Modelland

by Tyra Banks

  The creature contorted, then reared back and exposed its toenail-sucker mouth. A forked tendril extended from the center. Two sharp, toenail-clipper blades on the end of the fork made scissoring actions, slicing both Harriet and Lynne at their hips.

  “Oh my God!” Abigail screamed. “Do something, Creamy!”

  “I’m your leader, not a magician, dear,” Creamy said dryly.

  The Leg Leech burped out a pile of Harriet’s hair and threw the two women’s legs onto its body. They instantly attached, still kicking wildly. Then the creature balanced itself on a group of ten legs. It began to waltz to a place in front of the surviving Pilgrims.

  “I know how to save us, Creamy!” Myrracle yelled. “Dancing!”

  Creamy looked at her, relieved. “Do your thing, Myrracle, baby. Dance in your spirit and in your body.”

  Myrracle gazed up at her mother, touched that for the first time Creamy supported her dancing. She proudly ran in front of the Leg Leech and began a rousing back-and-forth dance routine with Bellissima in her arms.

  Slowly and joyfully, the Leg Leech retreated, backing away like a thousand ballerinas in unison. If anyone had been standing just a bit closer, they would have noticed that swaying along with Myrracle and Bellissima was one of the ancient tombstones. The one marked MUSE PRANCIA, to be exact.

  Just then, a ring of fire encircled the cemetery, Myrracle, and Bellissima.

  “Oh my Lord!” Creamy began to run in hysterical circles. “My babies! Somebody get my babies!”

  The circle of flames burst high into the air and amassed into a huge fireball, freeing Myrracle and Bellissima. The fireball then flew straight toward Kamata and Abigail. Kamata grabbed Abigail’s hand in panic and started to run.

  Creamy shouted, “Run that way, Kamata!” Kamata looked disoriented and ran straight into the flames, just as Creamy had instructed. In seconds, nothing of Kamata and Abigail was left. Not even ash.

  “Ah, the beauty balance is restored,” Creamy said under her breath.

  Myrracle stood in shock. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

  Creamy walked over and slapped Myrracle hard across both cheeks. “We did not come all this way for you to lose your damn mind! Look at Bellissima! She is handling this so much better than you! Pull it together and let’s go!”

  “Okay, Creamy,” Myrracle whimpered. But as her mother turned her back, Myrracle took her shank and sliced Bellissima’s plastic flesh down her hard back.

  As Creamy, Myrracle, Bellissima, and Hunchy, the last four surviving Pilgrims, traipsed through the field, Myrracle began to stare at something in the distance. “Ooh … look at the pretty lights!”

  A terrified scowl appeared on Creamy’s face. “Those aren’t lights, idiot! Those are more fireballs!”

  Four fireballs raged toward the group—one for each of them, even Bellissima. Myrracle and Creamy ran one way and Hunchy ran the other. The fireballs landed, throwing massive sparks everywhere. And then … silence.

  After a few minutes, Hunchy opened his eyes. He wiggled his toes. Moved his fingers. He was still alive.

  He called out, waiting for Creamy’s answer. But none came.

  Hunchy jumped up from the mud and shook himself off. All that running and dodging had worked up his appetite. He followed the sweet scent not of blood orange, but of the pancreas and thymus glands that lived within one particular platinum-headed Unica, and he resumed his trek to Modelland.

  Alone.

  37

  MAN ATTACK AND HEARTACHE

  Late that night, Tookie and the other Unicas huddled in a circle just outside the D.

  “So … you’re sure that’s where the emergency ZipZap is?” Dylan looked uncertain.

  There was something about Dylan’s voice that bothered Tookie. “For the tenth time, Dylan, yes. Bravo took me there to see it. I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself. I saw the ZipZap with my own eyes. And it’s not far from the OrbArena, where ManAttack is happening tomorrow.”

  “And you’re competing?” Piper asked.

  “Correct, Piper,” Tookie replied.

  “Then you leave with pretty boy after AttackMan without Unicas?” Shiraz sighed.

  “No. I can’t do that,” Tookie said sharply, feeling a rush of nausea as soon as she spoke. As much as she’d tried to tamp the feelings down, it was undeniable: she was in love. A love so deep, she never thought it could happen to her. But in order to survive, she would have to leave Bravo and Modelland forever.

  She sighed and looked at the Unicas. She didn’t want to be in this life-love-or-death situation. And yet she was. “We’re going to take that ZipZap,” Tookie told the Unicas. “But we need to create a distraction tomorrow so we can get to it without getting caught. You guys have seen the OrbArena, right?”

  “Yes, in first-day tour,” Shiraz said. “It that crazy egg building with open steel and expose wire.”

  “Right,” Tookie said. “Maybe Piper can scout it out while ManAttack is going on. The exposed wires will make it easier for you to follow the trail to the main lighting switchboard. You need to find the on/off switch and create a blackout.”

  Piper squinted. “A blackout?”

  This response rankled Tookie too. “Duh,” she snapped. Piper sounded like a parrot. “I thought you were the intelligent one.”

  Piper recoiled. She exchanged a look with Shiraz and Dylan. Then she fiddled with the puzzle game in her hands and said, “What if I don’t find the switchboard?”

  “You will,” Dylan assured her.

  “You is being princess of SansColor!” Shiraz whooped.

  Piper narrowed her eyes at her; she seemed annoyed too. “There’s no such thing.”

  “This is Modelland, Piper,” Dylan said. “Anything’s possible here.”

  Even a Forgetta-Girl being adored by the most wondrous, lovely Rememba-Boy in the world, Tookie thought.

  “Tookie?” Piper said. “Did you hear what I said?”

  Tookie turned to Piper and blinked. “Huh?”

  Piper’s top lip curled over her teeth. “Duh,” she mimicked. “I was saying that Dylan needs to be ready for a fainting spell in case we need a diversion. Isn’t that right?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Tookie straightened up. “And that’s when you’ll find the switch, Piper. And Shiraz, you’ll be our natural night-vision so we can find our way out.”

  Then Shiraz peered at Tookie. “I no like this. This plan all goosey-loosey.”

  “Look, I’m doing my best here.” Tookie gritted her teeth. “You all elected me leader, so I’m leading! If you wanted someone else to lead, you shouldn’t have picked me!”

  “It looks like someone’s abusin’ their power, Gunnero—I mean BellaDonna. Oops, I mean Tookie,” Dylan muttered, rolling her eyes at Tookie so hard that only the whites showed.

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Zarpessa—I mean Chaste. Oops, I mean Dylan,” Tookie retorted.

  “I no like Unicas fighting!” Shiraz took Dylan’s and Tookie’s hands and made them touch.

  “Shiraz, we don’t have time for this,” Tookie said yanking her hand away from Dylan’s. “Do you wanna die or do you wanna live?”

  “Live, I want!”

  “Then we have to be sharp!”

  Shiraz wrapped an arm around Tookie’s shoulder. “You tense, no? Because of Bravo?”

  Tookie snuck a peek at Shiraz, surprised that she had guessed her secret so easily. Instead of saying anything, Tookie let out a stifled sob.

  Dylan’s face softened. She wrapped an arm around Tookie too. “Maybe he can come with us.”

  This just made another rush of emotion swell in Tookie’s heart. She hated that she was leaving Bravo behind. She hated that she’d finally found something amazing, Bravo and Modelland, and had to give it up. But Tookie slowly shook her head and held back the tears she knew would render her a weak leader. “No, this is it, girls. Bravo’s in heaven here, surrounded by Modelland architecture,” she said. “He’s
living his dream. What we need to be focusing on for ourselves is not living a dream, but just living. Pure survival. We have to get out of this place before we are killed. It’s as simple as that.”

  The next morning, Tookie stood at the bathroom mirror, holding her toothbrush in her hand. Something seemed … different that morning. No longer did the sight of her toothbrush make her feel a pang of rejection. In fact, when she looked in the mirror, she thought she saw a miracle. A real miracle. One that had nothing to do with The Myrracle from back home.

  Her body no longer resembled a Peppertown twig. There were slight curves at the base of her hips, the same hips that had tickled when Bravo had smoothed down her eyebrows with his dampened thumb. Am I hallucinating? she wondered. Creamy said that the only thing that would develop on me would be a larger forehead as my hairline receded from age. Is this mirror warped?

  Tookie ran her small hands up and down the mirror. The surface was as smooth as the first day she had arrived at Modelland. Yes, I am definitely hallucinating.

  Crazier still, Tookie could swear that she was—well, she hated to even think the word about herself. The word Dr. Erica had used to describe her. Prett—.

  Guru Gunnero’s voice blared through the air: “All you pure-and-prude Bellas, it’s time to lose it! Your ManAttack virginity, I mean! Report to the OrbArena at once! And don’t forget to bring protection! Elbow and knee pads, that is!” He snickered lewdly.

  Every girl in the D seemed surprised except Dylan, Shiraz, Piper, and Tookie.

  “Try to kick some Bestosterone prissy-boy ass,” Dylan whispered behind Tookie.

  “Yes, Tookie,” Piper added with a smirk. “We’d appreciate departing this fantastic land with a victory under the Unicas’ Sentura belts.”

  “I’ll try,” Tookie whispered.

  Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. When she turned, she saw Ci~L standing in the middle of the bathroom, glaring at her. All the red, blue, and purple water spouting out of the holes in the mirrors came to an abrupt stop, as if even the liquid were terrified of Ci~L’s presence.

  “Uh …,” Tookie said, taking two steps backward and hitting the sink behind her. Ci~L stalked up to Tookie and grabbed her wrist. “I’m here to collect you. You’re one of the contestants for ManAttack today.”

  Ci~L yanked Tookie out of the bathroom and walked her down Beautification Boulevard. Banners for the 7Seven Tournament, which would take place the next day, fluttered in the wind. With each step, Tookie considered the could-have-beens and if-onlys that would have meant a different experience at this magical place. I could have been free of all this dread and doom if only I’d been born looking like … like Myrracle.

  “Don’t worry,” Ci~L said in a cackling voice. “The torture won’t last that long. It’ll all be over in a flash.”

  Tookie’s mouth fell open. Was the sacrifice going to happen now?

  Ci~L turned to Tookie as they walked. “After ManAttack is over, you and your little friends better come straight to me.”

  Tookie froze. There was no way in hell she was meeting Ci~L.

  Ci~L leaned closer. “And if you don’t find me, I’ll find you.”

  Luckily, they had reached the OrbArena. A Mannecant stepped out from a doorway. “In here,” she said, pushing Tookie up a staircase and into a smaller room through a door marked BELLA PREP ZONE. The OrbArena loomed around her, a lattice of metal. Powerful spotlights ran along the outer frame, bouncing beams of artificial light off the structure and illuminating a long wooden plank that traversed the orb. Hundreds of seats were attached to the metal struts on the frame. The seats were empty now. Tookie wondered when the Unicas would arrive. As soon as they did, Piper would scout out the place for the switchboard. She’d report back to Shiraz, who would tell Dylan, and then Dylan would faint. When Piper turned the lights out, Tookie would know to meet them at the southwest corner of the OrbArena, and Shiraz’s night vision would guide them to the 7Seven stadium, where the ZipZap was.

  “Strip,” the Mannecant said.

  Tookie stared at her. “Excuse me?”

  “Didn’t you know?” The Mannecant’s thin lips curved into a smirk. “The ManAttack is performed in one’s underwear.” She pointed at the table; there was a stiff bra-and-panties set marked Tookie that was made with complicated strips of fabric.

  “How do I put this on?” Tookie asked helplessly.

  “Figure it out,” the Mannecant said in a cold voice. “The other contestants will be here shortly.”

  “Who else is competing?” Tookie asked, but the Mannecant had already marched away. Seconds later, two figures stepped through the door. Tookie’s heart dropped.

  Chaste and Zarpessa.

  Zarpessa looked fresh and polished, nothing like the ragged, wild girl who’d been caught in her very own personal Loony Lumière nightmare many nights before. This was the first time Tookie had seen her since the episode. She wondered if Zarpessa had spent the whole time in the FEDS.

  Zarpessa glanced over at Tookie, but her face didn’t register irritation or malice. Neither a nasty look nor a wicked comment came. Wow, she’s been reformed, Tookie thought.

  “Are you … okay?” Tookie asked, walking over to her. She would never have had the courage to do that in Metopia—nor would she have wanted to. But a lot had changed since she’d been at Modelland. “About the other night, I mean. We all do strange things at night sometimes. I sleepwalk, in fact. So I can understand what you’re going through.”

  In a flash, Zarpessa’s face turned from meek to malicious. She moved so close to Tookie that their noses almost touched. “You understand? You understand nothing! You have no idea what it’s like to be me. You can’t, because you and your useless friends have never been on top. And stop being all sweet, pretending like you aren’t thrilled about what happened to me that night. When Dr. Erica took me away, did you tell anyone about my family?”

  Tookie blinked hard. “I didn’t say a word! I swear!”

  “Yeah, right.” Zarpessa’s eyes narrowed. “If you ever try to say you understand me again, I will cut your tongue out. Because your freak-a-zoid, Unfortunate-Looking, water-headed-baby self can’t, and you never will!”

  And then Zarpessa spun away, shoulders squared, her hands repeatedly opening and closing into fists. Chaste followed, shooting Tookie a nasty look. You weren’t so crazy about Zarpessa the other night, Tookie wished she could remind Chaste, remembering how the girl had taken a big step away from Zarpessa in the throes of her breakdown.

  Zarpessa and Chaste stepped through the door to the OrbArena and out onto the wooden plank, testing how it felt. Chaste started bouncing up and down on the plank, higher than possible in regular gravity. A giant scoreboard loomed in the sphere. Tookie spotted her name immediately—she would compete last. And then, to her horror, she spotted her competitor.

  “No,” Tookie whispered. Anyone but Bravo.

  Within minutes, the seats filled with excited Bellas and enthusiastic Bestosteros, as well as a sprinkling of Gurus. Tookie spotted Guru Pacifico, his eyebrows looking as if they were having a conversation with the ebony-skinned Bestostero on his right, while his mouth seemed to converse with the hazel-eyed Bella behind him. Guru Applaussez’s hand-head waved in the air like a beauty queen on a parade float.

  The girls disappeared back into the Prep Zone and put on their undergarments. Chaste and Zarpessa fit into theirs nicely, but Tookie just looked ashy and sticklike. Shoot, I’m going to have to escape in this lingerie! Tookie thought. She hated the idea of leaving through the ZipZap in just her skivvies.

  After they’d changed, Zarpessa, Chaste, and Tookie stepped out of the Prep Zone and were assaulted by the roar of rowdy crowd noise. Bellas had taken off their Senturas and were using them as flags. And everyone, of course, was staring at the six scantily clad girls and boys, for the Bestosteros had donned couture briefs made of strips of material like those of the girls’ costumes. The briefs exposed slits of their buttocks, and left bare
all of their rippling muscles. Tookie peeked at Bravo. He looked so amazing and gorgeous she felt the urge to throw up.

  “Welcome, pretty ladies and even prettier gentlemen, bienvenue to ManAttack!” Gunnero Narzz’s voice boomed from the sky. The crowd yelled and stomped their feet. Gunnero lowered into the OrbArena standing on top of a hovering podium shaped like the male and female gender symbols. “It’s been a while since the two sexes got to have a mix-up like tonight. I’m sure everyone’s hormones are raging more than mine!”

  Just then, Tookie spotted a flash of white hair between the steel beams. Piper! She was looking for the switch! She glanced at Bravo again, standing across the plank with Alexander and Webb. Her eyes filled with tears.

  Narzz continued. “As it has been played for eons, there are four phases to ManAttack. First, the Touch. Oh yes—contact, people … between man and woman. Second, Wardrobe. But if you want, you can stay half nude. Fun for the crowd, oh yes indeed, but point deductions for the players. Third, Maquillage. Makeup, that is. Foundation for the girls, Mandation for the boys. Can someone get me some? My color is Ivory Sands Number Three. Oh, and watch out for those pesky explosives, lads and lasses! And fourth and finally, the Snaps. The Photo Finish. Yes, we take pictures here ’cause they last longer!”

  “Bravo, I want to have your babies! We can start trying right there on that plank, right now!” a Bella behind Applaussez shouted from the crowd.

  A couple of Bestosteros whistled lasciviously. Tookie noticed Bravo trying to catch her eye down the plank, but she pointedly looked away. She’d thought she could avoid him today, escape without having to have a conversation. It would be easier that way, after all. Cleaner. Fewer tears. Less desire to stay. But now she had to battle him. Maybe Piper will find the switch before I have to go through with it, she thought. Maybe we’ll get out of here before I have to face him.