Models Don't Eat Chocolate Cookies by Erin Dionne

Author:Erin Dionne [Dionne, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

MOM SPENT THE entire ride home from San Francisco chattering about how great the day was, and how beautiful I looked, and how wonderful the experience was. When I pointed out that Erika did not have a wonderful experience or a great day, she scowled and chided me for Focusing on the Negative. “Models have to look on the bright side of things,” she said. “Keeps them from breaking out. Besides, you looked so good, I think you need to go back for round two.”

“But we agreed!” I protested. I’d met my obligation. What more did she want from me?

“Honey, you aren’t seriously considering quitting now,” she said, surprise in her voice. “Didn’t you see yourself? You were like a different person in there.”

Yeah . . . Miss HuskyPeach-person, Red Bathing Suit Woman snickered. I did my best to ignore her, but she was right.

“Why do I have to be different?” I barked. “Why can’t I just be me?”

“Sweetie, you’re wonderful just as you are.” Mom’s eyes slid from the road for a quick glance at me. She gave me a warm smile. “But like Christian said, this was you—enhanced. Confident, beautiful . . . radiant. You were a star. Don’t you think that’s what you deserve? I do.”

“I said I’d only go once,” I muttered.

“But didn’t you like Christian? And those girls in our group seemed nice. Plus, you could learn a lot from watching Violet Page in the next round.” Her tone switched to neutral, but her hands gripped the steering wheel hard.

She can’t be serious, I thought. She sounded like the other pageant moms. I made a mental note not to let her talk to Ashley’s mother ever again, then kept my mouth shut and fumed during the rest of the ride. No matter what I said, I knew I’d be sucked into going back for round two. My non-interview and steamrolling of Erika had to be enough to make me lose the contest, but Christian’s magic brush worked some serious charm. Operation Skinny Celeste would have to continue for another two weeks. The Negative Twenty had to come off.

By the time we pulled into our driveway, thanks to Mom’s endless conversation and my anxiety party, I was wound as tightly as a jack-in-the-box. I popped out of the car and scooted inside, hoping to go straight to my room, change, and return to my old life (well, maybe after I got another look in the mirror at Model Celeste).

Ben was sitting on the stairs, threading laces into a pair of sneakers. “You look different,” he said as I stepped over him. “What’d they do to you there?”

“Hair and makeup,” I muttered, heaving myself up the steps, puffing. Certainly don’t feel any different.

“Some girls are waiting for you,” he called after me.

I froze. Some girls? Who? Couldn’t be Sandra, could it? Who would be with her? The answer came instantly. Lively. Sandra and Lively were waiting for me. Maybe they were sorry. Maybe Sandra felt bad about what happened in the bathroom, and was bringing Lively to apologize about the cafeteria.

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