was facing me and our faces were so close that our noses were almost touching. I cleared my throat and moved back a little.
“It’s not important,” he said after a beat of silence, “Francine is coming this way.”
I looked up and sure enough Francine was coming our way. She pulled me into a short hug and thanked me for showing up thenshowed me where the other judges were sitting. She kept us as far away from each other as she could. I wondered if that was because she didn’t want us influencing each other’s decisions or for other reasons. I’m betting on the latter.
She handed me a small pad with all the contestants names printed out and what categories I was going to judge them based on. I thanked her and she turned to Nathan and exchanged pleasantries with him for a few minutes and as quickly as she came, she left.
“How are you feeling about this?” Nathan asked just as the event was about to start and I shrugged.
“Are you really doing this here?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I’m nervous but I’m also excited. It’s a really big event.”
When I said that I instantly thought of Marissa; I turned to make sure she was fine but she was deep in conversation with a lady next to her. I didn’t recognize her but I let out a sigh of relief that Marissa was having fun. At that exact moment, the lights went out and the show began.
It was four hours before we went on the first break and I decided to get a drink. When the show was starting I thought it would be a piece of cake but I was wrong.
I didn’t realize judging would be this hard but then again, I should have realized. This is the opportunity of a lifetime and everyone is bringing out their best. The people here are so talented and it is overwhelming. It is going to be so hard picking a winner at the end.
Marissa went with me to get drinks but went ahead when I was stopped by one of the judges- Emilia Anderson. She was in a silver dress fit for a queen and her hair was in a perfect chignon at thebase of her neck. It was so good to talk to her and in the short conversation I realized why people referred to her as a sweetheart.
She spoke like she was living in the clouds and her voice was like a breath of fresh air. She made a lot of gestures as she spoke and she spoke with a childlike wonder. The highlight of the conversation was when she complimented my dress.
I barely had time to thank her when she was whisked away into another conversation. I decided to use the opportunity to catch up with Marissa. I didn’t find her but I noticed one of the judges- Mark talking to a contestant.
From her body language, she wanted to be anywhere but there so I quickly injected myself into the conversation.
“Hi, Mark right?” I stretched out my hand to his, “It’s nice to meet you.” He eyed my hand with distaste but finally took it, “Can I borrow her for a second? I promise she will back soon.”
He waved us off and I pulled her to the nearest bathroom. As soon as the door clicked shut, the tears she was holding back finally broke free and she buried her face into my shoulder. I wasn’t sure how to react so I just held her and let her cry.
“I’m so sorry,” she sniffled as she pulled away after a while, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“It’s okay; it’s a tough competition.”
“It’s not the competition,” she realized what she said because she cleared her throat, “I mean you’re right; it is a tough competition.
“What did he say to you?”
She hesitated and started biting her nails, “I don’t want to be a snitch.”
I gently pulled her hand away from her mouth and she offered me an awkward chuckle, “I’m listening.”
“In summary, he said I would have better luck as a garbage woman than in the fashion world.” She gave me a watery smile, “It’s okay; I’ll be fine. I’ve probably heard worse from other people but then again- other people aren’t Mark Vasiliev.”
