SHOOT: A Novel

by Kristen Flowers

  It was all I knew. It was home.

  But it wasn’t what I wanted.

  I opened up my wallet to pull out Sonja’s business card, smoothing it over with my fingers and staring at the word “SHOOT” at the top. It was a simple yet chic design that really caught the eye. Giving my truck a tap, I practically skipped to the front door and dropped the moneybox from the day’s earnings onto the kitchen counter.

  Without a word or an attempt to see who was around, I ran up the stairs and closed my bedroom door. I felt like a giddy teenager as I plopped onto my bed and stared down at the card now cradled in my hands like something precious that could break if I dropped it.

  I looked down at the card and smiled wide as ever, flopping back and looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. I could have been floating at that moment thinking about Sonja telling me I had “the look” and proposing the sort of future I thought only characters in movies had. Of all the people out there I never would have counted myself as one of the lucky few to even be glanced at sideways by a model casting agent, much less actually be approached by one.

  If I did go to New York and actually make it as a model, I could be just as glamorous as Sonja. When I came back to visit my hometown, it would be a stark contrast to everything I had ever known. Maybe people wouldn’t even recognize me at first. I would return to my family’s farm and plop down on the bed I was on now, only it would be something of the past. The thought of making my present life a past life gave me chills. I wondered what sort of plush bed I would be able to afford in New York. Sure, my own bed had always been comfortable, but there had to be something even better out there.

  I turned over to lay on my belly and let out a heavy sigh into the pillow. It was all but a dream, a whole bunch of wishful thinking I needed to quit before I got too wrapped up in it. The last thing I needed was to get obsessed with something impossible and live out my days heartbroken and feeling more frustrated than ever. Of course, the desire for a better life wasn’t entirely selfish.

  “Chloe!” It was my younger sister, Aubrey, calling up for me to go downstairs.

  My sister was already 14 years old and I knew that if I made a career for myself it would invariably help my younger sister have a brighter future with greater options. I sighed feeling like it really was pointless to think so much on a future I could never have. I pushed off the bed and trudged to my bedroom door. I took a deep breath before pulling it open and walking downstairs with the happiest expression I could muster.

  “Dinner is ready,” Aubrey informed me before heading into the kitchen to continue helping our mother, who had prepared a chicken dinner with fresh vegetables picked from their garden just hours before. If it was any consolation, I knew the city wouldn’t offer such fresh, healthy, and delicious meals like the ones I could get from the farm.

  I walked into the kitchen to grab the serving dish holding roasted potatoes and took it into the dining room where everything else was already in place. I knew right away it was Zoey, my 10-year-old sister, who had set the table because she always placed the fork upside down between the spoon and knife. She thought it looked cute or interesting. I couldn’t remember the exact word she had used. Not only that, she was the only one who ever made sure the plates and glasses didn’t match in color.

  I looked around, but my little sister was nowhere to be seen and neither was Abel, my 6-year-old brother and youngest sibling. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and sat down at my usual spot, exhaling loudly and enjoying the brief moment of quiet before everyone sat down for dinner and things became somewhat chaotic, as it always did when everyone was together.

  Having three younger siblings was far from easy or peaceful, but there was no other way I would have it. Maybe I grew tired of them going at each other constantly, shrieking, or dealing with Aubrey’s early teen melodramas, but I loved them more than anyone or anything. What I wanted above all else was to help provide them with exactly the future they wanted and deserved; one full of happiness and opportunity—the kind of opportunity I never had.

  Just then, Abel and Zoey walked in laughing. Abel immediately ran up to me and climbed on my back. I started to ruffle his hair and gave him a quick peck on his smooth forehead. He didn’t inherit the striking emerald green eyes I did, but they were hazel and absolutely lovely. I pressed on his cute, upturned nose and made a little honk noise.

  “Ready for dinner?”

  Abel nodded enthusiastically and I patted his hip before placing him on the chair beside me. Zoey, sitting across the table, was staring at me. I knew she was waiting to be greeted as well and it was no secret she got a bit jealous of the attention I gave the baby brother.

  “Cute bow,” I commented, eyes fixated on the pastel green bow with pink polka dots fixed to the side of her golden brown hair, pulled back behind her ears in the neat little bob she always kept it in. Of all the siblings, Zoey was easily the best suited to country life. She was truly meant to be born into it and nothing made her happier than spending time on the farm or working in the family shop. Despite being only 10 years old, she was also the best cook of all four kids. She had taken a keen interest in it from a very young age.

  Zoey grinned and poked the corner of the bow, happy to have earned a compliment from her oldest sister. Although our styles differed quite drastically, Zoey looked to me as a sort of role model. It was something that made me feel both pressured and gleeful at the same time. A couple minutes later our parents, Joe and Pam, came downstairs with Aubrey trailing behind. We all sat down and mother said grace before the loud clinking of silverware against dishes started as everyone passed dishes around and took a serving.

  “Everything looks delicious, mom,” Aubrey said before taking a bite of the herb roasted chicken and making a noises of approval. I looked at my sister and thought even she was better suited to this life than me. The truth was both Aubrey and Zoey seemed happier to stay in the small Iowa town working in the family business. As for Abel, it was bit too soon to tell.

  I loved my parents, I loved my siblings, and I appreciated everything I had been provided with. I liked making blueberry pies and felt a sense of pride from how delicious they always turned out. The townspeople were quite lovely and even the bad eggs were bearable.

  Despite all that, I couldn’t help but wonder what else was out there.

  The dreamy glow must have lit up my eyes because my father chuckled when he looked at me, “Did you have an especially good day at the stand, honey?” I took a moment to focus on what he said before nodding slowly. “You look especially radiant like you’re in a dream. What happened? Meet a boy?” He teased.

  “Oh,” I responded slowly, killing time by munching on some of the vegetables my mother had sautéed. I could feel my cheeks burning. I was sure I was blushing a crimson red. A boy? No, not in Iowa. Sure I had boyfriends in the past, but they were just as simple as the girls. None of them actually wanted to leave, which meant none of them were for me.

  My mind raced as I tried to decide if it was an opportune time to answer honestly about what had happened earlier with Sonja. As exciting as it was for me, I knew it would probably upset at least one other person at the table—my mother. My mom was a true to form, born and bred country girl who had inherited all the good graces of her own mother and the desire to carry on such a legacy. She wasn’t the type to wonder about anything outside the world she knew and very much loved. She wanted that same kind of life for me; to the point of nearly demanding it.

  “My pies all sold out,” I finally responded, deciding to put away anything to do with Sonja and her offer.

  My dad cocked his eyebrow and swallowed the food he had in his mouth. “Well, that’s great, but it’s not exactly rare.”

  “Right,” I responded, trying to figure out convincing reason for my glow that evening. “It’s a good sign they all sold pretty quickly on the first day out of the season and I even had an old friend come from across the state to make sure she got some!”

  Lin
dsay had, of course, not come to town specifically for my pies, but it was close to being true so I figured my little lie would pass. After all, she had taken much time picking out the perfect pie and made it a point to stop by the stand.

  My father nodded and went on to ask about Lindsay, making the conversation flow easily. I was grateful for it because my mind was still stuck on Sonja’s business card folded in half and sitting atop my dresser upstairs. I was too busy off in my dream world to think of more to say. It wasn’t long before Aubrey chimed in and the conversation shifted.

  Once dinner was all done, I helped Zoey gather up all the dirty dishes and us girls split the cleanup work while our parents tended to Abel in the den. As Aubrey and Zoey alternated between playfully teasing one another, I focused on drying the dishes as I stared out the window at the dark expanse of land belonging to my family’s farm.

  I wondered what it would be like to look out my window and see something completely different.

  It was about 10:30am and the house was quiet enough that I could actually enjoy my green tea at the kitchen table without interruptions. I had gone to bed early, but didn’t actually get any shuteye until late at night. My mother stepped into the kitchen to clean up now that breakfast was over, but she didn’t bother me at all.

  “Let me help you,” I said, moving to stand up but she shook her head.

  “It’s okay. Just sit and enjoy your tea,” she responded warmly without looking back at me.

  It was the norm for my mom to take charge of everything related to breakfast, the cleanup included. We had all come to think of it as her domain for some reason, but it just worked. The noise of dishes, water running, and scrubbing was like white noise to my ears as I enjoyed the sun shining through the big, open windows of the kitchen. It was a beautiful warm day.

  That sense of peace wouldn’t last long as Zoey came running down the stairs with something clutched in her hand. Making all sorts of cooing noises, she plopped down on the chair right next to me and stared at me with wide eyes. She was clearly up to something so I tried to get a good look at whatever she was holding, but she put her hand behind her back.

  Then she turned to look at whatever it was she was holding before asking, “Who is Sawn-Jah My-Er?”

  It took a moment for me to figure out what she just asked, but the moment I did, the blood drained from my face. How could I have fallen asleep with the card clutched in my hand, but have forgotten to put it away in the morning? In a flash, I tried to pry the card out of her little hand, but she put up a good fight, giggling loudly and taunting me.

  “Give it to me!” I warned her hoping that somehow, magically, my mom wouldn’t pay us any mind. Zoey stood up and wiggled away, I lunging behind her. That was when mom saw what was going on so she walked over immediately in an attempt to break up the commotion between the us.

  I gulped as I watched her take the card from Zoey. She looked at it before reading aloud, “Sonja Meier – Model Scout – Shoot High Fashion Modeling Agency – New York City.”

  There was a very pregnant pause in the kitchen as my pulse stood still and my throat went dry. She stared at the card, but it was impossible for me to figure out what was running through her mind. Zoey was smart enough to pick up on the mood of the room and she quietly walked out, heading up the stairs to leave me alone with mom.

  It felt like ages before she finally looked up. “Where did this card come from, Chloe?” Her honey brown eyes were piercing into my emerald green ones. I tried my best to stay composed. I wasn’t afraid of her, but I had absolutely no idea how this conversation would go. No matter how good our relationship was there was no denying it was a nerve-wracking situation. My mother and I almost always got along, but there was a constant elephant in the room. That elephant being me wanting to leave Iowa. She always wanted me to stay and continue the family farm.

  “Um,” I finally said in a timid whisper. It was time to just tell her the truth.

  “I got it yesterday.”

  I knew my mother wanted the whole story so I launched into it, telling her about the woman who looked out of place, how she approached the stand, and repeating the conversation I had with Sonja.

  “I see,” she said when I was finished, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. She rubbed her hands on her apron after placing the card on the table. She looked down at it then met my gaze again, “And what do you think of it all?”

  I was very aware of my heart racing against my chest and I was sure it beat right out of my ribs. This was the moment to be completely honest with her. The opportunity to tell her how I felt had practically been forced into my hands by none other than my little sister.

  “It’s unbelievable,” I finally said, the awe and excitement in my voice was completely obvious. I did my best to ignore the discontent in my mother’s eyes. “I honestly can’t believe this woman thinks I have a real shot, mom. It’s like a dream,” I paused and sat down. I looked straight into her eyes, hoping to appeal to her soft side. Maybe if she saw how much her daughter wanted this she would soften up a bit. It was a long shot, but I had to try.

  “Mom,” I said quietly, “I really want to go.”

  She sighed and leaned forward, placing her hand briefly over mine before shaking her head and placing it back on the clean surface of the kitchen table.

  “I know it sounds like something amazing out of a movie, darling. I know that glitz and glamour can have you high as kite in La-La Land, but you should think carefully. Be practical.” She paused with a frown, bordering on a scowl. I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever was coming next. “I think it’s best if you stay here and help run the family business. Find a boy, settle down, have children. There’s nothin’ good outside of Iowa.”

  “This could be my big chance to do something different, something I couldn’t have thought possible in my wildest dreams! You really want me to stay here to sell pies?” I was in disbelief and reaching desperation mode. This was a once in a lifetime shot.

  My mother looked both hurt and angry, but her voice was steady when she spoke up, “You should be proud.”

  “I am, mom. That doesn’t mean I don’t know there’s more out there in the world beyond this small town. I may know where I come from and I appreciate everything, but it doesn’t mean it has to stop me from wanting to explore something else,” I tried to reason. I had calmed my tone of voice significantly because I wanted her to take me seriously. Getting worked up and out of control never helped anyone.

  After a long silence, I scooted my chair away from the table and stood up.

  “I’m going. I have to go.”

  I took one last look at my mother’s upset face before turning on my heel and walking upstairs to my bedroom, my ticket out of there clutched securely in my hand.

  I arrived in New York a month later, coming in at the famed Grand Central Station by train. Although I was offered a plane ticket, I had declined due to my fear of flying. Even though I had never been on a plane before, I was pretty sure I’d hate it. I felt like a complete country bumpkin admitting I had never been on an airplane, but a sense of relief had spread over me when the booker told me it was understandable and offered me a train ride instead.

  The journey was long, but worth it. Naturally, I had tried to sleep during the long trip, but I was brimming with too much excitement and anxiety to have much luck with sleeping. I ended up walking along the silent halls of the train at night, holding on to the rail to keep from falling as it swayed from side to side.

  My jaw dropped in awe the moment I stepped out from under an archway and into the main lobby of Grand Central Station. I saw a large twin staircase to my right. Up there I would have the perfect vantage point to truly admire the place. I practically scurried over to it, trailing my luggage behind me on its busy little wheels and tugging it up the marble steps as I climbed them. I placed my hands on the rail and looked down to admire the scene before me.

  My eyes darted from the display board, the lights, the ceiling,
and the people walking in a rush. It was all so amazing I couldn’t believe I was seeing it with my own eyes rather than staring at it through a computer screen. It was even more grand than it appeared in pictures and movies. It took every ounce of self-control for me not to squeal out of sheer excitement. My dreams were finally happening.

  Finally, I walked outside Grand Central and, almost immediately, the sights and sounds of the city overwhelmed me. I had never experienced anything remotely like it. The fact that it was a busy weekday afternoon made the impact even greater. Despite having seen the rush of people in the station moving in a flurry, it didn’t compare to what I was witnessing now. I flattened back against the wall of the building to stay out of the way from all the people on the sidewalk. I felt as if I could get pushed forward and carried off at any given moment. I couldn’t help but gawk at all the men in suits and women in heels walking around.