Last Place: Part Two

     “Rise and shine, baby sister!” she shouted, loud enough to wake the neighbors.

     A long, loud groan erupted from beneath the bed sheets. Cherie approached and tore them away, revealing the blue Kau, curled up into a fetal position, clutching the pillow for dear life.

     “Come on, Cora! Up and at ‘em!”

     Cora’s eyes blinked open. She lifted her head just enough to read the numbers on her bedside clock.

     “Cherie,” she groaned, “it’s six AM.”

     “So it is— bravo! You get a gold star for the morning! Now get up.”

     Cora struggled to sit up on her mattress. “It’s six AM,” she repeated. “It’s too early.”

     The Faerie Kau shook her head and wagged her finger. “Oh, no, no, no,” she chided, “if anything, it’s too late. Some pets get up at midnight on beauty contest mornings to groom and get an early jump on voting. Yes, if anything, I’ve let you sleep in late— aren’t I the best sister?” She flashed a toothy grin at Cora and shoved a plateful of eggs at her. “Now get up and eat up; you’re going to need your strength.”

     Cora took the plate of eggs and stared at it. Meanwhile, her bustling sister whipped a brush out from nowhere and began combing at her hair.

     “Oh,” Cherie hummed, brushing at the thicket of brown hair ,“you really ought to have cut your hair, Cora. It’s getting to be pretty long. Short cuts for girls are all the rage now, anyway— we see it all the time down at the beauty parlor.”

     “It’s bad enough you entered me into this stupid contest, and woke me up at the crack of dawn this morning— now you’re criticizing my hairstyle choices?” Cora was beginning to wake up; she equipped her fork and tucked into the eggs. Every few moments she stopped chewing to cry out in pain as Cherie tore through her tangled hair.

     “I’m not criticizing you, dear. I’m simply telling you what the styles are. I should know, after all. I work at the hub of Neopia’s rising fashion scene.”

     “Sure you do.”

     The conversation went similarly throughout Cherie’s various stages of grooming. After brushing and styling Cora’s hair, she clipped her nails, applied a heavy coating of makeup, and fitted her into what she thought was a nice looking outfit. Standing back to look at her handiwork, the Faerie Kau’s voice practically shook with excitement.

     “Oh, baby sister, you look absolutely fabulous!” she cooed, steering her sister over to a mirror. “Make way everybody— here comes CORA the KAU!”

     Cora took a look at herself in the mirror and raised her eyebrows. She never thought she’d be caught dead in such a getup; now, seeing herself in a skirt and eyeliner, she had to admit she wasn’t too bad on the eyes.

     “Not too shabby, huh?”

     “I suppose not,” she admitted. “Now what?”

     “Now we get down to the Contest Hall.” The Faerie Kau let out a gasp as she caught sight of the bedside clock. “Oh, great-- come on, slowpoke, we’re losing precious time!” She grasped her sister’s arm and yanked her out the door.

     ---

     By the time the sisters reached the Contest Hall, it was swarming. Contestants, judges, prospective voters, alone and in big groups, all hurriedly entered and exited as the door nearly swung off its hinges. Cherie, with Cora in tow, shouldered her way to the front of the masses and approached the airy Kacheek who sat at the administration desk.

     “Registration number?” she hummed. Cherie placed the slip bearing ‘52’ on the counter. The Kacheek glanced at it, then gestured them off with a nod of the head. “Down the hall, take a right.”

     As she walked down the hall, Cora began to glance around at her surroundings. The hall was filled with rows of tables, arranged by species, each manned by a different contest contestant. As voters wandered down the aisles of contestants, each one tried to grab his or her attention by flashing a smile, striking a pose or saying something sugary-sweet or adorable. Cora cringed, unable to stomach the sight of it.

     “Quit gritting your teeth like that, Cora,” chided Cherie, “it’s unbecoming.”

     Cora shook her head. “It’s just... appalling to see these pets degrading themselves so for a moment’s worth of attention. I mean, look at them— they’re practically begging! Like wild animals! And it’s not hard to see where all the attention’s really going...” Her eyes shifted toward a Faerie Lupe’s booth, which had a crowd of about twenty voters surrounding it. “Despicable.”

     “Well, you could at least stand to smile. Anyone who sees you could be a voter. Frowny people don’t get votes.”

     “What does it matter? I told you before, I’m coming in last, anyway.”

     “Of course you are. Come on, here’s your table.”

     It was a plain, white, rectangular fold-out table with a plain, black fold-out chair behind it. Cora sank into the chair and folded her arms against her chest.

     “Sit up straight in your chair, Cora, and smile pretty like I told you.” Cherie smiled. “I’ll be back this evening to pick you up. And just... try to enjoy yourself, all right?” She blew the blue Kau a kiss and then disappeared back into the sea of attendees.

     Cora sighed, frowned, and slumped forward in her chair, thinking of all the places she’d rather have been and things she’d rather have been doing. Her eyes scanned the room: about twenty other tables were set up around her, each manned by a similarly frilly-looking member of her species. The other Kaus giggled, blushed, and waved at incoming voters, engaging them with chatter and pushing their ballot boxes forward invitingly.

     “Just look at them,” Cora muttered to herself. “They should be ashamed of themselves.”

     “Who should be afraid of whose selves?”

     Cora jumped several feet and let out a startled yelp. She whipped her newly-coiffed head around to see a yellow Kau smiling at her, sitting at the next booth over.

     “Uh, nobody. Nothing. Who’re you?”

     “I’m Candace,” the stranger replied, her smile widening. “Who’re you?”

     “Cora.”

     “Nice to meet you, Cora. I haven’t seen you in the contest before so I’m going to assume you’re new here? Which, in that case, welcome to the BC!”

     “Yeah,” sighed Cora, sinking back into her slumped-over position, “thanks.”

     A somewhat concerned look fell upon Candace’s face. She scooched her chair over toward Cora and tilted her head. “What’s the matter? Somebody doesn’t look too excited to be here!”

     Annoyed, tired, and desperately wanting to go home, Cora clenched her teeth again. “No, really?” she fumed. “Somebody’s not excited to be here? After somebody’s sister woke her up at six, dressed her in these doll clothes and dragged her here? Even though somebody didn’t ask to be signed up for this mind-numbingly stupid contest in the first place? Oh, no, I think somebody’s actually just tickled pink to be here if you asked me!”

     Cora let out a gigantic seething sigh. Candace, despite having just been shouted at, seemed wholly unfazed.

     “Does somebody want to talk about it?” she queried.

     Cora remained silent for a few moments, her expression both frustrated and pensive. She stared straight forward, into the abyss of other contestants, before finally asking, “Why do you do it?”

     “Why... what?”

     “Why do you come here?” She looked at the other Kau. “Why do you enter these contests? Doesn’t it feel... I don’t know... degrading in any way?”

     “Degrading?” Candace gave an emphatic shake of her head. “Why, of course not! If I thought it was degrading, why would I be here in the first place?”

     Cora opened her mouth to speak, but hedged... come to think about it, that was a good point. Her mouth fell closed.

     “Do you want to know why I really enter these contests?” Candace asked. “It’s because I like having something to get dressed up for. It’s because I like meeting new people and having conversations with strangers and getting to know the other contestants. And because it feels good to be complimented and voted for— even though I haven't won a single contest!”

     “But,” Cora said, desperately trying to defend her point, “what about those poor pets who enter and don’t get any votes at all? That must be devastating.”

     Candace shrugged. “It happens to a lot of us. Happened to me my first time entering. Sure, it was a little disappointing. But you try again.” She considered a moment, then added, “You know the real reason pets don’t get any votes? It’s because they’re too shy, or their heart's not into it. I mean, if you put yourself out there, engage the voters, be charismatic— you’ll get a few votes just for taking the time to talk to them and make them smile. The voters really aren’t as shallow as you think they are.”

     Cora blinked, her mind clicking as she slowly processed all of this. Her eyes shifted back to the roomful of Kaus. Upon second glance, the girls didn’t look quite so desperate or shameful. They actually looked... friendly? Happy? Like they were enjoying themselves, perhaps?

     “Hey, Cora,” Candace smiled, moving back toward her own table, “you’ve got a visitor!”

     The blue Kau looked up— there stood a spotted Wocky, inspecting her ballot box curiously. He met her eyes as she shuffled to compose herself.

     “Hello.” He smiled.

     “Uh— hi,” Cora said, sitting up straight in her chair. She snuck a quick glance over at Candace, who gave her the OK sign. Turning back, she offered her hand to shake. “Hi. I’m Cora. How are you?”

     “Nice to meet you, Cora. I’m Bradley.” He took her hand and shook it. “I’m doing all right. Just walking around, checking out all the contestants. How’s business?”

     “Er... not so good,” she replied, shaking her empty ballot box. “You’re the first ‘customer’ I’ve had all day.”

     “Oh, really? Do I get some sort of prize for that?” he chuckled.

     A small smile broke across Cora’s face. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, “I left all the prizes at home! Tough luck.”

     “Ah, darn it.” He was still smiling; his hand moved over toward her ballot box. “Well, I suppose I won’t let that affect my objectivity when voting...”

     “Wait!” Cora’s hands wrapped around the box. “Er, sorry— I told my sister that I wanted to come in last place this week.”

     “What?” He tilted his head. “Why?”

     “It’s a long story.”

     Bradley tapped his finger against his chin. “Well, here,” he finally said, taking a ballot and signing his name to it. He folded it in half and placed it on the table. “It’s yours, if you decide to use it or not.”

     Cora looked from him to the slip of paper and back, her face full of surprise. “Thank you,” she said. She sounded humbled.

     “No problem.” He grinned warmly. “It was very nice talking to you, Cora.”

     The spotted Wocky left, and Cora watched him go, before taking the small ballot into her hands. She looked it over and felt it, as though to ensure it was real. The paper crackled in her hand.

     For a few moments she just held it and looked at it, smiling. Then, very carefully, she slid it into her pocket.

To be continued...