Dumplin- Today

Dumplin’ caught her eye and winked. She played on, even worse than before. She added a little shuffle dance step. Her dress strap slipped. She didn’t fix it.

Not a mean laugh. A real one. It came from a little girl in the front row, a girl with pigtails and a face full of freckles, who was clutching a pageant program. The girl’s mother tried to shush her, but the girl just laughed harder, a bright, bell-like sound. Dumplin-

The judge shook her head, a real smile cracking her lipstick. “No. She bought everyone hot dogs from the concession stand and taught them a line dance.” Dumplin’ caught her eye and winked

“Miss Dickson,” she whispered, her voice unexpectedly soft. “Your aunt Lucy. She did that same kazoo routine in 1993. She came in last place.” Her dress strap slipped