9. Pageant Princess #2
I can’t help but chuckle seeing Brielle inside that ridiculous outfit, complete with an oversized beak and tiny flippers instead of arms. The costume is so puffy she can barely walk, taking exaggerated side-to-side steps that immediately have the room erupting in laughter.
“For my talent,” she says, voice muffled by the costume, “I’ll be demonstrating the complex mating dance of the Emperor penguin, which requires precise balance and—”
She attempts what looks like a spin but tips sideways like a bowling pin. For a horrifying moment, I think she’s going to roll off the stage, but then she’s flat on her back, flippers waving helplessly in the air. I have to stop myself from jumping up and going to her rescue.
“Houston, we have a problem,” she calls out, her voice a blend of embarrassment and humor.
Skye rushes over, trying to help her up, but the costume is so unwieldy that she can’t get leverage. Brielle begins flapping her flipper arms wildly.
“I’m flying!” she declares dramatically. “Look, I’m flying! Take that, evolution!”
The room is in stitches now, with even some of the women who usually look at her with thinly veiled hostility giggling. Skye finally manages to get her upright with an exaggerated grunt of effort.
“As I was saying,” Brielle continues, taking an elaborate bow that nearly topples her again, “penguins are fascinating creatures. Has anyone seen the documentary Romancing the Penguins ?”
Of course I have, but all I do is give her a slight nod.
She begins to waddle in a circle, the costume squeaking with each movement.
“Emperor penguins have one of nature’s most beautiful mating rituals,” she says, her voice taking on that passionate tone I love. “They’re monogamous during mating season, choosing one partner they stay loyal to through the harshest conditions imaginable.”
She attempts another spin, more successful this time.
“The male guards the egg while the female travels up to fifty miles to find food. When she returns, they recognize each other through their unique calls.” Brielle makes a surprisingly accurate penguin squawk. “Even among thousands of identical-looking penguins, they find their one true mate.”
“And did you know,” I say, unable to help myself, “that some penguin species form same-sex pairs? They’ll even adopt abandoned eggs together.”
Brielle’s eyes light up through the costume’s face opening.
“Exactly! Life finds a way, even in the harshest environments. Penguins teach us about devotion, perseverance, and finding joy in difficult circumstances. Plus, they look like they’re wearing tuxedos all the time, which is objectively adorable. ”
As she continues her passionate penguin lecture, waddling around the stage, I’m struck by the contrast between her performance and everyone else’s.
While the others tried to impress me with sexy dancing, Star Wars references, dangerous stunts—Brielle just..
. showed up as herself. And now, I just saw an entirely new side of her that I love—weird, smart, funny, and unafraid to look ridiculous.
I’ve never wanted to kiss someone in a penguin costume so badly in my life.
When she finishes with an exaggerated bow that does, in fact, tip her over again, this time she rolls with it, literally doing a full somersault in the inflatable suit, the room fills with applause and laughter. Even I’m clapping, unable to keep the grin off my face.
“That was creatively educational,” I tell her as Skye helps her back to her spot. “And brave.”
Brielle gives me a small, knowing smile. “Thanks.”
As all the women line up for my decision, I’m faced with the impossible choice.
They’re all looking at me expectantly—Gabby with confident assurance, Serena with intellectual interest, Annabelle with hopeful anticipation, Luna with smoldering intensity, Kavita with dignified poise, and Brielle with that penguin costume deflating slightly around her shoulders. She knows I can’t pick her.
“I want to thank everyone for sharing their talents today,” I begin, stalling, because I can’t make a decision. “You all impressed me in different ways.”
My eyes move from face to face, avoiding Brielle. “The winner of today’s challenge, and my date for tomorrow night, is...” I take a deep breath. “Annabelle.”
The redhead’s hands fly to her mouth, her eyes immediately welling with tears—happy ones this time. The other women offer congratulations with varying degrees of sincerity.
“Your bravery was incredible,” I tell Annabelle, meaning it. “Going for something dangerous, staying focused even when things didn’t go perfectly—that takes real courage.”
As the women begin to disperse, my eyes find Brielle waddling away, penguin costume rustling with each step. Somehow, she makes even that look dignified.
This show was supposed to be part career move, a chance to raise my profile as a photographer, part possibly finding someone compatible in the process. I wasn’t supposed to actually develop feelings this complex, this confusing, this genuine, this fast.
I sit in the interview chair, plastering on my camera-ready smile and preparing to tell the truth: that many women impressed me today, and I had a hard time picking a winner.
My feelings are a ball of confusion, and August would definitely not approve.
But then again, August isn’t the one trapped in this gilded cage of my own making, a place where being ripped up inside is the point.