Modelland

by Tyra Banks

  “I prefer Mizz De La Crème,” Creamy said. “Sounds so much fresher.”

  Kamata nodded. “From what I remember, there’s a watering hole not far from here. Fresh water. Good for drinking and bathing. I know we could all use some sips and some suds?”

  Everyone in the group cheered their approval. Kamata led the group down an embankment, past claw marks around a burned-out campfire, soiled Pilgrim socks and underwear, and a human jawbone. Finally, they arrived at a pristine lake.

  The group let out a collective, relieved ooh.

  “Like my beautiful black-bottomed pool at the home where I used to live with my husband before she …” Lynne’s voice cracked, and she fought back tears. She then removed her clothes and stayed in the shallow part of the pond near its edges, her injured hand held high. Hunchy paced, excitedly or perhaps nervously, around the edge, as if he had never seen water.

  Myrracle started to strip down too, but Creamy held her back. “Let them go first, Myrracle, dear. They’ve suffered more than we have.”

  She nudged Kamata, shooting him a reminding look. Kamata cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Uh, the legend of this pond is that the center is reserved for only the purest beauty,” he said, though he didn’t seem quite sure of his words. Still, Mrs. De La Crème gave him a satisfied nod.

  “Well, we all know who that is!” Jessamine crowed. She swam fast toward the center of the pond, her quick fluttering feet kicking Abigail and Harriet in the face. “The man said ‘purest,’ not ugliest or hairiest!” she yelled, stopping to tread water. “Nothing pure about a friggling gorilla-monkey suit!” she yelled as she resumed swimming to the middle of the pond.

  “Can I go in now, Creamy?” Myrracle pleaded.

  “Not yet.” Creamy stared at Jessamine as she frolicked at the center of the pond. “Lights out, shining star,” she murmured ominously.

  As if on cue, the pond began to bubble. Jessamine whooped. “It’s a hot tub too!”

  A wave of bubbles swept across the pond. Things began to rise to the surface. Skulls. Thousands of them. They bobbed on the water, forming a perfect circle around Jessamine.

  Abigail and Harriet scampered to shore. Hunchy climbed a dead tree. But Jessamine was trapped in the middle of the pond by the skulls. Meena grabbed a tree branch and extended it toward her daughter. “Come with me, Jessamine. Come!”

  Then something rose from the water, taking Jessamine’s mother’s breath away. A muck-covered creature, as tall as a giraffe. Its body was made of dozens and dozens of human arms, and its head was a mash of ancient musical instruments contorted into an evil, hungry-looking array of sharpened, sideways-turned cymbals for teeth, hollow eyes made of tuba bells, and a steaming nose made of organ pipes.

  “Pond monster!” Jessamine screamed. She tried to paddle away, but the monster scooped her up and took a large bite out of her torso, carefully avoiding her arms.

  “No!” Jessamine’s mother wailed. She tried to fight the monster off from the shore with the stick, but it was like fighting a dragon with a toothpick—useless.

  The monster tossed Jessamine’s head and thrashing legs into its cymbal-toothed mouth. Then it set its sights on her mother. Hunchy howled wildly at the sky.

  Meena spun around and ran, but the pull of the water was too great. The pond monster caught her after only two steps. With its empty hand, it grabbed her. It ate everything but her arms, just as it had done with her daughter.

  The monster carefully placed mother’s and daughter’s arms on its head and they suddenly came to life, skillfully playing a haunting melody on the monster’s various instruments. Everyone screamed. And when that was done, the pond monster stomped its foot, sent a tidal wave to the shore, and eyed the group, spotting its next prey.

  Myrracle.

  In seconds, the creature was out of the water and zipping toward Myrracle, who cowered behind Creamy. If Creamy was frightened of the music beast, she did not let on. She stared viciously at the creature, then spat out a five-word warning. “Touch. Myrracle. And. You. Die.”

  The monster blinked. After a moment, it took three large steps backward. It then walked dejectedly into the pond and disappeared into the drink. Everyone stared at Creamy, astonished. Who was this woman?

  “Well now,” Creamy said, as if she had just taken a refreshing shower. “The clock is ticking and we have someplace to be. Shall we continue?”

  34

  THE MADWOMAN OF THE MODELLAND

  Tookie’s head fell hard onto her pillow before her bed had fully materialized. Her body was racked with exhaustion, but the heavy burden of impending death robbed her of the ability to fall asleep.

  Four days had passed since Desperada had scaled the wall and the Unicas’ plans had been foiled. That day, after Guru Lauro’s class, in careful whispers, the girls had seriously considered scaling the wall and succumbing to aging; old-looking is better than dead, they reasoned. But then Piper had questioned whether fifty years of physical aging also shortened their life spans. Which wasn’t any better an option than staying where they were.

  Tookie stared into the darkness, wide awake. With her finger, she traced a single word onto the sheets:

  How?

  It was the question she had written on a scrap of paper to Dylan, then Shiraz, then Piper, in Run-a-Way class. While dodging Guru Gunnero’s gaze, Piper had tirelessly drawn fifteen different diagrams of the Modelland grounds, but they all led to dead ends.

  How will they choose to torture us? Burning? Drowning? Boiling? Stoning? Strangling? Sawing? Scalping?

  How can I get my friends out of here?

  The moonlight on the ceiling intensified and the stars in the Modelland sky had come out to play. As they had every night since the girls had been there, Kamalini’s and Zarpessa’s Lumières shone magically on their faces. The luminescence displayed their exquisite features and dewy skin.

  A scream echoed through the room, making all of Tookie’s nerves snap. Was it Ci~L attacking Shiraz? Tookie bolted upright.

  Across the room, Zarpessa sat up in bed. “Get off me!”

  Shiraz sat up too, staring curiously at Zarpessa. “What her problem?”

  “Is she having a nightmare?” asked Tookie.

  “Get it off of me! They’ll find me! I CAN’T have them FIND me!” Zarpessa ranted. Her eyes were wide open and they darted around the room. Her head and body twisted in opposite directions from each other. Her feet were taking her to parts of the room where her eyes weren’t looking. Her arms flapped. The Lumière darted right in step with her like a police helicopter’s searchlight looking for a perpetrator.

  “Stay away from me, lady! You disgust me!” Zarpessa shouted, waving her arms at the searchlight. “I’m not hiding you anymore, so don’t follow me, or they’ll find you!”

  Tookie blinked hard. What was Zarpessa dreaming about?

  Zarpessa jumped in the air and swatted at her Lumière. “Stop it, you hear me?”

  Then she turned and her crazed eyes locked on Tookie’s mismatched ones. She stomped up to Tookie and yanked hard on her nightgown. “I saw this dress first, damn it! And I WILL wear it on The Day of Discovery!”

  The dress. The yellow dress she fought over with Lizzie. Was Zarpessa dreaming about that?

  Zarpessa tramped up next to Shiraz. “If you had let Poppi handle everything, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

  Poppi handle everything? Tookie’s skin prickled. Was Poppi Zarpessa’s father?

  Zarpessa’s body began contorting again and bouncing around the room. Tookie felt a sudden temptation to rush over to Zarpessa, wrap her in her arms, and soothe her, like she had done with Desperada. The feeling quickly abated.

  Nope, I just can’t.

  Zarpessa ran out of the room and down the hallway. Her Lumière stalked her hungrily around the corner, as if it were an anaconda in the rain forest that hadn’t eaten in two months.

  Tookie and Shiraz ran into the hall, leaving Kamalini sleeping peacefully, comforted by
her Headbangor. Other girls were now awake and in the hallway, including Dylan and Piper.

  “Now I presenting Zarpessa Zarionneaux as … the Madwoman of the Modelland!” Shiraz blurted out, running down the hall after her, erupting into giggles.

  “Well, I guess we found out what the double L’s in Modelland stand for,” Dylan joked to Bibiana. “L-L for … Loony Lumière!”

  Zarpessa had moved to the kitchenette, zeroing in on the bank of refrigerator drawers that housed various Modelland Munchies. “The Lumière can’t follow me in here. And neither can that stupid lady. C’mon, Poppi! Protect us from her. Get out of the light! It can’t find us in here!”

  But Zarpessa’s snakelike Lumière illuminated her face even in the UnCommon room. The light, which still seemed to be coming from her bed, was bending perfectly around every corner and coming down hard on Zarpessa.

  Zarpessa squeezed into the refrigerator, ripping open a package of Munchies. “I’m so hungry, Poppi! It’s six p.m.! Time for Dumpster-dive dinner! I’m starving!”

  “Starving?” Chaste, who had emerged out of her room, asked. “What’s she talking about? That girl eats. She doesn’t have the Likee sisters’ problem.”

  The Likees, who were standing beside her, stiffened. “We. Have. No. Problem!”

  “And that girl wouldn’t Dumpster-dive if her life depended on it,” Chaste went on. “Her family’s, like, billionaires or something! They could probably buy and sell all of Modelland!”

  “You’re her friend. Help her!” Dylan shrieked. Zarpessa’s eyes were now rolling into the back of her head.

  “Oh hell no,” Chaste replied, stepping back five full paces. “I don’t do crazy.”

  The door flung open and Dr. Erica speed-skated into the room. “What’s going on here?” she demanded.

  Shiraz raised her hand. “Girl wake up, scream like nutcase about Lumière and T-DOD dress, go more wacko, came here, binge on Munchie.”

  Slam. Behind them, Zarpessa shut herself inside the refrigerator. Muffled shrieks could be heard from inside. Dr. Erica tapped lightly on the fridge door. “What’s her name again?” she asked the group.

  “Who? The cuh-ray-zee monster? Zar-Opressa,” Dylan huffed.

  Tookie started to snicker, then clapped her mouth shut. Despite how evil Zarpessa was toward her, she felt sort of bad for what was happening. This was a full-fledged breakdown.

  “I’ve seen this many times at Modelland before, missy,” Dr. Erica said. “Too much Bella pressure … experiencing terrifying things like THBC, witnessing a girl aging fifty years before your eyes, can cause a drop in serum glucose—”

  “Aughhhhh!” Zarpessa wailed. “The refrigerator light! My Lumière followed me in here!”

  Dr. Erica peered at the girls. “Does anyone know what she means? Perhaps one of you knows her from home. Did something terrible happen to her?”

  Piper turned to Tookie. “You know her from home, don’t you?”

  Everyone looked at Tookie, including Dr. Erica. “Tookie!” the doctor said gratefully. “Is there anything you know about this girl?”

  Tookie felt a lump the size of a grapefruit in her throat. If there was any time to expose Zarpessa’s secret, this was it. But she could just feel the anticipation in the room. The delicious, perverse glee of the other girls, who were just waiting for a scandal. There might be others besides Tookie and her friends who wanted Zarpessa to fail. Jealous girls. Envious girls. Girls who were not performing half as well as Zarpessa in class. Telling all Tookie knew, right now, would ruin Zarpessa.

  Ci~L’s words rang out in Tookie’s head: The girl who is sucking your blood is hurting way more than you. Tookie knew Ci~L was right. She should have compassion and understanding even for an enemy. Being the bigger person was what leaders did. Yes, Ci~L was crazy. Yes, she wanted to torture and kill Tookie and her friends. But in the end, exposing Zarpessa’s lies wasn’t something a leader would do.

  All eyes were still on Tookie, waiting for her answer. Even Zarpessa had gone silent in the fridge, as if she suddenly had her wits about her and sensed what was coming next. Tookie lowered her eyes and shrugged. “I know nothing about her,” she said in a low voice. “Nothing at all.”

  35

  DECO

  The morning sun blazed brightly, but to Tookie, it felt as if the sky were covered with angry storm clouds. “She wasn’t in her bed this morning,” Tookie said to her friends as they gathered in the UnCommon room.

  “She’s probably still in the FEDS,” Dylan whispered. “Givin’ a Zar-Opressa Madwoman of Modelland performance. I bet they put her mean butt in some wild-animal restraints. What I wouldn’t give for a CaraCaraCara picture of that!”

  Piper, who was watching them from the windowsill, the filtered light backlighting her face, sighed. “She did appear to be a danger to herself and others.”

  After Tookie had denied knowing anything about Zarpessa’s past, the rest of the evening had gone by in a blur. Dr. Erica had finally managed to wrench the refrigerator open and drag Zarpessa out. The girl had been kicking and screaming about peanut butter, her eyes wild, still tangled in a dream. It had taken several security guards to carry her out the door.

  The girls turned to the sound of rapping on the front window. Bravo was standing in the bushes.

  “Hello, my favorite Bella!” he called to Tookie, his voice muffled through the glass.

  Dylan grabbed Tookie’s wrist and squeezed. Shiraz swooned. Even Piper looked flustered and flushed. Bravo was looking more dapper than ever, dressed in spit-polished boots, a uniform similar to Bestosterone everyday-wear but made of finer material, and a capelike coat with padded shoulders and six pockets running up the front.

  Tookie opened the window so he could climb in. Dylan caught her arm. “Girl, you know we’re not allowed to have boys in the D,” she whispered in Tookie’s ear. “Especially not fine, sexy tenders like Bravo!”

  Tookie shrugged and whispered. “He’ll only be here for a minute. And we’re leaving this place soon, anyway. What does it matter if I get in trouble?”

  “Pardon me, ladies,” Bravo said, dusting off his pants, “but would you mind if I stole your friend Tookie for a few minutes?”

  Dylan stepped back, now smiling. “Well, I suppose not. But take good care of her, ya hear?”

  And then all three of Tookie’s friends disappeared from the bedroom, giggling. Shiraz hooted.

  “Hi,” Tookie said, her insides turning boiling hot.

  “Hi,” Bravo replied.

  “You’re following me, aren’t you?” Tookie said, realizing there was a touch of flirtation to her voice. She didn’t even know she knew how to flirt. “I saw you outside the CaraCaraCara boat again. Three times in one week, huh? But you do help me to not be so seasick.”

  “Really? Well, uhhhh … yeah, if you want me to be completely honest, I am following you. And I’m glad you’re not seasick anymore.” Bravo’s lopsided grin snaked its way up the side of his face and right into Tookie’s heart. “Oh, I hurt my hand during a photo shoot on the roof, and I came here today cuz I needed to have my thumb sucked.”

  “That wasn’t nice,” Tookie said, blushing.

  “Oh no … it was.” Bravo was the one to swoon this time. “It really was.”

  They were silent for a moment. Then Tookie swallowed. “So why are you stalking me? I mean, we’ve had a few nice conversations, but what do you really know about me?”

  “Well, let me see.” Bravo paused as if he was trying to recall a list. “You hate chocolate with a vengeance. You’re always hungry. You appreciate things that aren’t conventional.”

  “Correct. And how do you know that?”

  “The friends you keep. That unusual flower you wear. It holds tasty things. But it’s hiding something too, isn’t it? I saw a piece of it when you were getting patched up at the FEDS. So what’s under there?” he asked, trying to move the brooch aside.

  Tookie swatted his hand away, afraid for him to see the T O
OKE pin. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Well, it’s right over my heart,” Bravo said, completely earnestly.

  Tookie’s jaw dropped. “YOUR heart? Since when has my body become yours?” Then she laughed. “And come on! That is such a line.” But in truth, she loved that he’d just said that. It made her heart beat at warp speed.

  Bravo smiled sincerely. “You’re a good girl, Tookie, and I respect you. I guess it’s just wishful thinking, the wanting-your-heart thing.…”

  Tookie blinked at him. All of a sudden, she felt the urge to laugh—or maybe cry. She remembered what she looked like, and all the insults that had been hurled at her by her family, Zarpessa, Gunnero. And here was this faultless specimen of malehood, a guy prettier than Myrracle, wanting to spend time with her. She just couldn’t understand it.

  “Are you kidding me?” she blurted out. “You want me. Seriously.”

  Bravo didn’t break his gaze. “These other girls here, they chase after me like I can solve all their problems. It’s always been that way for me, not just here, and it sucks. I open my mouth to say hi and women damn near pass out or wanna marry me, and I’m not even old enough to get into a club in LaDorno.”

  “Oh, the trials and tribulations of the exquisite male. I’m so sorry for your pain.”

  “I know, I sound ridiculous. Like a conceited egomaniac.”

  “You said it. I didn’t.”

  “But I’m serious, Tookie,” Bravo went on. “You’re … different. You could care less about my outer shell, this thing I had absolutely nothing to do with creating.” Then he shifted his weight. “I wanna tell you a story.”

  “A story?”

  “Yeah, about somebody I know. Will you listen?”

  “Of course. Who doesn’t love a good story?”

  “Man oh man, where do I start?” He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, exhaled deeply, and then said, “Okay, here goes. More than anything, a little boy named Deco wanted to be an architect. When he was six years old, other kids were drawing two-dimensional houses and stick figures, but Deco was building three-dimensional cities with discarded pieces of junk. But no one paid much attention to Deco’s beautiful work because there was something that was more striking than his creations: his face.