Modelland

by Tyra Banks

  ZhenZhen dove straight toward the thorns. Right before they should have impaled her, the thick vines parted, revealing a new path made of mirrorlike stones. “Come on, girls!” she called over her shoulder. “You are now entering Beautification Boulevard! This is where all your classes will occur, assuming, of course, that you survive THBC!”

  “THBC?” Tookie swallowed. “What’s that?”

  ZhenZhen turned around, her face reddening. “Actually, I’m not supposed to mention it,” she whispered. “I really wish I could tell you, but Guru Gunnero likes to keep it secret. I’ll give you one teensy hint: it’s a special test not for the fashion weak or faint of heart.”

  Tookie dared a glance at the other girls. Shiraz, Piper, Dylan, and quite a few others in the group looked nervous. Zarpessa, on the other hand, shrugged nonchalantly, tossing her auburn hair over her shoulder.

  Then ZhenZhen whipped around and continued to walk. “Beautification Boulevard consists of dozens of distinct structures, each designed specifically for one class,” she explained. “Each structure’s architecture directly correlates to the subject matter you experience within them. Ci~L was a master at all of her courses on this row. To this day, not one student has surpassed her extraordinary skill.”

  Zarpessa flounced the ends of her yellow dress. “That’s because I just got here.”

  Tookie looked down the boulevard. At the far end was a large, open-work structure shaped like an immense egg. A narrow wooden plank traversed its center and there was a scoreboard. Spectator seats lined the inside of the frame.

  What kind of game is that for? Tookie wondered.

  “That,” ZhenZhen said, pointing at the egg building as though reading Tookie’s mind, “is the OrbArena, where pretty boys and gorgeous girls battle in ManAttack, the one class you’ll have with our brother male modeling academy, Bestosterone.”

  “Bring it on!” Chaste crowed. “Can we do that today?”

  “No, we never know when ManAttack will happen,” ZhenZhen said. “It’s always a surprise. And anyway, girls, males are accessories at Modelland. Don’t ever forget: we’re the stars, not the boys. Yeah, they do some modeling stuff, but basically we have them here to work for us: build our buildings, provide security and eye candy … that sort of thing.”

  They continued down the boulevard, passing more fantastical and unique structures. A windowless plaid cube, about the size of a department store, balanced on the very tip of one of its corners. To the left, Tookie saw a ship bobbing on a body of water that seemed to appear from nowhere. Through the round portholes, she could just make out a class in session. A group of girls stood in neat, even rows, making bizarre faces in unison.

  “That boat building is where CaraCaraCara class takes place,” ZhenZhen explained.

  Tookie wasn’t sure if she should feel excited or alarmed. She’d never been on a boat before—the only opportunity to go on the water in Metopia was on a yacht in LaDorno, and only the rich got to do that.

  Then Tookie swiveled around and stared in the other direction down the boulevard, fixing her eyes on an immense octagon-shaped course broken up by high walls, gravel pits, flamethrowers, ropes that whipped indiscriminately, jutting corners, sections of runways, and, of all things, spinning dance floors. As if that wasn’t confusing enough, thumping trance music began to pump loudly from the space.

  Shiraz started bopping to the beat. Dylan smirked. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

  Tookie watched Shiraz, feeling a familiar pang. Shiraz’s dancing reminded her of Myrracle. But then, Shiraz was much more pleasant to be around.

  “So what is that place? Tookie asked ZhenZhen after the impromptu dance party had ended. “It looks like an obstacle course or something.”

  “You’re very close.” ZhenZhen smiled at her. “The final-year Bellas—that would be me and my class—train on that course for the 7Seven Tournament.”

  Dylan raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t know the 7Sevens actually trained. I thought it was just about who was the prettiest.”

  “Which certainly wouldn’t be you,” Zarpessa said under her breath.

  “The prettiest?” ZhenZhen giggled, addressing Dylan’s question. “Oh, Dylan, haven’t you seen that pretty here is just a commodity, that every girl is easily exchangeable for the next Bella? There’s so much more to the equation.”

  “Equation?” Piper looked excited. “If it deals with mathematics, specifically algorithmic statistics, I’ll be an immense help to you all!”

  Zarpessa rolled her eyes. “Where did Ci~L dig up this idiot savant?” she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. Chaste giggled.

  “There’s no need to worry about the 7Seven Tournament now,” ZhenZhen assured them, ignoring Zarpessa. “You’re years away from competing.”

  Then Tookie noticed a girl wearing a long, flowing giraffe-print gown and five-inch leopard heels running the 7Seven course. She dodged the flames, nimbly cleared the walls, expertly walked the runway upside down, and gracefully performed a dance routine before disappearing into a waterfall.

  ZhenZhen’s nose wrinkled. “Of course Kaitlyn would be practicing already. We aren’t supposed to start until two weeks before the 7Seven announcement. I should report her.” ZhenZhen checked the timepiece on her wrist. “Oh goodness golly gracious, I have to finish fast!” She started walking again. “This is only one section of Modelland. There is much more that you will be allowed to experience firsthand, should you survive THBC. Oops!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Pretend I didn’t say that, okay?”

  “Whatever THBC is, I can’t imagine all of us surviving it,” Zarpessa simpered viciously, eyeing Tookie’s crew. Then ZhenZhen motioned for all the girls in the group except Tookie, Piper, Dylan, and Shiraz to gather together. The girls did so, eyeing Tookie and the others with snarky confusion.

  “I have one last piece of knowledge to share with you.” ZhenZhen leaned in close. “It’s about Catwalk Corridor. Technically, I’m not supposed to warn you about it, but when Ci~L used to give these tours, she always broke the rules a bit and warned the girls. So beware Catwalk Corridor—you never know where it may appear. It’s nothing stinging antiseptic and a tetanus shot can’t fix, but still, it can give you a fright.”

  Tookie’s stomach roiled with dread.

  Then ZhenZhen giggled nervously. “Really, Catwalk Corridor isn’t half as bad as the Ugly Room. You don’t ever want to get sent there. And then there are some of the natural dangers around this place.” She leaned even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You all know about the Diabolical Divide, right? For sure, that’s a big and scary no, no, no—don’t you dare enter it! And there’s more than one way to get to it, so be careful. Rarely, like every few years, but too often if you ask me, the Divide sends out fireballs at Modelland. Many years ago, a fireball landed right on top of the old 7Seven stadium! It burned the whole thing down, and a bunch of girls died! And—”

  Screech!

  A piercing alarm cut off ZhenZhen’s tirade. Hordes of tour groups ran down the boulevard, stampeding past Tookie and her group in a blur of arms and legs.

  ZhenZhen waved her arms around. “That’s the buzzer! Run, girls! To the O! Back through the thorn bush! You know the way! Now!”

  Shiraz took off instantly in a cheetahlike sprint. Piper was close behind her, her gallop precise and efficient, like she was speeding forward but barely moving at the same time. Dylan followed, her run a sexy swagger.

  Tookie had not yet moved. She felt stuck, compelled to observe. Just for a moment.

  She considered her place in this … place. The place every girl in the world wanted to be. The place that produced the only world-famous people on the planet. Where did she fit in here? From the looks of the nearly perfect bodies that ran ahead of her, minus the three misfits who accompanied her on her trek, she knew that she was living not her fate, but someone else’s … Myrracle’s.

  Tookie wasn’t sure if she should just run and hi
de or run to catch up with the girls sprinting toward their destinies.

  “Run!” A kind-faced girl whose eyes were decorated with a SMIZE and who wore a headphone contraption tapped Tookie on the shoulder. “Come on! You can do it!”

  It felt like a sign. Tookie lifted her right leg. Then her left. She started into a run. Four steps later, her large right foot got caught on the back of her left leg. She stumbled, suddenly airborne, then went straight down into a textbook Tookie De La Crème fall.

  15

  THE BELLA DONNA’S BURDEN

  Tookie’s right foot had hit her left leg with the power of a sledgehammer, forcing her knee to give way. But before she could tumble to the ground, she dredged up all her strength. No. Tookie would not crumble. Not this time.

  Screech! the buzzer wailed.

  Tookie regained her balance and ran as fast as she could. ZhenZhen had told her to look for the thorn bush. But where was it? She spied a wall of prickly metallic brush. She hurtled herself into it, just as ZhenZhen had done minutes before. “Ouch!”

  Wrong plant.

  She ran down the street until she spied another wall of thorny vines. Tookie eyed it, not sure if it was friend or foe. But then one of the thorns arched up and seemed to … smile at her. Tookie gawked. Taking a deep breath, she jumped full force toward it. The barbed bush opened, revealing the passageway to the O.

  “Thank you!” she yelled back. The thorny passageway closed with a thwack.

  Tookie ran down the crescent path toward the left side of the M building. The buzzer screeched even louder and faster now, like it was counting down. You’re not going to make it, Tookie. You waited too long back there.

  Modern symphony music grew louder in her ears, the only indication she was making any headway. Tookie rounded the curve at the end of the walkway and came to a wall of … She squinted. Are those … zippers?

  There were hundreds of them. Zippers of all sizes, some as tall as Tookie—perfectly polished ones, broken ones, zippers placed vertically and horizontally. It was obviously a dead end.

  The music in the O swelled. The hideously screeching buzzer was almost a continuous noise. Tookie was running out of time. She whipped around, considering trying a different path, but she was met by yet another wall of zippers behind her. Unfastened zippers, zippers on the diagonal. She turned around once more, and there was another wall of zippers. She was surrounded. Now the only thing Tookie could see was the sky. A flock of rainbow-colored birds flew overhead, seemingly flapping in the direction of the music.

  “Hello?” Tookie called desperately. What if she’d taken a wrong turn and was stuck in this weird zipper room forever? Maybe this was her Modelland fate.

  “Hello?” she screamed again. Rustling made her turn. A stuck zipper started to wobble. The teeth parted and a figure jumped out. Tookie gasped.

  It was Ci~L.

  Ci~L was now wearing a silver and purple bodysuit and a silver circle headpiece framing her face. Dressy somehow. And she didn’t look happy. Tookie cowered, not knowing what to expect. A reprimand? Would Ci~L send Tookie back to Metopia? She felt ashamed that she’d disappointed someone she so badly wanted to impress.

  Ci~L strode toward Tookie and grabbed her arm roughly. “Come on, girl! We gotta move! If you don’t make it to the O before she starts her anthem … Follow me!”

  Turning on her heel, Ci~L scampered up the nearest zipper wall and put one leg into the halfway-stuck zipper through which she’d just emerged. She gazed down at Tookie, who still stood on the ground, dumbstruck. “Well, come on! It’s like you’re mountain climbing.”

  “B-but I’ve never mountain climbed before,” Tookie stammered.

  Ci~L looked exasperated. “That’s no excuse! Fake it till you make it!”

  Mustering up all her courage, Tookie struggled up the zippers, carefully watching her feet to make sure she wouldn’t slip. When she looked up, the last of Ci~L’s foot was disappearing through the half-open zipper. Tookie scrambled to that point herself and looked through the opening. It was pitch-black and as silent as a tomb.

  It’s now or never, Tookie, she thought, and tumbled in. Immediately, she got the sense that she was sliding down, down, down. Screams echoed in her ears. After a moment, she realized they were hers.

  “Stop overreacting!” Ci~L’s voice echoed off the walls. “We’re just in the ZipZap! We’ll be there in a second!”

  “Be … where?” Tookie asked. No answer came.

  Instead of being an opening to the other side of a wall, like Tookie had expected, the zipper fed into a chute filled with fast-flowing air. The air pushed her around curves and down steep drops. It propelled her straight up, up, up, and then down, down, down. Finally, she landed on her butt on a cushy surface and opened her eyes. A jagged slit slowly opened, and daylight rushed in. When Tookie’s eyes adjusted, she could see that she was next to Ci~L. The zipper had let them out in the O plaza. The rest of the Modelland student body stood in front of them, staring at an empty stage.

  “Wow, um … thank you,” Tookie said gratefully to Ci~L.

  The statuesque Intoxibella shrugged.

  Then someone snickered a few feet away. Zarpessa was watching Tookie, a big smirk on her face. Tookie hung her head.

  Ci~L glared at Zarpessa, then grabbed Tookie’s chin hard. “Listen to me. You’re different. Way different. You know that. You’re gonna experience lots of cuts and slices here, but you’d better suck it up—the girl who is sucking your blood is hurting way more than you. Never stoop to her level.”

  Tookie nodded, squirming as Ci~L’s sharp fingernails dug into her skin. She was happy Ci~L was giving her advice, but also a little scared. Suddenly, Ci~L released her, pushing her forward. When Tookie turned, she saw that shackles had appeared on Ci~L’s wrists and ankles. Ci~L staggered backward and fell into the ZipZap.

  Tookie gasped. Should she go after Ci~L? But then she heard a cheer behind her and turned toward the O. It was actually an O-shaped plaza behind the M building. An immense waterfall cascaded to the ground from an invisible source in the sky. Past and present Intoxibellas played in the waterfall and then sprang to life in 3-D water forms. Ci~L’s image was not displayed.

  Ninety-nine Bellas, all still in their T-DOD garb, clogged the space. In front of them was a group of a few hundred girls dressed in the same uniform as ZhenZhen and other tour guides, the two-toned leotard-and-pants outfit, but there were subgroups, each wearing a different color, seemingly split according to their ages. Brilliant yellow Senturas encircled their waists. But what struck Tookie most was that the groups got smaller and smaller the closer they got to the front of the stage.

  Tookie’s eyes strayed to the left, to an assembly of about three hundred other girls. Some were not girls at all but older women. They were totally nude, and their flesh seemed to be made of hard plastic, with creases at every joint—the shoulders, elbows, and wrists, the neck, hips, knees, and ankles—which made them look like living, breathing mannequins. Their eyeballs were completely black, making them look soulless. They stood stiffly, staring blankly at the crowd. Just looking at them made Tookie shiver.

  As Tookie approached the last line of the group of new girls, she noticed Piper, Dylan, and Shiraz. They all turned and saw her at the same time. “There you are, girl!” Dylan cried.

  “Nice of you to make it,” Piper said sarcastically, smiling a little.

  “Tookie arrive!” Shiraz bleated. “We worry for you!”

  A rush of warmth settled over Tookie. They cared about her well-being. Maybe they were even her new … friends. She let this moment sink in for a second. For the first time in her life, she actually used the word friend in the plural. She made a mental note to herself to start spelling friends with four S’s, friendssss, in her T-Mail Jail. One s for each of the four friends she now had: Dylan, Shiraz, Piper … and, of course, Lizzie.

  If Lizzie still considered Tookie her friend.

  The music roared to a crescendo. All girls turned to
the front. Something momentous was about to begin. The music changed abruptly to a funky military march. An authoritative female announcer then boomed, “WELCOME OUR PROTECTORS, OUR MASONS, AND THE BEST ACCESSORIES SINCE THE TONGUE STUD, OUR BRETHREN FROM … BESTOSTERONE!”

  The Sentura-clad groups of girls applauded in a rhythmic clap, thigh-slap, and whistle serenade that offered a perfect complement to the beat of the music. A group of young men marched in, doing a highly powerful staccato dance. Each was more handsome than the next. They wore black billowing trousers stuffed into calf-high boots, leather suspenders crisscrossing their bare chests. Some had laserlike focus; others were pouting and surveying the crowd of gawking girls, aware of their handsome looks; and still others seemed distracted, their thoughts far away. But all in all, they were a sight to relish: cleft chins, strong brows, flexing muscles, eyes that looked not at you but through you.

  “I’m claiming him first!” Chaste cried.

  “Which one?” Zarpessa asked.

  “All of them!”

  Dylan snorted. “She looks like the type of girl who’d do all of ’em, doesn’t she?”

  “Remember what I said, girls.” ZhenZhen scuttled back from her class at the front. “Don’t touch the accessories—unless you’re doing ManAttack or a photo shoot with them.”

  Suddenly, the melody dropped to an ominous octave.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome … the Bored!” a female announcer said. A series of fireworks in the sky spelled B-O-R-E-D.

  “They’re spelling that wrong,” Tookie told ZhenZhen.

  ZhenZhen shook her head. “Nope. They spell it that way because that’s how they always look, like people sitting in the front row of a fashion show. They’re the highest level of instructors here. The powerful ones. It’s mandatory to call them Gurus. They report to the BellaDonna.”