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by D. M. Paige

  His eyes lit up a little. “Yeah, maybe … I have written a few things in class … drama stuff …”

  He looked off toward the horizon.

  “You’ve written a few things, like what?” I said.

  “Just some stuff. I’ll show you sometime—”

  “I’d love that.”

  “—If and only if you do something for me.”

  I was suddenly aware of how close we were. Of Matt’s hand on my arm.

  “Anything.”

  “Tell me what happened today,” he said. I released his arm.

  I sighed. I had put the future on the table. He had every right to ask about the present.

  “I think she knows. Your mom.”

  “Knows what?”

  “About us.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Maybe I shouldn’t have said “us.”

  “I mean, I think she knows about you and me spending time together.”

  “She doesn’t know. I’d know if she knows. Mom’s not exactly subtle.”

  “She practically spelled it out before she sent me to the retail store for the day.”

  Matt’s face broke with what looked like relief.

  “Is that all? Mom makes everyone work in the store for a day. She made me work in the store once. Best and worst day of my life. All those girls—but all those clothes …”

  He laughed. I didn’t.

  “Thea, Mom doesn’t keep secrets. If she’d mad at you, she’s right in your face.”

  I shook my head.

  “Then what do you want to do about it?” Matt said. “Never see each other again?”

  I shook my head again. “Is that what you want?”

  “No.”

  “So what do we do?” I asked.

  “We just have to be a little more discreet. Mom is so busy with the line, there’s no way she’ll ever know for sure.”

  I knew that Lorelei would make time to find out about us. But I didn’t want to give Matt up either.

  TWENTY-TWO

  My next fitting with Madison was completely silent. I still couldn’t believe she had told Lorelei my secret. But what other explanation was there?

  When I was finished, Madison stormed out without saying a word. Jamie entered the fitting area and studied me a beat. “Is Madison mad?”

  “Someone told Lorelei about me spending time with Matt.”

  “And you think it was Mad.”

  I shrugged.

  “No one cares about your puppy love, sweetie. And anyway, no one would’ve had to tell her. These walls are made of glass. Lorelei sees everything around here.”

  Jamie put me on phone duty while she handled something in Lorelei’s office. When her phone rang, I reached over the desk to grab it—and a portfolio spilled onto the floor. I picked it up.

  The drawings were modern and sleek, even a little goth. They had little in common with the tightly wound fashionista in front of me.

  “Don’t touch those,” Jamie’s voice broke in.

  “You did these? These designs are amazing.”

  A look of what must have been pride crossed Jamie’s face before she shifted to her usual pout.

  “What do you think I’m doing here? You think that I get off on getting yelled at?”

  “Have you shown them to Lorelei?”

  “The only thing Lorelei is interested in is the pretty graph I’ve made of her schedule.”

  I looked at Jamie again, as if for the first time. I’d never asked Jamie what she was doing working for Lorelei. She hadn’t exactly given me an opening. But I tried to put myself in her six-inch Louboutins. Jamie had been slaving away as Lorelei’s first assistant for how long? And even though I was just an intern, Lorelei had already given me feedback on my designs.

  “You have no idea how this business works,” Jamie said. “There’s a whole lot of ugly beneath the prettiness. And you have to be willing to do whatever it takes. If it means starving yourself or being a royal witch or waiting behind a desk for years, then you do it. And you don’t ask questions or whine about what’s fair.”

  One design remained on her desk, a sketch of a purply-pink jumpsuit that shouldn’t have worked but was somehow beyond cool. Jamie grabbed it and began to move off.

  Everything Jamie had said sounded way too true. Everyone kept saying, “It’s the business,” as an excuse for all the crappy stuff that went down in fashion. But no one did anything to change it. Maybe there was no way anyone could. Maybe fashion changed you.

  For the first time since I first picked up a needle, I wondered if I really, really wanted to do this.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The day of the show, I walked into the main house still wearing my pajamas and took in the smell of Becca’s pancakes. I took a seat in front of a huge chocolate chip stack. Becca was hanging over the grill, humming a Rihanna song as she flipped another pancake.

  “You ready for today?”

  I nodded.

  I wasn’t really ready. And I wondered if I’d been wrong about everything. Maybe I should have talked to Lorelei about Madison’s problem—maybe not talking was the problem. After the show, I would. I wasn’t giving up. And I wasn’t walking away, not yet. I’d been working on the launch all summer. I had to see it through.

  My job was supposed to be to put a gift bag in every seat. I turned over the card in my hand to see it was marked with the name of Vogue’s editor in chief. A hot celebrity couple would be seated in the front row.

  My stomach did flips.

  As the show started, Lorelei’s works came to life. But Madison was missing from the lineup. She had been assigned three looks. And Maggie was wearing the first one.

  I got a text from Jamie from backstage.

  “She wants you,” Jamie squawked in my earpiece. “Says she’s not feeling well. She’s just going to do the showstopper. She probably needs help with the dress. Diva moment. Go.”

  “She asked for me?”

  “Yes,” Jamie said. “Make up, and get her on the runway.”

  All the other models dressed in an open area backstage with the help of the other assistants, but Madison had her own space. I took a deep breath before I entered. Madison was dressed in street clothes.

  “What’s going on?” I said.

  She had a little Band-Aid on her forehead. Brie was standing beside her, leaning against the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

  “I fainted again,” Madison murmured. “Brie took me to the ER last night.”

  “Oh, Madison.” I felt gut punched. Was this my fault?

  Madison shook her head. “I’m fine. Okay, I’m not fine. But I will be. We can throw me a pity party later. Anyway, I’m not doing the show. You are.”

  “What are you talking about? There’s no way I can fit in that dress.”

  “But you can fit this one.”

  Madison pulled another dress out of her bag: the one I’d been working on. I’d left it in the dressing room when she and I had our big fight. Madison must have scooped it up. “You were saying how there should be real dresses for real girls. You’re the real girl.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “I have a car waiting to take me to Renew. Brie’s coming with.”

  “The rehab center?”

  My first thought was the wrong one: couldn’t Mad wait fifteen minutes before she got help?

  “Couldn’t Brie … ? I could go with you.”

  Brie shook her head, “I couldn’t. I’m doing Marc’s show tomorrow. Exclusive contract.”

  “So did you mean all that stuff you said, or didn’t you?” Madison said. Her tone was harsh, but there was need underneath it. She was taking a big leap, getting help. She needed to know I was serious about trying to make things better for models.

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Brie helped me into the dress. “There. Perfect. Now let’s get some makeup on you.”

  “This is crazy.”

  Before Mad slipped out of the dressing room she said, “Good luck.”r />
  “You too,” I said.

  And then she was gone.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I could hear Jamie shrieking backstage: “Madison, you’re up!”

  This was not the way I imagined my first runway show. Lorelei was going to kill me. I was probably going to never work in Los Angeles—or any town—again. But it was worth it.

  “You’re not Madison,” Jamie said, moving her headset down so she could yell at me.

  “Mad’s getting help. She wanted me to take her place.”

  I wondered if I could run past Jamie. Would she physically try and stop me? She was super tiny, but maybe she had crazy-rage strength.

  But Jamie stepped aside.

  “If Lorelei asks, I had nothing to do with this,” she said. “Now, remember, be fierce. Toe-heel, toe-heel …”

  There was an audible gasp as I made my way down the runway. The path seemed to get longer with every step. I toe-heeled like I’d seen Madison and the other girls do in the showroom. But it felt different with a hundred eyes watching me.

  When I finally reached the end of the runway, where a nest of photographers sat waiting, I pivoted one of my hips forward and paused. I gave my best smile as the flashbulbs went off.

  Beyond the cameras, I caught a glimpse of Lorelei, her eyes narrowed on me. Her mouth was fixed in a smile that wasn’t real.

  “Thea!”

  Someone was calling my name. Matt.

  Matt was pushing through the photogs and trying to reach me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  By the time he was standing next to me, I could see Lorelei’s face flinch.

  “You asked me if I knew what I wanted,” Matt said simply. “You are what I want.”

  He slipped his hand into mine. The rest of the world slowed down while my pulse quickened. And with that, he kissed me.

  I could still hear the cameras going off, but my eyes were closed. Matt was kissing me. My heart was bounding against my chest.

  In my head, I was already composing the text I was going to send to Bonnie. This was really happening.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  When the show was over, Matt was still holding my hand. Lorelei spoke with a few members of the press, then made her way to us.

  She said through clenched teeth, “Matthew. Home. Now.”

  He didn’t move.

  She looked at me. “My office. Fifteen minutes.”

  I looked at Matt. “It’s fine. I’m okay. Go.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I stood in Lorelei’s all-white office, waiting for her to make my termination official.

  “Do you know how many people depend on me? Do you know what happens to them if this line isn’t a success?”

  Lorelei’s whole company rode on every show. Had I put all that in jeopardy? If the House of Lorelei Roy took a hit, wouldn’t it be her employees that really got hurt? If the presence of one average girl on the runway could jeopardize an entire business, there was something totally screwed up about that. Could my extra ten pounds really topple an entire empire?

  “What do you think would have happened to the new line if Madison fainted on the runway?” I said, teetering a little in my heels as I spoke.

  Lorelei didn’t blink. “There will always be a place for Madison at Lorelei Roy. I only wish that she or you had come to me with your concerns about her health.”

  Would she have really helped Madison? Did she really not know? I wasn’t sure. Maybe I should have come to Lorelei. Maybe Madison should have.

  “If you want to make this up to me and to everyone at the company, then you’ll need the remainder of the summer to do it.”

  “Excuse me?” I said. “You’re not firing me?”

  “I’d like you to continue helping with the teen line. You’re undisciplined, but you have talent. Personally, I think that your little stunt was reprehensible—”

  I wasn’t going to apologize. But I hadn’t thought about her new line being at stake. I hadn’t thought about all the people that I’d spent the last month working with.

  “But the bloggers at Teen Dream loved it,” Lorelei continued. “One of them tweeted that it was a stroke of genius. And she’s not completely wrong. There’s something there. And like I said, you owe this company now. If you finish out August with no other incidents like this one, there may be a paid position for you here next summer.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “A smart girl would say yes, but take your time.”

  I walked out of the room feeling more confused than ever.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Mad’s treatment center wasn’t just for kids who were too skinny. It was also for kids with other troubles. I don’t know what I’d expected. Kids walking around in those hospital robes that flashed everyone in the back. But the place wasn’t like that at all.

  In the rec room where Madison was allowed to have visitors, everyone was fully dressed and hanging out. I wouldn’t have been able to guess what any of them were here for.

  I walked over to Madison, who was sitting at a picnic table playing chess with another patient.

  “Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  Madison whispered something to the kid she was playing with and walked over to me.

  Mad looked the opposite of glamorous. But she also looked healthy.

  I waited a second, afraid to hug her. But Mad wasn’t at all hesitant. She put her long arms around me.

  “You look good,” I said over her shoulder.

  Mad’s model pout was replaced with a real genuine smile, the unguarded kind. The kind not meant for the camera. Her cheeks were pink—not from blush but from blushing.

  “I feel enormous,” she said when she pulled back from the hug. “But I know I’m not.”

  “How’s it been?” I asked.

  “It’s hard. But I’ll get there.” She had focus in her eyes. I believed her.

  “Enough about me,” Mad said. “Tell me—how was it, supermodel?”

  She led me to a tree in the courtyard outside and plopped down at the base of it. I kicked off the heels I was wearing and sat down beside her in the dirt.

  I told her about everything. The show. Matt. Lorelei’s offer.

  When I finished, Mad leaned back against the tree. “It’s not Lorelei’s fault. It’s the same everywhere. You should take the offer. It’s a great one. And I’d love it if one of us could stay in the fashion world.”

  “What? You want to give it all up?”

  “Well, not everything. I’m penning a column for Teen Dream. And my agent says that there’s interest in my story for a movie of the week. I might even try acting. I know it comes with another set of issues—but I think I want to give it a shot. Look, modeling was never my dream. And you shouldn’t give up yours.”

  I swallowed hard. Mad didn’t want me getting weepy on her.

  “So—chess, huh?”

  “I always wanted to learn,” Mad said. “And I have all this free time. And the kids here are all pretty cool. I could teach you sometime.”

  “I would love that. How about next weekend?”

  She looked up, as if she was a little surprised I said yes.

  As I walked back toward the lobby, I turned back to see Madison at play. She moved a piece across the board and said, “Your move.”

  As I walked out of the rehab center, my phone beeped. A text.

  Matt: Our spot. One hour.

  Me: I have to make a stop first.

  When I got to Lorelei’s office, she was sitting at her desk, pouring over reviews of the launch.

  She looked up, not surprised to see me.

  But suddenly I was surprised. On Lorelei’s desk, next to her iPad, was the folder of Jamie’s designs. Maybe change was possible. Maybe we just had to be brave enough to make it happen.

  “I’ll do it. But I have one condition,” I said.

  She laughed and leaned back in her chair to listen.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

&nb
sp; I was nervous. Matt and I hadn’t talked since the runway. Since the kiss. I wondered if he’d changed his mind about me. I wonder if Lorelei had changed it for him.

  This time, I got to our spot first. I sat on the grass and tucked my knees under my chin.

  He sat next to me wordlessly, his expression unreadable. But his hand found mine.

  “I know that Lorelei must hate me. I know she can make your life a nightmare. She could send you away.”

  “I don’t care,” he said. “Sure, I’d like you to be here next summer. But we can find another way. There are other fashion houses in LA, and after the splash you made, you could write your own ticket. Maybe we could try New York.”

  We? I liked the sound of “we.”

  “Won’t your mom have some kind of summer school plan for you next summer?”

  “My plan is to be wherever you are,” he said. “Besides if we tried New York, maybe I could take a few film classes.”

  I thought maybe Matt would have wanted me to do whatever it took to stay in the same city as him next summer. But instead, he wanted us both to be doing what we wanted.

  “Film? That’s so cool. But I don’t think we have to go to New York. I think I’ll meet you back here.”

  “Thea, are you sure … ?”

  I nodded. “I think the only way I can change anything is from the inside out. Next season, if I stay, Lorelei says she’ll use another model with a realistic body.”

  “Mom agreed to that?”

  “She says she already thought of it. She wants to do a model search every season with Teen Dream. It’s great cross-promotion for the brand. And I know it doesn’t change the world or anything. But whatever Lorelei Roy does, the rest of fashion follows.”

  “That’s amazing. But I’m a little disappointed.”

  “Why?”

  “I think you’re a great model.”

  There was no pause after it. Nothing that meant, if only I was thinner. And I didn’t make some joke about dieting forever. I was pretty sure that Lorelei’s show was the last time I’d hit the runway as a model. But by the time I was a real designer, a girl who looked like me wouldn’t be unthinkable. A girl like me might be the norm.