Violet In Private by Melissa Walker

Author:Melissa Walker [Walker, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PENGUIN group

thirteen

When I see Oliver in Sociology on Monday, I smirk sheepishly. He grins back with a full, megawatt smile, making me feel even more guilty for ditching him.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” he says.

“Um, sorry I missed Friday night,” I say. “I heard it was really fun.” I’m such a dork.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “No big deal. I mean, I wish you could’ve come, but I guess you had—”

“It was this modeling appointment in the city,” I lie. “After I talked to you they wanted me to go back for another fitting and it just got really late, so I stayed over at my aunt’s house.”

I’m amazed at how easily the deception rolls off my tongue.

“And she has this thing where she hates cell phones so she made me turn mine off and I couldn’t get in touch with anyone,” I continue. When did I get so good at lying?

“That’s cool,” says Oliver. “So you’re modeling again?”

“Just a runway show,” I say, glad that I don’t have to defend a print ad or something more “insidious.”

“Oh,” he says. And he says it in such a way that I feel like he has more to say.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“Um, nothing really,” he says.

“Seriously—what?” I ask.

“I just wish you were around more on the weekends,” he says, smiling. “It would be fun to hang out like we did at Brown.”

“It would be,” I say. Is it wrong to love Roger and really, really like Oliver?

Of course, the week that Oliver turns on the flirt is the busiest week of my year. I have to get fitted for the gown at Tracetown on Wednesday, and I’m set to walk their runway at one p.m. on Friday, which means I’ll miss a half day at Teen Fashionista. Luckily, most of the editors will be at the shows anyway, so the office will be dead. Or so Chloe tells me when I request the afternoon off.

It’s been several months since I walked a runway—the last one was for Mirabella Prince in Paris when I freaking fainted in front of a huge crowd of fashion’s Double A-List. Yikes.

But with Mickey and Matt, I feel at ease. They’ve made the gown fit perfectly around me, and even though I’m not a beanpole right now, I almost want to start singing that Natalie Wood song from West Side Story because, well, I feel pretty!

“Violet, I’m impressed that you had us go green for this show,” says Henry, my favorite makeup artist who always works with Tracetown. “I don’t usually like to switch up my makeup bag, but I’m into it!”

I look around and realize that—true to his word—Mickey has gotten donations from some of the most environmentally friendly companies out there. I smile.

“And don’t worry about those nasty girls,” Henry continues. “You just do your thing.”

“What girls?” I ask. I look around and see stony model faces staring at me. One über-blond girl has her lip curled as she looks me up and down, a Tyra clone in

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