Lizard Flanagan, Supermodel??

by Carol Gorman

  “Your mom is the best baker in the world.” I plopped the yogurt on top. “You want some?”

  “Yeah.”

  I scooped out a big ball of yogurt for him and put it on his pie. We went out and sat on the back porch. Klondike sat alert at our feet, hoping for a handout. We always let him lick our plates, so he had a hurry-up-and-finish-it look in his eyes.

  “Cool it, Klondike,” I said. “I’m going to enjoy this pie no matter how pathetic you look.”

  Klondike whimpered, then jumped around and landed at my feet, barking.

  “He misunderstood you,” Zach said. “He thought you said, ‘Get ready, Klondike. I hope you enjoy this pie I’m going to throw to you.’”

  I laughed. We ate till we were stuffed. Then we put our plates on the patio so Klondike could lick off the melted yogurt that was left.

  “When Sam and I were younger, we had this great baby-sitter who baked for us. She’d make cakes and pies and cookies all the time.”

  “Sounds better than the baby-sitter I had,” Zach said. “Mrs. Barnhart used to lock me in the closet when she got tired of me.”

  I grinned. I loved Zach’s stories. “So what happened?”

  Zach leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Well, I finally got my revenge. One time, after she shut the door, I ran my hand over the closet wall and felt a button I hadn’t known was there. I pushed it, and a door popped open in the wall behind me.”

  “What was on the other side?”

  “A hidden staircase,” Zach said. “I was careful to lock the secret door behind me so Mrs. Barnhart couldn’t follow me if she found it. I tiptoed down the steps and into a basement room that I didn’t know existed. It was filled with spy equipment: a pen that was really a tiny camera, special computers that decode secret messages, fingerprint-dusting kits, things like that.”

  “Cool.”

  “I’d suspected for a long time that my dad was a secret agent, but this proved it. I had a hunch that Mrs. Barnhart was a foreign spy, and she was posing as a baby-sitter so she could snoop around the house.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I found a door leading into the main part of the basement,” he said. “I sneaked upstairs and peeked at Mrs. Barnhart. She was taking pictures of some papers on my dad’s desk. So I took pictures of her with the pen camera. I picked up a glass she’d been using to guzzle our supply of Diet Coke and dusted it for fingerprints. Then I set up a trap.”

  “How’d you do that?”

  “I wrote a note using my dad’s handwriting that said the CIA papers on the Underwood Project were hidden in the coat closet.”

  “What was the Underwood Project?”

  “I just made it up. It sounded official and like something Barnhart would be nosy about.”

  “Did she go for it?”

  He nodded. “Like Klondike to your dessert plate. She rushed to the closet. And a second later, she was my prisoner in that cramped, dark place. My dad turned her in and proved with the evidence I’d collected that she was a foreign spy. She’s in prison right now, chained to a concrete wall in her cell.”

  “All right!”

  Zach leaned back on the porch railing. “I hated that closet.”

  Mary Ann jogged around the side of the house. “Lizard, I’m so glad I found you!” she said. “Hi, Zach.” Her face was flushed, and she looked really excited. She stopped and breathed heavily. She must’ve run from her house.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Great news, Lizard! The best!”

  Inside my stomach, it suddenly felt as if a little man was stomping around on the apple pie and yogurt.

  “What?” I said. “What happened?”

  Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

  “I was just at your house looking for you,” she said, grinning. “The phone rang, and your mom told me that it was the woman who interviewed you for the fashion show.”

  Oh, no. Not that. If Mary Ann was happy about it, this wasn’t a good sign! The stomping got worse.

  STOMP, STOMP, STOMP, STOMP.

  I didn’t want to hear the answer, but I asked anyway. “What did she say?” I braced myself.

  Mary Ann beamed. “Congratulations! You got in! You were picked for the Spring Pines fashion show! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  The little man in my stomach ran up into my throat and back down and punched my heart a few times for good measure.

  “Wow! Way to go, Lizard!” Zach grinned and clapped me on the back. “I knew you’d be good.”

  “But how could I have—How could she have wanted me—” I stopped. “I don’t get it.”

  “She saw model material in you, dummy!” Mary Ann said, laughing. “Now we can all go to Wrigley Field and see the Cubs play!”

  “The fashion show will be great,” Zach said. “All the guys’ll come. We’ll be there in the crowd rooting for you. You’ll show that stuck-up Lisa a thing or two.”

  I realized my mouth was hanging open, so I closed it. That man was still hopping up and down in my stomach, and I thought I might lose the pie I’d just eaten.

  “Oh, Lizard, this is so exciting!” Mary Ann said.

  “I have to go home now.”

  “How come?” Zach asked.

  Mary Ann smiled, understanding. “You’ll be fine, Lizard.”

  “I—uh, I have to do my homework. See you.”

  I hurried out of Zach’s backyard and headed for home.

  How could this have happened? I went to the interview looking crummy, with messy hair. I crossed my ankle over my knee and talked about baseball! How could I have failed to make Ms. Landers think I’d be a terrible model?

  Oh, this was horrible! I felt sick.

  I’d have to think of a way to get out of the fashion show. I couldn’t walk around in front of all those people while they stared at me.

  I’d rather die!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “YOU DID IT!” GINGER screeched when I arrived at school with Mary Ann on Monday. Kids were piling off the buses in front of Truman. “You’re going to be in the fashion show with Lisa!”

  She ran over to me, followed by Lisa, Tiffany, and Heather. “I heard it from Lisa, who heard it from Sara Pulliam, who heard it from Mary Ann.”

  I glanced at Mary Ann. “Thanks a lot.”

  “We’re all excited for you, Lizard,” Mary Ann said. Then she lowered her voice and leaned in so the others couldn’t hear. “This’ll be a good chance for you to conquer your fear. You’ll just be showing off some outfits.”

  Ginger stepped closer. “What’d you say, Mary Ann?”

  Mary Ann turned back to her. “I just said we’re all so proud of Lizard.” Lisa glowered at her. “And Lisa, too!”

  Some other kids saw Lisa and me and came over to stare at us as if we were celebrities or something.

  “I just can’t believe it!” Ginger said. “Two of my best friends are going to be models! And one of you just might win the Supermodel prize!” She whipped a camera out of her book bag and snapped a picture of me. “Just think, you could become rich supermodels someday! Maybe you’ll even get on that show that comes into your mansion and looks at how glamorous everything is. Okay, now I want to get a picture of you guys on the first day of your lives as famous models! Come on, Lisa and Lizard. Stand next to each other, you two.”

  More kids crowded around us now.

  I didn’t move. “I don’t want my picture taken, Ginger.”

  “Well, you’d better get used to it, girl! You’re going to be getting your picture taken a lot if you’re going into modeling!”

  “I’m not going into modeling,” I told her. In fact, I was still trying to figure out a way to get out of the fashion show. Money or no money—this just wasn’t worth it.

  “Lisa, stand next to Lizard,” Ginger directed, waving her hand.

  Lisa sighed loudly and came over and stood next to me.

  “Put your arms around each other,” Ginger instructed. “This is the happiest day
of your lives, getting into the exciting world of fashion modeling!”

  It would be a cold day in July before I’d put my arm around that snot Lisa. But she plastered a fake smile on her face and put her arm around my shoulder. Ginger snapped the picture.

  “Perfect!” Ginger said. “But, Lizard, models are supposed to smile when the photographer asks them to.”

  I grabbed Mary Ann’s arm and dragged her through the crowd.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said, stalking away. “Now I know how the animals at the zoo feel, with everybody gawking at them.”

  “It’ll die down,” Mary Ann said, smiling. “It’s just new. Everyone wants to see you and be a part of the excitement.”

  “What excitement?” I said. “I hate this!” I led her behind a lilac bush. “I have to get out of the fashion show.”

  “But, Lizard, you’ll do a great job! It won’t be like in fourth grade because you won’t have to say anything! You’ll just walk around in different outfits.”

  I looked right at Mary Ann. “I tried to sabotage my interview,” I confessed. I told her what I’d worn, and as I talked, her eyes got as big as baseballs. “I did everything wrong! I crossed my ankle over my knee and talked about pitching! I was sure she’d never pick me.”

  “Wow,” Mary Ann said. “How come you didn’t tell me you were going to do that?”

  “I knew you’d try to talk me out of it.”

  Mary Ann laughed. “Just like you would’ve done if I’d told you I was sending in my picture and bio.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “I knew you didn’t want to be in the fashion show,” Mary Ann said, “but you really worked at not getting chosen! But what about the Cubs game? You want to—”

  “Nothing is worth having to get up in front of all those people!”

  Mary Ann smiled again. “All that, and she picked you, anyway. You must’ve done something right!”

  “Ms. Landers told me her husband used to play for St. Louis, and we had a good conversation—”

  “That’s it!” Mary Ann said.

  “What?”

  “The article I read said the most important thing is to be yourself and establish a relationship with the interviewer.”

  “That’s what I did,” I said miserably.

  “And she loved you! You didn’t give me a chance to tell you last night that she said you were a breath of fresh air.”

  “Boy, did I ever louse things up. I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Mary Ann, I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can! You’re going to model in the fashion show, and you’re going to be good.”

  “No, I’m not—”

  “And then after the show, we’ll get on the bus and ride to Wrigley Field to see the Cubs play in person.”

  I sighed. “Boy, I’d love to see the Cubbies play.”

  “You will. You can do it, Lizard. Just keep saying, ‘I’m going to see the Cubbies. I’m going to see the Cubbies.’ Concentrate on how much fun the trip will be.”

  “Why do you think I’d be good?” I asked her. “You know what happened in fourth grade with the hiccups.”

  “That was two whole years ago! You’re mature now. You can handle it.”

  “You think two years can make a difference?”

  “Of course,” Mary Ann said. “Look, isn’t tonight the first rehearsal for the fashion show?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go and see what it’s like. All you do is wear a couple of outfits and walk around. How hard can that be?”

  I sighed. “I guess I can go to the rehearsal tonight. But I won’t promise to be in the show.”

  Mary Ann grinned. “Okay.”

  The bell rang, and everyone headed toward the building.

  “Don’t you have to be at your fashion show rehearsal at six-thirty?” Mom said, stopping in the doorway of my room.

  “Yeah.” I was sorting through my baseball card collection.

  “We’d better go. You don’t want to be late.” She smiled. “This is really exciting, Lizard. I can’t wait to see you in the show.”

  I put down my cards and stared at her. “You’re planning to come to the fashion show?”

  She frowned. “Of course!”

  “Is Dad coming too?”

  “Sure, and so is Sam. Grandma’s even planning to drive down to see you.”

  Good grief. My whole family would see me humiliate myself.

  Mom dropped me outside the main entrance to the mall. I went inside and down the escalator to the basement floor. We were practicing where Stevenson’s men’s store used to be, because it was still empty. I rounded the corner and saw Ginger, Tiffany, and Heather standing in front of Stevenson’s. The new front was under construction, and there was white paper over the glass front, so you couldn’t see inside the store.

  “We thought you weren’t coming!” Ginger squealed. She ran over to me.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I said.

  “We came with Lisa, and we were worried when you didn’t show up.”

  I checked my watch. “I’m five minutes early.”

  “Really?” Ginger said. “We thought maybe you’d forgotten about it.”

  “Well, I didn’t, so you can stop worrying and go home now.”

  “Lisa didn’t think she needed us to stay,” Ginger said, “but we could wait here for you, if you want. You’ll probably have breaks, and we can keep you energized.”

  “Thanks anyway.”

  “Well, okay,” Ginger said. “But memorize every detail so you can tell us what happened.”

  “I’m sure Lisa will tell you all about it.”

  “But that’ll just be her side of things,” Ginger said. “We want to hear about it from you, too.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, have a fantastic time!” Ginger said. She didn’t move. “We’ll wait till you get inside.”

  I rolled my eyes. “See you.”

  I went into the store. A circle of sixteen chairs stood in the middle of the floor, facing the center. Most of the chairs were already filled. Girls my age and older sat in the circle. Ms. Landers stooped over a table at the side of the room, looking at a large notebook. She glanced up at me.

  “Hi, Lizard. Come and get a name tag.”

  When I walked across the room to the table, the other girls looked me up and down critically. It reminded me of the way my dad looks over a side of beef at the locker before he buys it. I guess they were wondering if I’d be competition for that hundred-dollar Supermodel prize.

  I picked up my name tag, put it on, and sat down in the closest empty chair. Next to me was an older girl with long, dark, wavy hair and eyebrows that looked crayoned onto her face.

  “Hi,” she said. She squinted at my tag. “Lizard? That’s an unusual name.”

  “I know.”

  Her tag said ABBY BOWEN. She wiped her palms on her pants. “I’m really nervous. Are you?”

  I shrugged. “I’d rather be playing baseball.”

  “You’re kidding. What school do you go to?”

  “Truman.”

  “What grade?”

  “Sixth. How about you?”

  “I’m a freshman at West.” She grinned. “This is so exciting!”

  I nodded, even though I didn’t think this was at all exciting.

  “Okay, ladies,” Ms. Landers said. “I think everyone is here, so we’ll get started.”

  She picked up her notebook and sat in the last vacant chair in the circle.

  “I’m Ms. Landers, the fashion show director and coordinator. Next to me is Samantha Pauling, my assistant. We have fourteen models here, ages twelve to eighteen. I’m very happy about the group this year, and I think we’ll have a great show. You’ll each be modeling four outfits. I’ve chosen four songs, and you’ll come down the runway alone, in pairs, or in groups wearing your outfit for each song. I have the whole show choreographed, and we’
ll learn it at tomorrow’s rehearsal.”

  Lisa raised her hand.

  “Yes, Lisa?”

  “It’s choreographed? Are we going to dance?”

  “We’re going to move to the music and learn our cues to enter by listening to the songs.”

  “Oh. Well, I asked because I’ve taken dance lessons since I was five.”

  “That should be helpful,” Ms. Landers said. “But not necessary.”

  Ms. Landers turned over a couple of pages in her notebook. “First, I’m going to give each of you your store assignments and a list of the clothes you’ll be modeling during the show. Eight of the mall stores have clothes to be shown. You’ll each wear something from half the stores. It’ll be your responsibility, in the next week, to make an appointment for fittings.”

  An excited murmur ran around the circle. “That’ll be so much fun!” Abby whispered.

  Yuck. What a way to spend valuable baseball-playing hours.

  “Samantha, will you pass out the assignments to everyone, please?” Ms. Landers asked. Samantha walked around the circle and handed out sheets of paper to each girl.

  I was assigned to wear clothes from Pearson’s (junior clothes), McCloud’s (sporting goods and apparel), Claussen’s (a ritzy store I’d never been in) and The Trap (a place that sells mostly jeans and stuff to go with them).

  I glanced down the list of clothes I was supposed to model.

  1. Jeans, polo shirt, socks, cross-training shoes

  2. Denim skirt, blouse, pumps

  3. Swimsuit

  4. Column dress

  I gawked at number three. A swimsuit? Panic gripped at my chest. I couldn’t wear a swimsuit! I glanced around at the other girls in the circle. Any one of them could model a swimsuit better than I could!

  I looked at Lisa. Maybe she would trade with me. I was sure she’d love to wear a swimsuit.

  “Are there any questions?” Ms. Landers asked.

  Yes! Do I have to wear a swimsuit? Could I trade with Lisa St. George, who would love to show off her chest, which is practically the size of Cincinnati?

  Of course, I didn’t ask.

  “What are you wearing?” Abby whispered. I showed her my sheet. “A swimsuit?” Her eyes got big, and she looked over at my chest. “Wow.”

  I felt my cheeks heat up.