Britney Smith walked at a planned pace, swinging her hips strategically in her pompous strut that she practiced hundreds of times before in her bedroom. Her nose was angled slightly, pointed at the ceiling above her. Blonde tresses flowed behind her, ending at the small of her back. All of her peers, or followers, as she liked to believe, gawked at her as she made her way down the hall to her second-period class. The bell had chimed twenty minutes earlier, and Britney knew her history teacher would lecture her, but she needed to be fashionably late. Every day. Arriving early meant arriving ugly, and Britney could never put herself through that trauma.
She tugged her ruffled skirt higher, and it nearly grazed her throat. She confirmed her bra was properly stuffed before entering the classroom. The class was drowned in silence, and also in their own drooling. Many boys gave her a suggestive whistle and she pretended to be repulsed. However, the only person who wasn’t admiring her glory was seated directly beside her: Courtney Johnson.
“Your tissues are showing,” Courtney smirked, crossing one leg over the other in her seat. Britney hastily tucked the napkins back into her bra before glaring at her arch rival. The teacher cleared his throat, motioning towards Britney.
“Glad you decided to join us, Miss Smith,” he said, returning to his lesson. Britney zoned out and picked at the hem of her skirt until a keyword grabbed her attention. She heard him say prom, and Britney was all ears.
“The annual prom is this Saturday. Remember to vote for your prom king and queen,” the man announced as Britney jumped to her feet. She had been waiting for this moment all of her natural life. With shoulders pushed back into a perfect posture, Britney strutted to the front.
“My fellow classmates,” she bellowed, her plump and precisely glossed lips curving each syllable as if she had rehearsed this speech before. She had. “It would be an honor to represent this school as your prom queen. I have dreamt of being prom queen since I was a little girl. Make my dreams come true, I beg, and vote Britney Smith!” She ended her speech with a princess-like wave. Then, Courtney Johnson rose from her desk.
“Actually, I have something to say.” Courtney’s heels clicked against the tiled floor and she shoved Britney out of the way. “I am running for prom queen, as well. Let’s face it, Brit, you’re just too poor to be a queen. I mean, can you even afford a dress? Does your fairy godmother have to turn a pumpkin into your carriage?”
Britney whimpered a cry of despair, placing her hand over her heart. As the class cheered for Courtney, Britney stumbled out into the hall, unable to stand any longer. Her back slid down the wall and she thought she might as well die right there. She pictured her gravestone, and carved into it was “killed by humiliation”. Britney used to imagine she’d die with her body parts mangled in a trash bag and thrown into a rushing river, but this! The door swung open, almost hitting her, and Courtney Johnson walked through.
“Poor Britney. No, literally.” Courtney’s laugh was high-pitched and forced. It was known throughout the school halls that Courtney’s father invented the ShamWow, which meant she was of wealthy descent. She lived in the neighborhood beside Britney’s, whose houses were larger and fancier than Britney’s middle-class ranch. Everyone knew Britney was poorer than Courtney, which ultimately made Courtney better.
Britney wiped her inexpensive tears. “I am not poor! I’ll prove it, too. I bet I can buy the best dress and accessories. I bet I can win the crown!”
Courtney stopped to think, which was rare. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, I like those odds. I bet I can win the crown, and look better than you while doing it. If I win, you drop out of school. If you win, I’ll…,” Courtney pondered. “I’ll sell my belongings and live in a box!”
Britney agreed, and the girls shook hands. Instead of returning to class, Britney left school and drove home. There, her mother was sanitizing the countertops. Her siblings were at school and her father was always working. When she saw Britney, she dropped what she was doing and ran to her side.
“My love, what are you doing here?” Britney’s mother tucked her loose hair behind her ear and tried to gussy up in front of her daughter, though she could never compete.
“Mom, I need money to go shopping.” When her mother questioned it, Britney simply yelled, “Now!” So, her mother scurried to her purse, where she pulled out all the money that was left to her name.
“How’s two-hundred sound, sweetie?” Britney nearly went into cardiac arrest.
“Two-hundred! I need a prom dress, not a burlap sack!”
“But, it’s all I have right now, dear. Next week I will have more.”
Britney swiped the bills from her mother’s hand. She wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. “What am I supposed to do with this? How am I going to beat Courtney Johnson?” Before her mother could speak, Britney turned away and sashayed out the door.
There was a boutique in the mall that carried only the most expensive designer dresses. When Britney entered, she felt at home. Her fingers caressed the satin fabrics and traced the designs imprinted on each. An employee assisted her and complimented every dress she tried on. Britney thought of herself as a princess in all of them, and she twirled and danced around as such.
“Oh! I’ll take this one,” Britney cheerfully decided. The dress was a deep burgundy with silver and gold swirls cascading throughout its entirety. It fit her perfectly, as if it was created just for her. A polished and elegant woman rang it up as Britney patted herself on the back. She would definitely be prom queen now.
“That’ll be eight-hundred dollars,” the lady behind the cash register said. Britney’s face dropped as she glanced at the money she had.
“But this is all I have,” Britney admitted, laying the bills on the counter.
The lady scoffed, “I’m going to need more than that. This dress will cost you an arm and a leg.”
Britney filled with anxiety, collecting her money and shamefully stepping away from the counter. “I’ll be right back. Save that dress for me!” She heard the lady groan as she ran out.
Britney had come to the conclusion that she had no other choice. Her next stop was the mortuary. When she arrived, the smell of death and decay filled her senses. She gagged as she met with the mortician: a bald, elderly man that beamed with glee when he saw her. She figured she’d better make the trip quick before the man made her a cold, lifeless ragdoll.
“I need a body. Unclaimed, unidentified. I need an arm and a leg,” Britney requested without batting an eyelash at the peculiar favor. The old man raised a bushy brow, but he never asked her why she needed the limbs. He gestured for her to follow him to a silver wall of cabinets. Then, he pulled out a body of a young man, grabbed a bone saw, and chopped the right arm off. Next came the left leg. Britney was handed a trash bag of the appendages and she thanked him before heading out.
The lady behind the counter was surprised to see Britney back so soon. Eagerly, Britney tossed the bag to her, holding her arms out to receive the dress.
“An arm and a leg, as you requested,” Britney grinned, and the lady, in pure shock, gave her the dress without another word.
Across the shopping mall was a shoe store. A pair of golden heels on display in the window captured Britney’s gaze. When she entered, she found that the shoes were her exact size, as if destiny was calling her and Britney answered.
“How much?” She asked a boy, no older than her, who was stacking shoe boxes on a shelf. He looked her up and down, then glanced back at the shoes. He let out a mocking laugh.
“Honey, you’d have to sell your family on the Black Market for those.” He shook his head in disapproval at her, then focused back on his stacking. Britney bit her bottom lip; the gnawing feeling of guilt covered her chest.
“Can you hold on to these for me? I’ll be by soon to pick them up.”
The next night, at the dinner table, Britney nervously played with her food. Her father was reading the daily paper, her mother was talking about her day filled with exciting housework, and her siblings were throwing food into each other’s hair. She stared at each of them a little too long, taking in their faces, their voices, and their personalities. Britney finally found the courage to speak up.
“A friend of mine is coming over tomorrow. I’d like it if everyone could be here to meet him,” she carefully said. Little did they know that she had done research that morning and found a Russian man who took care of what Britney needed to be done. She called him and discussed the plan. He would give her a fair share of the profit made.
Britney’s mother nodded. “Sure, darling. We’ll stay home. What’s his name?”
“Stop asking questions,” Britney blurted. “It’s a surprise. You’ll love him.”
That night, she tucked her siblings into bed, hugged her mother, and told her father she loved him. Britney knew what she had done was morally wrong, but she knew in time her family would understand why she had to sell them. They would forgive her, that is, if she ever saw them again.
The Russian man knocked on the door bright and early. Britney was already awake, but her family was sound asleep.
“I take them. I put big sack over heads,” he told her with a thick accent Britney couldn’t quite understand. “They won’t know where going, which is good. I sold them to safe buyer, no worries.”
“Will I ever see them again?” She asked, hoping the shoes were being held for her.
“No.” That was just a price Britney had to pay, but not literally.
“Where’s my money?” She waited with her hands out as the man placed a wad of hundreds in her palm. Then, she snuck out the front door while her family’s muffled screams echoed throughout the house.
The boy from the other day was now sweeping the floors when Britney sauntered in. She threw the crumpled bills at him and took the shoes under her arm. He collected the money from the floor, wearily meeting her eyes.
“Where’d all this come from?” He asked. “What, did you actually sell your family?”
Her mischievous smirk made him tremble as she carried her new heels away. Britney was happy with both of her purchases, but there was still one accessory missing. So, she searched around the mall for a jewelry store. Courtney Johnson would wear her antique pearl necklace her father bought her last Christmas. Britney had to find a better necklace made of finer minerals.
After traveling through the shopping center for a few passing hours, she stumbled upon an elite jeweler. A wrinkled and poorly-aged woman waved her over, and Britney followed.
“Diamonds. I need a genuine diamond necklace,” Britney demanded.
“Look no further. I have many diamond necklaces, ranging from five hundred dollars to thousands. Pick your poison.”
“Listen, witch. I don’t have any money, so tell me what I should do.”
The elderly woman frowned. “No money? I suggest you sell your house, ha! Or don’t buy a necklace!” Britney rolled her eyes at her obnoxious laughter.
“Save your finest, most expensive necklace for me.” With that, Britney returned home.
The house was eerily quiet, though Britney knew why. Her family had been abducted and sold hours before, but all Britney could think about was how lonely she was. She sat in the living room with a phone book in her lap and found a realtor.
“There’s no point in having a house when there’s no one to fill it,” Britney said to the realtor over the phone. “Send anyone over. I want the house sold by tomorrow afternoon.”
For the rest of the night, she packed up her essential belongings, which included her mirror, makeup, and clothes. She fell asleep on the couch until the realtor rang the doorbell the next morning. He brought two potential buyers along, and Britney showed them around her family home.
“Name your prices. The best one can move in today.” A newlywed couple bargained for three-hundred-thousand dollars. Britney nearly collapsed at the price tag. With dollar signs clouding her vision, she agreed, and was soon on her way back to the shopping mall.
“Old hag!” Britney cooed her condescending greeting. “Where’s my necklace?”
The aging woman flashed a necklace full of chunky, glistening diamonds. Britney slid her the down payment check the newlywed couple had given her for fifty grand. As she exited the jewelry store and admired her sparkling diamonds, she bumped into a familiar face.
“Britney Smith,” Courtney Johnson said. “Tomorrow’s the big day. Are you ready to lose the bet?”
Britney merely smiled. “More like, are you ready to live in a cardboard box?” She pushed past Courtney and strode to her car, where she now lived. Britney didn’t mind it, though. There was enough room, air conditioning, and she could listen to music on the radio. Living there was worth winning prom queen, she decided. Who needs a family when you have a crown?
It was finally Saturday, or the day Britney would take the crown from Courtney’s grip. She placed her mirror on the dashboard, painted her face with many colors, and slid her dress over her head. The diamond necklace lay flawlessly against her chest and dazzled when light would brush it.
She arrived to the prom fashionably late, per usual. Courtney Johnson was waiting for her near the stage where the queen would be chosen. Her dress was emerald green and coordinated with her red locks, but she was no match for Britney.
“Courtney! I brought this for you,” Britney greeted her with a small box she had packed her mirror in before. Courtney’s mouth fell agape when she saw Britney’s attire.
“How did you afford all this? You’re--you’re broke!”
Britney agreed. “Well, yeah. Now I am. But my family had my back.”
The principal interrupted the girls with an envelope in hand. This determined Britney’s future. Her legs quaked and she could barely stand in her heels.
Seconds before the announcement, Courtney begged: “Let’s call the bet off?”
The principal’s voice boomed through the speakers. “This year’s prom queen is….”
Britney’s ears filled with cheers and applause as her name was called. She threw the box at Courtney, who was already crying and giving her possessions away to students in the crowd. She was congratulated as the crown was placed on her head. Britney grabbed the microphone with one hand, waving at her fans with the other.
“I’d like to thank my family, my realtor, the mortician, and the Russian. I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for them!” The crowd clapped with confused expressions as Britney exited the stage. After a few moments of praise and congratulations from random peers, she left the dance to boast her winnings to Courtney. However, she couldn’t find her, so she drove her car to the local homeless hangout for the night. She parked in a secluded lot alongside the field where many homeless people gathered around a burning trashcan. A tapping sounded on her window, startling her.
“A deal’s a deal. I gave up my stuff, and I left home,” Courtney said, defeated. Her dress was torn and stained with dirt. “Wait, what are you doing here?” Britney didn’t answer, only rolled her window up and locked the doors. Courtney continued to shout at her from outside. “Britney! Let me in! I have nowhere to go! I won’t last out here for long!”
Britney turned the radio up to block out Courtney’s shrieks and cries. She gave a pleasant laugh, knowing that the homeless men or the native coyotes would reach Courtney before dawn. She reclined the driver’s seat back for a rest. She no longer had a family, or a house, or any real friends, but she had a crown on her head. That was all she ever truly needed.