chapter ten

Adaora's pov

The weekend went by nicely. My sister was home, and as soon as we had some alone time, I told her my big news.

"I want to be Miss Evercrest," I announced proudly. "I'm joining the pageantry!"

She raised a brow. "Really? Let me see your walk then."

Excited, I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and strutted across the room, trying to look elegant.

I barely got halfway when Chuka barged in.

"What is wrong with this one?" he said, doubling over with laughter. "Why are you walking like an ostrich with diarrhea?"

I stopped in my tracks and glared at him. "Chuka!"

But he was already laughing so hard, holding his stomach like he had just heard the funniest joke of his life.

I launched at him, but he was too fast. He dashed down the hallway, still laughing.

Meanwhile, my sister was no help her laughter echoed through the passage, making me even more annoyed.

"Useless siblings!" I muttered, stomping back to my room.

---

Monday arrived.

I got to school feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

As soon as I spotted Ifeoma, I hurried to her.

"Good morning, Senior Ify," I teased.

She flicked her braids over her shoulder. "Ah ah, respect me, please. I'm now an upcoming music star!"

I laughed as we walked into class and sat together. The day dragged by, with teachers filling the board with notes and classmates whispering about upcoming competitions.

Then, practice time arrived.

We all gathered in the school hall, waiting.

A few minutes later, a slender woman in high heels walked in, carrying a clipboard. She looked serious, like someone who took perfection very seriously.

"I am Miss Gloria," she announced. "I will be your coach. Now, line up."

We quickly formed a line, and she started teaching us how to introduce ourselves properly.

I was just getting the hang of it when Anita dramatically walked in.

Everyone turned.

Miss Gloria looked up, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You're late."

Anita flipped her hair. "I already know all these basics, ma."

Miss Gloria's expression didn't change. "Well, I don't care. You come early, or don't come at all."

For once, Anita had nothing to say.

Miss Gloria turned away from her and continued the lesson.

I exchanged glances with Ana

This competition was about to get even more interesting.

Miss Gloria: "Now, ladies, remember to keep your posture straight, shoulders back, and chest out. You are queens, after all!"

(The students giggle and adjust their positions, trying to mimic Miss Gloria's elegant stance.)

Miss Gloria: "And when you speak, speak with confidence! Project your voice, enunciate clearly, and own what you say. You are worthy of being heard!"

(The students practice speaking in front of the class, trying to channel their inner confidence.)

Miss Gloria: "Excellent work, ladies! Tomorrow, we'll take it to the next level. You'll learn how to walk like a queen – with poise, with purpose, and with a strut that says, 'I'm unstoppable!'"

(The students squeal with excitement, eager to learn the art of walking like royalty.)

Miss Gloria: "Ta-ta for now, class! Remember to practice your posture and confidence until tomorrow. And don't forget to bring your heels!"

(Miss Gloria gives a sly smile, strikes a pose, and catwalks out of the room, leaving the students in awe.)

(The students look at each other, still grinning from ear to ear, and start to chatter excitedly about the next day's lesson.)

(The scene fades to black as the students continue to buzz with anticipation.)

Ana came close, smiling warmly. She was really nice I liked her already.

As I packed my bag, she leaned in. "You know the competition is in two weeks, right? We have so little time. I wonder how we'll cope."

I sighed. "We'll just have to try our best."

"Okay, see you tomorrow!" she said before waving goodbye.

I turned and spotted Ifeoma sitting alone, looking a bit down.

I sat beside her. "Omo, what's up? You don't look happy."

She groaned. "See ehn, there's this guy in SS3 that sings so beautifully. How do I compete with that? I'm in serious soup!"

I rolled my eyes. "Abeg, don't start. Your voice is strong, Ify. You will make it for sure!"

Just then, Stella walked in, looking excited.

"So, how is dancing?" I asked.

She grinned. "Great! We're only seven left in the finals, and I qualified!"

"Nice! So you just need to be in the top three?" I asked.

She nodded. "Exactly! I just have to place second or third."

Ifeoma scoffed. "Why not first?"

I clapped my hands. "You will be first, Stella. I know you!"

She sighed dramatically. "Yea, but omo, there's this girl they call Princess. She brings sultry into dancing."

Zainab, who had just walked in, raised a brow. "Wait… you mean Princess is competing with you?"

She burst into laughter. "That girl is in JSS3, right? Our junior?!"

Stella nodded. "Yes, and guess what?"

Zainab smirked. "Don't tell me she's related to Anita."

"She is!" Stella confirmed.

I groaned. "Wow, so being dirty, sultry, and mean runs in their family?"

Stella sighed. "Mehn, you need to see her dance. She moves like she has no spine! And the way she twerks? Omo, she'll probably win."

I shook my head. "Forget that. You'll beat her, Stella. We just need to step up our game."

We all exchanged determined looks.

This competition was getting tougher, but we were ready to fight for our wins.

The next few days were intense. Every break, every free period, and even after school, we were either practicing or talking about the competition.

Dancing Practice

One afternoon, I walked into the hall where Stella was practicing. The music blasted through the speakers as she moved with sharp, precise steps. But as I watched, I noticed the girl we'd been talking about—Princess dancing at the far end of the hall.

And wow.

She was good.

She spun, dipped, and moved her body like she had been dancing all her life.

Ifeoma nudged me. "You see what I'm saying? This girl is dangerous."

Stella wiped sweat off her forehead and sighed. "Omo, I have to up my game. This girl no dey joke."

I placed a hand on her shoulder. "Forget her. Focus on yourself. You have a different style. You don't need to be sultry. You need to be powerful."

She nodded. "You're right. I'll work harder."

Music Practice

Later that day, I passed by the music room where Ifeoma was practicing. When I peeped inside, I saw her standing in front of a microphone, looking nervous.

I stepped inside quietly and sat at the back.

Then she started singing.

Her voice was soft at first, but as she gained confidence, it became stronger, filling the room.

Even the SS3 guy she had been scared of turned to listen.

When she finished, I clapped loudly.

She turned, surprised. "Adaora, when did you get here?!"

I grinned. "Long enough to hear you shut down that room. Ifeoma, your voice is amazing! Why were you even scared before?"

She blushed. "I don't know… I just felt intimidated."

"Well, don't be. You have this in the bag."

She smiled. "Thanks, Adaora. I really needed that."

Cooking Practice

We found Zainab in the Home Economics lab, struggling with a recipe.

She frowned at the pot of soup in front of her. "Omo, this thing no sweet."

I burst out laughing. "Zainab, what happened?"

She pouted. "I don't know! I followed all the steps, but it's just… bland."

Stella grabbed a spoon and tasted it. She winced. "Yeah… we need to fix this."

Zainab groaned. "Maybe I should just drop out."

"Never!" I said. "We don't quit in this squad. We'll practice until you get it right."

She sighed but smiled. "You guys are the best."

Pageant Training

Finally, my own practice started.

Ana helped me with walking in heels, turning with confidence, and standing with the right posture.

As I practiced, I felt a sharp gaze on me.

I turned.

Anita was standing at the door, arms crossed, smirking.

"Not bad," she said, walking in. "But let's be real, you don't stand a chance against me."

I took a deep breath. "We'll see."

She flipped her hair and walked away.

Ana touched my arm. "Don't let her get to you."

I exhaled. "I won't."

Two weeks.

We had two weeks left.

And we were all ready to give it everything we had.