Pryscilla sat silently looking out of the window as her mother drove her home from the Little Miss American Princess pageant. She had smiled her prettiest, walked as she had learned in modelling class, and tried to appear smart as well as cute and charming in the on-stage interview. All those months of work, and she still came home with the first runner-up trophy while Missy Valentina got the tiara.
She waited, hoping her mom would give words of encouragement, "We'll get it next year" or "First runner-up out of all those girls is still a great accomplishment" perhaps.
Instead her mom heaved a sigh. "You rushed across the stage during evening gown. That's probably why you didn't win. Now all that money is wasted." Pryscilla hung her head.
At home she looked in the mirror, preparing to wash off her makeup, and Pryscilla realized that despite the expertly applied makeup and hair done by the best stylist, she felt uglier than ever.

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