Switching Goals

by Alex Morgan

  “Maisie, go wash that off,” Mom said.

  “That’s not fair!” Maisie cried. “Why does Devin get to be a model and I don’t?”

  “I’m not really a pro model, Maisie,” I said. “I’m just trying it out.”

  “Then why can’t I try it out?” Maisie asked.

  Mom sighed. “Maisie, I’m not really sure how I feel about this whole modeling thing. It’s already making you think you have to wear makeup, and I certainly don’t want to expose you to any more of that at your age. Now please go and wash your face.”

  Maisie frowned, turned around, and stomped up the stairs.

  Dad and I burst out laughing.

  “That was . . . frightening,” I said in a loud whisper.

  “Poor Maisie,” Dad said through his laughter.

  “This isn’t funny!” Mom said firmly. “Don’t you see? Maisie felt like she needed to wear all that makeup to be ‘discovered.’ ”

  “Well, I don’t even wear that much makeup at the shoots,” I said. “She just doesn’t know better.”

  “I know,” Mom said, “but how do you feel during the shoots, Devin? Do you ever feel, like, uncomfortable? Like you’re being judged for how you look?”

  I had to think about that. I’d felt uncomfortable at first being poked and prodded, but no one had ever told me there was anything wrong with how I looked or tried to make me something I wasn’t. I didn’t feel like I needed to wear makeup, but I liked what Tenshi put on me when I was there.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t feel weird or anything. I kind of like it. And I still look like me.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” Mom said. “I just hope you would be honest with me if you ever felt differently. Promise?”

  I nodded. “I promise,” I said. “So what are you going to do about Maisie?”

  “If she really wants to model, she can wait until she’s twelve, like you,” Mom said. “I think that’s fair.”

  “It’s not fair!” Maisie marched back in the room, her face scrubbed but with some traces of makeup still streaked on it.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Maisie,” Mom said. “Now can we please all have a nice dinner together? Devin, you can shower after; we’re just about ready now.”

  Maisie frowned and didn’t reply. She and I set the table, and Maisie was quiet as she poked at her salad. I usually don’t feel bad for Maisie, but today I did. She had tried really hard with that makeup, even though it was a mess.

  “Maisie, you can come to a shoot with me if I get another one,” I offered. “See what it’s like.”

  Maisie looked up from her plate. “Really?” she asked hopefully.

  “That’s very nice of you, Devin,” Mom said. “Maisie, you are welcome to come, but I have to warn you, modeling shoots can be long and more boring than you think. You’ll have to bring a book to keep you busy, like I do.”

  Maisie nodded. “Yes, yes, I will!” she said, smiling again. “Maybe I’ll get discovered!”

  “If you do, we’ll have to tell them to wait a few years,” Mom said.

  Maisie considered this. Finally, she nodded. “Good. That will give us time to work out a fair contract.” She turned to me and smiled. “Thanks, Devin.”

  Maisie doesn’t smile at me a lot. Usually, she’s just being annoying. But I was starting to figure out that it might not be easy being a little sister. She got to see me doing all kinds of cool things that she wasn’t old enough to do yet. When I was little, I’d never had that experience. I always got to discover new things on my own.

  “No problem, Maisie,” I told her.

  Just as we were finishing diner, Mom’s cell phone beeped, and she picked it up.

  “Wow, that’s weird,” she said. “It’s Ashanta. She wants to know if you can do a shoot on Saturday morning.”

  I frowned. “I don’t know. I have a game at one o’clock. Would I be done on time?”

  Mom quickly texted. “Ashanta says it’s one look, in a park, and the call time is eight a.m. It should only take an hour or two. So you’d be done in time for the game.”

  I thought about it. I didn’t like the idea of cutting it so close to my game, but a photo shoot in a park instead of a studio sounded like a lot of fun. And maybe if I made more money, I could keep working on the plane ticket idea with Mom.

  “Do it, Devin!” Maisie urged. “Do it! Do it!”

  “Okay, I’ll do it!” I said.

  “Yay!” Maisie cheered.

  I’ll get up extra early that day and go on a run, I thought. I’ll be ready for the game! Ashanta hasn’t steered me wrong yet.

  • • •

  The next morning at school, I noticed that Emma was missing from the classes that we had together. She wasn’t in the cafeteria when I got there, either.

  “Has anybody seen Emma?” I asked Frida, Zoe, and Jessi when I reached our lunch table.

  “No,” Zoe replied. “It’s weird. I texted her to see if she was out sick, but she didn’t reply. I’m worried that something might be . . . Oh, wow!”

  Zoe’s eyes had gotten big, and she was staring past me. I turned to see Emma there. She didn’t look sick at all, but she was wearing glasses.

  “Emma! Is this why you were out this morning?” Zoe asked.

  Emma sat down next to Zoe and sighed. “Yes.”

  Zoe took the glasses off of Emma’s face. “They’re so cute! I love these frames. Turquoise tortoiseshell. Very cool.”

  “After school I’m going to practice putting in contacts,” Emma said. “The eye doctor said they’re easy to use and they’ll be better when I’m playing soccer—”

  “Wait, what exactly happened?” Jessi interrupted. “One day you didn’t need glasses, and now you do?”

  Emma shook her head. “Actually, I’ve been having trouble seeing things in the distance for a few months now.”

  “Like at practice yesterday, when you thought I was Grace?” I remembered.

  “Exactly,” Emma answered. “Mom noticed me squinting, so she made an appointment with the eye doctor for me. So here I am.” She put the glasses back on and made a face.

  “Don’t do that! You look adorable!” Zoe told her.

  Emma unpacked her lunch. “I guess,” she said. “I’m just a little upset because it’s so complicated, you know? Now I always have to remember glasses, contacts, eye exams. What a pain!”

  “But this is good news for your soccer game,” Jessi pointed out. “You were a great goalie before, and you couldn’t see the field that well. Imagine how much better you’ll be now that you can see clearly!”

  Frida gasped and dropped her sandwich. “Emma, of course! It’s your fortune! ‘You will learn to see things in a new way.’ ”

  “Whoa,” Emma said, her eyes wide. “You are right!” She shivered. “Okay, this is starting to get creepy.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Zoe said. “My fortune hasn’t come true. And neither has Devin’s. And as for your glasses, there are lots of ways to ‘see things in a new way.’ It’s just a coincidence!”

  “Are you kidding? I got glasses! It’s not a coincidence—it’s real!” Emma said. She turned to Frida. “You need to ask the creators of their app how it works. Maybe they’re real-life wizards or something.”

  “I think they’re just two software guys from Oakland,” Frida replied. “But I bet they would love to get a testimonial from you.”

  “Did you film the commercial yet?” I asked.

  Frida nodded. “Yes, and I’m going back to do a photo shoot for a print ad,” she said. “Hey, did you really do a second modeling gig? Is this a new career for you, Devin?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m starting to like it. And I have another shoot on Saturday.”

  “We have a game on Saturday,” Jessi reminded me.

  “I know that,” I answered. “The shoot is early. I’ll make the game.”

  “You’d better!” Jessi said. “I know I said not to worry so much, b
ut don’t give up soccer just to take some pictures.”

  “Hey!” Frida protested.

  “You know what I mean,” Jessi said. “I mean, modeling is cool, I guess, but soccer is important. You know?”

  “What’s so much more important about kicking a ball up and down a field?” Frida shot back.

  “Sports develop skills like cooperation and discipline,” Jessi countered.

  “You need those things to be a model, too,” Frida said. “Right, Devin?”

  Frida was right. I used to not realize it, but you definitely had to work together on a shoot. Not only was there teamwork involved, but you also needed to practice and be able to take direction. Modeling required a lot more skills than I had originally thought. It was more than just being able to take a pretty picture. Yet there was something more energizing about teamwork on the soccer field. I did feel more important as part of a soccer team than I did as part of a photo shoot, but maybe that was just because I had a soccer-ball brain. The experience had definitely given me a lot to think about.

  “I like doing both,” I said. “But I guess soccer will always come first. At least I think so.”

  “Then why are you doing modeling instead of the game?” Jessi asked.

  “I never said that. I told you I’m doing both,” I said. “It won’t be a problem.”

  Jessi didn’t look convinced. “Hmmm.”

  “Don’t worry, Jessi,” I said. “I won’t let you down.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By 11:55 on Saturday, I knew I was going to let Jessi down. And not just Jessi—my coach, my team, and myself.

  Things had started going wrong the moment I woke up. I had forgotten to set my phone alarm, so I didn’t get in the morning run I had planned. Instead, I woke up to Mom shaking me awake.

  “Devin, we’ve got to get to that shoot by eight!” she said. “Hurry up and get dressed as quickly as you can.”

  I slowly opened my eyes and picked up the phone on the side of my bed. “It’s only seven o’clock.”

  “And the shoot is forty-five minutes away,” Mom said. “If there’s traffic, we’ll be late. So make it fast, Devin!”

  I took a quick shower and left the house with my hair wet, dressed in the only clean clothes I could find in my drawers: a pink T-shirt with hearts on it and purple sweatpants. I slipped on flip-flops and went downstairs, where Maisie was anxiously waiting.

  “Wow, Devin. You don’t look like a model today,” Maisie said. “Maybe they’ll ask me to take your place.”

  That’s when I noticed that Maisie looked pretty adorable, in a white sleeveless dress with little blue flowers on it. A matching flowered headband pulled her brown hair away from her face.

  “Maybe they will,” I said. I couldn’t argue. I definitely didn’t feel like a model at that moment.

  I grabbed a protein bar and a yogurt shake to eat in the car, and we drove to the park, making it just in time. The whole scene looked chaotic. There was a trailer set up and a bunch of people walking around carrying phones and electronic equipment and stuff like that. I didn’t see a familiar face this time.

  A woman with a clipboard walked up to me.

  “Devin? One of Ashanta’s, right?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Is she here?”

  “Nope!” the woman said. “Okay, I need you in the wardrobe trailer. Thanks.”

  Mom and Maisie followed me to the trailer, but I went inside by myself. I was hoping to see Tenshi, but instead I found a woman with short black hair.

  “Who are you?” she asked me in a flat voice.

  “Devin Burke,” I replied.

  She looked me up and down. “Really? Okay. You’re gonna need some extra time in the hair chair. Go see Gary.”

  She pointed to a guy with spiky blond hair standing behind a hairdresser’s chair.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Devin.”

  “Have a seat, Devin,” he said. He slid the ponytail holder out of my hair. “Oh boy. You know they make this thing called a hairbrush, right?”

  I could feel my cheeks getting hot. “Sorry. I was kind of in a hurry this morning.”

  Gary started spraying stuff in my hair and sighed. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix this in no time!”

  In ten minutes my hair was sleek, shiny, and bouncing on my shoulders. I’d never done a shoot with it down. Then the woman with dark hair, Delia, instructed me to change into some black leggings with a pink tank top and matching hoodie. In the changing area in the back of the trailer, I found three other girls getting dressed. Nobody said hello.

  Okay, it’s kind of like a locker room, I thought, and I quickly changed into the workout outfit. Then I headed outside. Mom and Maisie were sitting on a park bench—well, Mom was sitting, but Maisie was standing in front of her, doing model poses. Mom was shaking her head. I walked over to the other girls who had been in the changing room with me. Maybe it would be easier to talk to them when we weren’t all getting dressed, I reasoned.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Devin.”

  They were all staring at their cell phone screens.

  “Aubrey,” said a girl with freckled skin and straight blond hair, looking up for one millisecond to nod at me.

  The brown-skinned girl with curly hair standing next to her looked at me. “Julianna.”

  The third girl, who had dark brown hair and a golden tan, didn’t tell me her name at all.

  Okay, I thought. Let’s get this over with!

  But that wasn’t going to be as easy as we thought. We milled outside for at least twenty minutes, and nobody told us what to do. Then I realized I didn’t see a photographer.

  I walked over to the woman with the clipboard who had greeted me and overheard her talking to a guy in a yellow T-shirt with a YL logo on it and the word “youthleisure” underneath it in script.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus is always late,” she was saying. “But you wanted the best, and he’s the best!”

  “Fine, but I’m not paying everyone to wait for him,” the guy responded.

  “Actually, you are,” the woman told him. “It’s in your contract.”

  The man scowled and walked away. I headed over to Mom.

  “I think the photographer’s late,” I told her. “Do you think we’ll still make it to the game?” I thought of Jessi and her warnings.

  She looked at her phone. “We still have hours until the game starts. I think we’ll be fine,” she said. Then she looked me up and down. “Very nice, Devin. I like this outfit.”

  “Me too,” Maisie said. “You look pretty.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I knew I would be on Maisie’s good side for a little while, since I’d let her come to the shoot. At least I had that going for me.

  So we waited for the photographer. And we waited . . . and waited some more.

  “I am sooooo bored,” Maisie moaned.

  “Me too,” I agreed.

  “Can’t we just leave?” Maisie asked.

  “I don’t think that would be professional,” I replied.

  Mom frowned. “I don’t think this photographer is being very professional,” she said.

  The photographer, a blond guy wearing sunglasses, finally showed up around ten o’clock.

  Delia stormed up to him. “Marcus, seriously?”

  He shrugged. “Traffic, Delia,” he said with a yawn. “Not my fault.”

  Delia rolled her eyes. “The models are ready for you.”

  Marcus started ordering around some people whom I guessed were assistants, and they set up two cameras in front of this big weeping willow tree. Then Delia snapped at us to all stand by the tree.

  Marcus didn’t even ask us our names.

  “Girl in blue! Lean against the tree! Girl in pink, stand next to her!”

  I obeyed and stood next to Aubrey.

  “Other side!” Marcus barked, and I quickly moved to what I thought was the right position. Then he got the other models to pose too.

  But then he kept making us move around. �
�Pink, switch with green! No, no, no. Move closer. Not that close.”

  This must have gone on for half an hour, at least, before he started taking any photos.

  “Smile!” he yelled.

  We all smiled. But I sure didn’t feel like it. I don’t think any of the other girls did either. Marcus couldn’t even bother to learn our names. I felt like a prop, not a person. It made me think about how the photographer was like a coach. They could get the best out of you by being nice, like Coach Flores. They could even be super strict, like Coach Darby, and you could still learn a lot. But even though Coach Darby was tough, she called us all by name. At least when you joined a team, you got to know your coach, and they got to know you. But so far with modeling, I’ve worked with a new photographer every time, and clearly they were all very different.

  Finally, after it seemed like we’d posed in every way possible, I thought we were finally done. I was eager to get changed and get to my game before I let my entire team down.

  “Can we get changed yet?” Julianna asked.

  “Not yet,” Delia said. “Marcus might need more shots.”

  And of course, Marcus did want more shots. He wanted the tan girl who didn’t tell me her name to put her hair in a ponytail. He wanted Aubrey and Julianna to switch hoodies. Then we took some more photos.

  “Pink, show some teeth when you smile!” he told me.

  And then, “No, Pink, smile with your eyes only and close your mouth!”

  It was like nothing we did made him happy!

  It was a quarter to twelve by the time he finished the second round of shots. I anxiously waited on the sidelines with Mom as he looked over the footage he had taken.

  “That’s a wrap!” he called out, and I sighed with relief.

  “Great,” I told Mom. “We can still make it to the game on time.”

  Mom nodded. “Right. Just change into your uniform, and I’ll take you right to the field.”

  Then it hit me. “Um, I forgot to bring my uniform with me.” I’d gotten off on such a wrong foot that morning that I hadn’t even thought of it.

  “Devin!” Mom said, and then she sighed. “It’s fine. We should still make it in time.”