Free The Ugly Truth by Cheryel Hutton

cute, their talent segments were amazing, and I couldn’t wait to see who won.
    “Isn’t this just the most fun in the world?”
    Maddie’s enthusiastic smile was contagious, but I managed to hold mine back. “It’s not so bad.”
    She turned up her perfect little nose. “You just don’t want to admit how much you’re enjoying yourself.”
    Actually, there was some truth to that, but I’d be damned if I was about to admit to it. “This beauty stuff is more your thing than mine.”
    She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay, I won’t make you admit how great a time you’re having.”
    Giggling, the little rat wondered off to do her bit helping with the miniature beauty queens. I allowed my smile to emerge as I turned back to picture taking. She knew me far too well.
    The time passed faster than I would have believed, and soon it was time for the climatic naming of the little winners. I noticed most of the kids got some sort of award, and all of the contestants got a ribbon and a certificate of participation. Whoever put this thing together seemed to have a real interest in making everybody happy.
    Once the queen, cute little dark-haired Jodie Alonzo, was crowned, the crowd immediately went into a frenzy. Most of the parents and grandparents told the kids how well they’d done, but there were a few exceptions. A particularly harsh voice bellowed his kid would have won if she’d sang a little louder and had a better dress. The voice sounded familiar, so I peeked around the corner of the backstage area. Sure enough, it was my old friend Butch T. Jerk.
    “She sings fine, and I could have got her a better dress if you would’ve given me more money, you stingy bastard.” The woman, probably his wife, stood a foot from Butch’s face and screamed right back at him.
    “I ain’t made of money, you know.”
    “Well, if people didn’t know what you did, you might get a better job.”
    Butch’s face went blood red. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
    “Why do so many people think you do, then?”
    “How the hell should I know?”
    I turned off the flash and clicked a couple of stealth photographs. I had no idea what I’d do with them, but it seemed advisable to take advantage of the opportunity.
    I caught both adults’ angry expressions, and the teary-eyed face of the little girl who was begging them to stop. My heart went out to her, and I wanted so badly to comfort her, to take away her pain, that I took a step in their direction.
    Realizing what I’d done, I quickly retreated around a corner where I wouldn’t be seen.
    The sound of footsteps shot a quick burst of apprehension through my chest. But it was the little girl who stomped around the corner, her lacy pink dress bouncing with each hard step. Her head was down, her tiny fists where clenched, and every few steps she’d swipe at the tears dripping off her cheeks.
    “Are you all right?”
    She stopped and stared at me. “Who are you?”
    “My name’s Stephie. I’m taking pictures of the pageant for an article my friend is writing.”
    She leaned her head to one side as if she was considering my words.
    I gave her my best smile. “What’s your name?”
    “Lexie.” She scrunched up her little face. “I hate my mom and dad.”
    “No, you don’t.”
    She could glare hard for a little girl. “Yes I do.”
    “Okay. Why do you hate them?”
    “Because they argue all the time.” Tears began to flow again, and she swiped at her face with one fist.
    “I’m sorry, Lexie. Sometimes adults yell.” Boy, wasn’t that the truth. “Just try to ignore them.”
    “They’re yelling because I didn’t win the pageant. I’m glad I didn’t win. I hate the stupid pageant stuff.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it’s silly.”
    I sat on my heels and wiped a tear streaking down her face—and taking makeup with it. Foundation on a six-year-old. Freaky. “Your mommy and daddy want people to see how pretty you are.”
    “I don’t