“Not really.”
“Kevin said to tell you that someone left a phone message for you, he thinks.” Joanne’s lips curled into a smile.
“What do you mean, ‘he thinks’?”
Joanne stared back at her. “Just what I said.”
She sat up in bed, groaning. “Will you just please tell me what you mean?”
“It’s hard to hear who’s on the voice mail,” came the reply.
“So . . . it’s still not fixed?”
“Better go listen,” Joanne said. “Maybe you’ll recognize the voice.”
Why should I care?
Joanne stood there, like she was waiting for Heather to get up and go to the phone. “Well, are you going?”
“Not now . . . I’m tired.”
“And crabby,” Joanne whispered.
But Heather had heard her sister. “Please close the door.”
“You want me to leave?”
“Please.” The sooner the better, she thought.
Taking her time, Joanne shut the door behind her. And Heather leaned back on her bed, closing her eyes. But now it was impossible to fall asleep again. She was too curious. Who had left the message? One of her friends from church, probably. Or maybe one of her Girls Only friends.
But she’d just been with Jenna, Livvy, and Manda. So . . . what would they want? The more she thought about it, the more she wondered, secretly, if Micky Waller had called.
“Micky wants to talk to you,” Livvy had said on the phone the other day.
That got her up. She slipped down the hall to her parents’ room and checked the voice mail. Joanne was right. It was almost impossible to hear who was talking. Almost.
Thank goodness she’d checked before Dad and Mom did. Yes, she was fairly sure it was Micky. But the number he’d left where he could be reached wasn’t clear. At least he’d called. That was enough.
Feeling better just thinking about a boy calling her, she hurried downstairs. She opened the refrigerator and found a jar of peanut butter. She spread a small amount on two long stalks of celery and ate them both. She’d broken her fast, but the snack might curb her appetite for supper.
She headed downstairs to the family room, only to discover Kevin lifting weights in the corner of the room. “I’m next,” she told him.
Kevin spouted back. “Since when do you just waltz in here and demand to be next?”
“Since right now.”
He was silent. She’d made him angry. Not a good thing for either their working relationship or their brother-sister rapport. Neither one.
She waited her turn, wishing somehow they could clear the air between them. She wanted to improve their skating relationship especially. Fact was, she’d never forgiven him for dropping her.
“Did you get your phone message?” he asked when he was finally finished. On his way past her.
“Maybe.”
He shook his head and left the room.
Eyeing the exercise equipment, she set the timer for one hour. Instead of doing homework, she was going to lift arm and leg weights for a solid sixty minutes. Since Mom was probably at the grocery store, she figured she would be fine with this. Nobody had to know.
She turned on the contemporary Christian station—one in Colorado Springs—that made its way to Alpine Lake. She was glad they got the station, because the town was too small to support its own major stations.
So she worked out, hard as she could, the upbeat music and her own thoughts filling her mind.
Photo Perfect
Chapter Fourteen
On Monday, two days before the modeling agency came to town, Heather asked her mother if she could go and “try out.”
“How are you going to fit everything into your life?” Mom asked.
She was ready for that question. “I can do it,” she said. “I’ll work even harder if I have to.”
“Well, how do we know these folks are legitimate?”
“Call Natalie Johnston. Do you think Natalie would advertise something that wasn’t on the level?”
Mom glanced toward the ceiling. “Seems to me, your father and I will have to check things out. If you go at all.”
“Oh please, Mom, won’t you come with me? Ask whatever questions you want to, just let me interview.” She was starting to feel desperate.
Mom sat her down in the living room. “Honey . . . can you tell me, is this the reason you’ve quit eating?”
She looked away. “I haven’t quit, not completely,” she said softly.
“Do you want to be a model more than anything else?” asked Mom.
“Not more than skating, but I do want to see if I have a chance.”
Mom touched her hand. “You haven’t been yourself for over a week, Heather. I want to help you.”
She remembered hearing her mother’s prayer last week—the night she’d crept to the kitchen for some crackers and milk. She knew her mother was concerned, but there was no need. “I don’t need help, Mom.”
“I think you do. And I’ve made an appointment with the doctor.” The corners of Mom’s eyes were glistening. “Tomorrow, after lunch, we’ll go together.”
She knew there was no talking Mom out of this. She was determined; motivated by what, Heather didn’t know.
“I’m not sick,” she said, making an effort. “I don’t need a doctor.”
“Well, he can check on your knee, at least.” Mom got up and reached for Heather. “I love you, kiddo. You’re going to be just fine.”
Just fine . . .
How did her mother know? Did she have any idea what was going on? Did she?
Before supper, the phone rang. Fortunately, Heather answered on the second ring. “Bock residence.”
“Heather . . . is that you?”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes, and who’s this?”
“It’s Micky Waller. Remember, we talked at the mall rink last week?”
Sure, she remembered. How could she forget? “Hi, Micky. How’s it going?”
“I called you before, but your voice mail sounded strange.”
“It was, but it’s fixed now,” she told him, not sure what else to say.
“That’s cool.”
There was a long, awkward pause. Heather didn’t know if she should speak first or if Micky should. She felt terribly tense. Was this how it was when a boy called a girl? They hardly knew what to say to each other?
At last, he said, “I saw an ad for a modeling agency at Natalie Johnston’s studio.”
“Really? I saw it, too.”
“So . . . are you going to try out?” he asked.
“I might.”
“Hey, really? Well, guess what? I’m going over there, too.” He went on to say that he heard the agency was looking for kids, boys, girls, and older people.
“You’re kidding, it’s not just for girls?” she asked.
“No, and they offer commercial, runway, and catalog opportunities,” he said. “My dad called the phone number listed on the ad. They actually get you set up for a portfolio and slides and everything.”
“For how much?”
“I think it’s six hundred dollars.”
“That much?” she said.
“Seems like a lot, but if you make the final, final cut, they’ll make appointments with different modeling companies for you. It’s great.”
She wondered if Micky was planning a future in skating. But she didn’t ask. She didn’t care, not really. Her interest in Micky was purely shallow. She thought he was nice, of course—and cute—but she didn’t have time for a close friendship with a boy. Not at her age.
“Well, thanks for the info,” she said, thinking she ought to get going.
“Uh, sure. Can I call you again?”
“You know what? It might be better if we just talk to each other at the rink sometimes. I’m so busy with training and my homework.” She told him she was homeschooled, too. “We have lots of hours and requirements to meet for the state of Colorado.”
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“That kind of study is real tough, isn’t it?”
“We like it that way. No time wasted, you know”
They said their good-byes, and by the time the conversation was over, Heather felt she knew Micky much better than before. But most of all, she was surprised that the agency was accepting boys.
* * *
Their family doctor seemed almost too pleased to have her visit. “Let’s see how that knee’s healing,” he said, poking and prodding at it. She walked down the hall and up, turned her feet inside and out for him. Even twirled on the carpet to show him how “just fine” her knee was.
But the one-on-one conversation she had with the doctor—Mom outside, in the waiting room—was the most painful. “Your mother tells me you haven’t been eating much lately,” he began.
She nodded.
“Are you not feeling well these days, Heather?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“I see.” He folded his arms across his chest, studying her through his glasses. “Still have a good appetite?”
“Yes.”
“Just aren’t eating?”
“Yes.”
“And can you tell me why that is?” He tilted his head the way her father often did when he was probing for answers.
“Well, I want to look skinny . . . uh, thin.”
“According to our charts, you’re quite slender, just as you are.”
“But I want to be thinner.”
“Is there any particular reason why?”
She chuckled slightly under her breath. Doc wasn’t going to hear about Kevin today. Nobody needed to know how angry she was at him. “I skate lots better when I feel light, that’s all.”
“Yes, I suppose you do,” he replied, getting up and going to the table. He brought back with him a small model of a human skeleton. “Have you ever seen one of these?”
“Only here, in your office.”
“Do you understand that there are many aspects to our bodies?” He paused. “Our bones need certain foods in order to maintain health.” He continued on, reciting the importance of tissue, muscles, and nerves. “All essential to hold us together.” Here, he smiled at her. “We need food to recharge our human machine.”
He wasn’t telling her anything new.
“Any questions?” he asked.
“No.”
“All right, then I’ll see you back again next week.”
Next week?
“I’m coming back so soon?” She didn’t get it.
“Each week, we’ll talk . . . okay with you?”
She was still baffled. This was a first. Something Mom had dreamed up, or what?
Before she left, the nurse weighed her and measured her height, recording it in a book.
Very weird, she thought.
Photo Perfect
Chapter Fifteen
By some miracle, Heather’s parents consented to allow her to try out with the modeling agency. Mom accompanied her, arriving a half hour before the place actually opened.
They sat in the car, chatting calmly. Mom wasn’t pushy, even though she had every right to be. Yet Heather could hardly wait to go through the process of being chosen or not.
By the time the doors opened, at least fifty people had gathered. Even several men and women. But mostly girls her age had come, along with several boys. A few small children were present with their mothers, too.
First thing, she was asked to fill out a questionnaire, asking her vital statistics: chest, waist, and hip measurements. Along with that, her height and weight. She knew her weight and height precisely because she had been weighed at the doctor’s office yesterday. One hundred and two pounds . . . five feet four inches. She’d lost three pounds in almost two weeks. Not bad.
When her name was called, two women, beautifully dressed and made up, looked her over, starting with her face. She was also asked to show her hands. “Do you have any scars or tattoos?” one asked her.
“None.”
She noticed that most of the girls were at least five feet six inches or taller. She was one of the shortest girls in her age group. Also, one of the thinnest.
“Please have a seat, Miss Heather Bock,” one of the women judges said.
Miss Heather Bock. Had a nice ring to it, she decided.
Heather and her mother waited together until the next group of contestants was called. “Do you think I’ll make the first cut?” she asked her mother, crossing her legs at the ankles and sliding them under the chair.
“Oh, honey, I’m sure you will.” Mom seemed so confident, so poised. Just the way Heather wanted to be. “But if not, please don’t take this hard. It’s just two women’s opinions.”
She knew what Mom was getting at. Still, she wanted to be chosen so badly.
“Always remember that what God thinks of you is what truly counts. You don’t have to prove anything to your heavenly Father.”
“I know, Mom.” Yet Heather fought it. More than anything, she wanted to be accepted here on earth. By friends and family. By her skating partner.
“Promise you won’t be upset if you don’t make the final cut?” Mom was saying.
“But . . . what if I do? What then?”
“We’ll talk about it if that does, indeed, happen.”
“So I might be able to do some modeling in my free time?” she asked.
“We’ll see.”
She had a strange feeling her mother knew something she didn’t. But she wasn’t bailing out yet. She was going to hold her breath for this.
At long last, the names of girls in her age category were called. The names were called alphabetically. Her name was the fourth on the list!
“What’ll I do now?” she whispered.
“Follow instructions, dear.” Mom waited while Heather was asked to walk up and down a long aisle, with folding chairs set up on either side.
She felt very much like she did when she was skating. Gliding was more like it. She knew how to put one leg in front of the other, point her feet, and move gracefully.
“Thanks, Miss Bock,” the woman said. “Can you and your mother return this evening?”
“Yes, I believe we can.”
“At that time, we’ll give you additional information about our company, how long we’ve been in business . . . that sort of thing. We can’t guarantee any certain type of job, be it runway or catalog.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “Thank you.”
She could hardly keep from dashing back to the area where Mom sat. “I made it! They want me,” she said. “Can you believe this is happening?”
Mom smiled and gave her a big hug. “Honey, I know how beautiful you are. No, I’m not a bit surprised.”
* * *
Joanne and Tommy were surprised, though. And impressed. They trotted around behind her at home all afternoon. “Make way for Queen Heather,” Joanne kept saying.
“I’ll hold the edge of your royal robe,” Tommy said.
“And I’ll make her crown!” declared Joanne.
“Will you two cut it out,” Heather said. “Mom, make them stop!”
Mom did her best, but when they were supposed to be working on social studies at the table, Joanne kept whispering, “Your Majesty . . .”
“Quit it,” she whispered back. “I can’t concentrate on my work.”
Kevin sat at the opposite end of the table. “You’ve got it coming, Heather,” he said.
“Meaning what?” she demanded.
“You know.” But he refused to explain.
Heather told herself she really didn’t care at all. Let him say what he wanted. Truth was, he was the problem.
* * *
“Are we going back tonight?” Heather asked before supper.
“Maybe you and I will go together,” Mom said. “You know how Dad feels about skipping church on Wednesday nights.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She hadn’t even remembered. “How do you feel about being chosen?” Mom asked.
; “Fine, if Joanne and Tommy would settle down about it.”
Mom nodded, turning to open the cupboard, reaching for five plates. “I think you should have a long talk with Kevin before you decide about modeling, though.”
“Why?”
“Kevin’s future is on the line if you become distracted with something other than skating.”
She’d gotten so caught up in her own interests, she hadn’t even thought of Kevin. Or how any of this would affect him. “Do I have to talk to him?”
“Kevin’s the other half of your ice-dancing partnership,” Mom said. “You’ll have to deal with him first.”
She took a deep breath, not looking forward to discussing things with her older brother. “I’ll be in my room,” she told Mom.
“Heather?” Mom called after her.
She turned to see Mom standing with her apron on, holding the dishes and the paper napkins. “Have you prayed about any of this?”
“Not really.”
“Well, honey, will you?” Mom’s last effort.
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll pray.”
What could it hurt?
Photo Perfect
Chapter Sixteen
They want me, she thought, standing at her bedroom window, looking out. She honestly believed that her plan to boycott eating, losing the few extra pounds, was the real reason she had been picked.
“I have the look,” she whispered to the sky.
The sun was setting over the mountains, casting a purplish glow over the snow-scattered lawn and trees. She leaned on the windowsill and wondered how things might’ve turned out if she hadn’t gone on the crash diet. Would she have been thin enough?
Mom wants me to pray, she thought. Yet inside, she felt proud of her personal accomplishments. So what if Kevin didn’t approve. She could fit everything into her schedule. She knew she could.
What she really wanted to do was phone Livvy, tell her the good news. But she’d told her mother she was coming to her room to talk to God.
Standing in the window while the sun shed its daytime duties, giving in to the twilight, she began to pray. “Dear Lord, since you know me so well, I’m sure you must know how really excited I am right now. It’s so amazing to be chosen like this.”
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