Chapter Seven All eyes on me
1115 Words
Marlow James’s POV
Three weeks.
That’s how long it took for everything to flip.
Chelsea was still wearing the crown, sure—but it was starting to tilt. And I wasn’t even trying to grab it. Not yet.
I had bigger things to focus on.
Like the pageant.
The real arena.
Not the social climb at Parkhurst High or the constant whispers from The Feed—no. This was sequins, posture, precision. This was where girls who smiled with their teeth sharpened behind them actually thrived.
And today?
Today was my day.
I stood backstage in a long hallway of white light and whispers, surrounded by girls who’d been preparing their entire lives to win the same title I’d already claimed in two other states. Their hairspray hung in the air like fog. Their fake smiles didn’t quite reach their eyes. And all of them were watching me.
Even when they pretended not to.
My gown—deep emerald silk with a slit just scandalous enough—clung to me like a second skin. Miss Delaney, my mentor-s***h-former-beauty-queen-turned-pageant-whisperer, was hovering beside me, doing final touch-ups like she was painting a masterpiece.
“You were born for this,” she whispered, tightening a pin in my hair. “Forget Chelsea. Forget Parkhurst High. This is your kingdom.”
I nodded once. Because she was right.
This wasn’t high school.
This was my stage.
When they called my name for the talent portion, I walked out with a kind of grace that was practically copyrighted. I smiled like I already knew I’d win. Because honestly? I did.
Even the judges straightened a little.
And when I finished—after the applause, after the dimming lights—I saw them.
In the crowd.
Chelsea. Arms crossed, teeth clenched like she was chewing back envy.
Savannah beside her, whispering something that made Chelsea’s jaw tighten.
And then—
Milo.
Leaning back like none of this was a big deal, one arm slung casually over the back of the chair. But he was watching me.
With full attention.
Not the “wow-she’s-hot” kind.
The “who is she really” kind.
And for some reason…
That landed heavier than the judges’ stares.
Flashes went off like fireworks. I barely blinked. I had practiced this smile for years. Not too smug. Not too surprised. Just the perfect mix of grace and obviously, I deserved this.
I could hear whispers as I stepped offstage.
“She really won?”
“Honestly… she slayed.”
“Did you see the talent? No one else came close.”
“That girl from Parkhurst—yeah, her.”
The other contestants were clapping, but their smiles didn’t meet their eyes. One girl actually turned away as I passed. I didn’t blame her. Losing stings.
Miss Delaney caught me in the hallway before I could get swarmed. Her hands cupped my shoulders. “I told you,” she said softly, almost in awe. “You weren’t born to blend in, Marlow. You were made to win.”
And this?
This was just the beginning.
⸻
Back in the audience, I found them.
Chelsea. Sitting frozen, one hand still halfway up from a limp clap. Her mouth was tight, but her eyes were calculating. Like she was redoing the math in her head: Can I still be queen if my friend is crowned somewhere else?
Savannah, on the other hand, was glowing like she had just won. She stood first, clapping hard, a proud almost-sister kind of energy on her face.
And then—
Milo.
He didn’t clap right away. Just watched. Head tilted like he was trying to figure me out all over again. Like whatever he thought he knew about me just got rewritten in real time.
When our eyes met, he smirked.
Not in a smug way. In a huh kind of way.
Like, So that’s what you’ve been hiding.
⸻
By the time I returned to the dressing area, my phone was blowing up.
Texts. DMs. Mentions.
THE FEED had already posted it—because of course they had.
🔥 BREAKING: Marlow James takes the crown!
Parkhurst High’s newest it-girl just won Miss Emerald Valley Teen 2025.
Talent? Check.
Look? Unmatched.
Confidence? Off the charts.
Guess Chelsea’s not the only queen anymore… 👑👀
The comments were already wild:
“She ate that stage.”
“Honestly, kinda obsessed with her now.”
“Parkhurst just got real.”
And then there it was.
A new update on the Popularity Tier Board.
I was no longer just Chelsea’s friend.
No longer a maybe.
Marlow James – Tier 1 — Official Crowned Queen Energy 👑
I stared at it, smiling to myself.
I hadn’t just walked into Parkhurst High.
I had stormed it.
And something told me—
This was going to change everything.
t didn’t take long for a new tier update to hit the Feed.
Chelsea always claimed she didn’t care about the rankings—even though she checked them obsessively, even though she’d flipped on a girl once for dropping from Tier 2 to Tier 3 after an outfit repeat.
But this? This was different.
The graphic was sleek and brutal. Bold letters. Gold trim. And that little flaming crown emoji they only use when something major shifts.
⸻
🧬 PARKHURST SOCIAL TIER UPDATE — POST-PAGEANT EDITION 👑🔥
TOP GIRLS (TIER 1)
• Marlow James — Official pageant royalty. Untouchable.
• Chelsea Blackwell — Still queen, but the throne just got crowded.
• Savannah Cole — Loyal bestie vibes, glow-up pending.
TIER 2
• Giselle M. — Quiet but pretty. Chelsea-adjacent.
• Alana T. — One fashion miss away from slipping.
• Becca L. — Cute but forgettable.
TIER 3
• Tara, Paige, and “The Hallway Girls” — Background energy.
• Leah M. — Trying a little too hard.
⸻
I stared at Chelsea’s name underneath mine.
It felt… surreal.
Not because I was ranked above her.
But because now everyone else knew it too.
At lunch, we used to joke about the “social stock market”—how one wrong look or wrong outfit could tank your reputation. But Chelsea? She’d never dipped. Not until now.
I imagined what she was doing right then—staring at her screen, forcing a smile in her group chat, probably already drafting a new plan to reassert herself.
The girl wasn’t used to sharing the spotlight.
Especially not with someone who could outshine her.
But the thing was… I hadn’t taken the crown from her.
I’d built one of my own.
And I could already feel the weight of it on my head.
Not the sparkly one.
The real one.
- Writer
