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  “Well, it’s time to pay attention. If you’re ever going to make it in modeling, this is a big day. Don’t you know it’s all about the walk?”

  “Great,” I mutter to Sabrina as Mindy and Molly walk in followed by a woman we’ve never seen before. Melody greets her with a hug.

  Here I am with a real live model teaching me how to be a runway model and telling me all of these interesting stories about what it’s really like behind the scenes at fashion week. I love being here. Before I know it, fatigue gives way to excitement.

  “Before we get started on runway, we have a special guest here to talk to you about Agency Day. Meet the person responsible for everything you guys are doing here.” Standing next to Melody is Chloe Dillon herself. I wasn’t even sure she really existed. She appears to be in her late fifties or early sixties. Like, you can tell she’s older but she looks really good for her age. I suspect there might be a little plastic surgery involved, but whatever she’s done is so subtle, it’s hard to tell. She evokes poise and polish with a pair of dark wash, straight cut jeans, a crisp, white, button up shirt that shows off a little cleavage, and black, peep toe pumps. Stick straight, wheat colored hair falls in chunky layers about her perfectly made up face. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the owner of a modeling and acting school.

  “You’ve all worked hard and you’re learning a lot. Agency Day is your chance to compete and receive honest feedback from casting directors. It’s a meet and greet opportunity with agencies for anyone who receives a call back. In order to participate, you must apply. We would love to have everyone, but our goal is for this to be a legitimate event showcasing those with potential. The most exciting part is that we’ll be awarding one Chloe Dillon student a one-year full tuition conservatory to attend The Film Institute in New York City, and another will receive a $25,000 modeling contract with a reputable agency out of Los Angeles.”

  Callie claps her hands over her mouth in excitement, and Janine tentatively raises her hand. “What if this is something we aren’t really interested in pursuing?”

  “Why wouldn’t you be interested in changing your life for the better?”

  Janine shrugs her shoulders.

  “It’s going to be here in San Diego, but there will be students attending from our other locations in Orange County and Los Angeles. The top three will be recognized in each category and there might be one person in this entire room who gets a call back or none at all. We make no promises. You really never know unless you show up, but it would be a shame for anyone to miss out on the chance. If nothing else, it’ll be a fun challenge and something you can invite your friends and family to. We do expect you to show up looking professional, the way you were taught. Come with a positive attitude and do your best. You will be representing us that day. This is the first time we’ve ever done something like this, and we’d like it to continue. Eventually, we may open it up to those outside the school, but for now, it’s only Chloe Dillon Students and we want to see as many people get call backs as possible.”

  Some of us appear stunned about this opportunity we didn’t realize we were getting just by taking a class. Mindy and Molly eye each other nervously. Agency Day could be the first step towards their joint Hollywood lives. Chloe Dillon wishes us luck and excuses herself so we can continue class.

  “Okay, everyone,” Melody says. “Get your heels out, and let’s start walking.”

  Melody demonstrates first, displaying mesmerizing intensity in her eyes, a subtle thrust of her hips and a silky smooth stride. It’s so much more than just walking.

  “Okay, guys,” she says, expectantly clasping her hands together. “I can’t wait to see what you came up with. I want you to pass around your outfit inspiration so everyone can get a look, before you give us a walk down the runway to show it off. We’ll start with...” she pauses for a minute with her eyes scanning us as she decides who she wants to throw out there to the wolves first. Her eyes rest on me and she says, “Alexis.”

  “Crap!” I think to myself but then realize I’ve said it out loud as my eyes widen in fear and my mouth drops open a little.

  “C’mon now, it’s not that bad.”

  I grab my magazine page, passing it to my left, as thumping music emanating from a large boom box in the corner fills the room. Melody motions with her hands for me to stand and has started to cheer me on. Soon, everyone joins in and suddenly, I’m not as nervous about doing this. I love my outfit and hell, I even like this song. So I put on a smile and get my strut on. I’m not thrilled with my walk reflected in the floor to ceiling mirror, but the music pumping and everyone clapping makes it a lot less excruciating. I’m trying to remember what I’ve seen on TV of models walking down the runway and the only thing that comes to mind is how they usually look really bored and vacant. And skinny. I strike what I think is a runway appropriate pose while everyone claps.

  “Great job!” Melody calls out. One by one, everyone takes a turn showing off outfits and playing fashion model, then Melody shuts off the music and gets down to the business of teaching us how to do it.

  “Slow down! This isn’t a race,” she yells out as Mindy power walks the runway with long strides. Molly’s pace is better, but her legs are so short, it looks like she’s moving faster than she is.

  “It’s not a beach day, speed it up a little,” Melody calls out to Karen who actually looks quite sophisticated in a striped flared skirt and gladiator sandals. You can take the girl out of her cut off shorts and flip-flops, but you can’t take the beach out of the girl.

  Talya doesn’t walk, she floats, but Callie is drowning. Her gangly arms and legs jut out at awkward angles while her face flushes a deep red, but she keeps on smiling with every step. I stifle a laugh at Janine’s sultry pout face and exaggerated attempt at a sexy walk but as bad as she is, I’m pretty sure I’m the worst one of us all today. I can’t focus.

  “You want to make sure that your shoulders are back and your neck is long,” Melody calls out to me as I skulk down the catwalk.

  When I put my shoulders back I feel like I’m sticking out my boobs, but it has to be way better than the hunchback of Notre Dame impression I usually run around with.

  I never realized how hard walking could be. By the end of the night, the unsteady baby colt is looking more like a gazelle, so Callie wins the award for most improved. Her walk is plain but steady, and with her quirky, freckled face and thin body, she could be any one of those robotic models of Fashion Week. When class is over, Melody reminds us to keep up with our food journals and announces we’ll be going over it next week. But I barely hear her because I have already started playing the what if game in my head. The chance I was hoping for just fell into my lap.

  Later that night, I methodically perform my nightly bedtime routine. Shower. Remove contacts. Brush teeth. Floss. I step into my pajamas like I do every single night, but my head is on another planet. What if I apply for Agency Day? What if I win an acting scholarship in New York City? What if?

  Chapter 22

  Next Tuesday in class, we show up with our food journals. The diary of shame is what I call it. Actually having to write down everything I ate and see it spelled out on paper sucked all the joy out of mindlessly stuffing food into my face. Which I guess is kind of the point. Ignorance was bliss.

  Sabrina isn’t there yet, so I ask Tessa to Sarah’s housewarming party. I don’t even want to go myself, but I have no choice. I was talking up runway class in the break room during lunch and it all went downhill from there.

  “I don’t get it. What’s the point? I think we’ve been walking for most of our life.”

  “Sarah, it’s not just walking, it’s runway walking. It’s about exuding confidence, and you know I need to be pushed out of my comfort zone.”

  “That’s great,” she said, nodding her head, but she’d already moved on to another topic. “Speaking of your comfort zone, you are coming to our party next weekend, aren’t you?”

  I had no plans for tha
t day, and just told her I needed a push. She had me cornered. When she said I could bring as many friends as I wanted, any excuse I might have come up with vanished.

  I take a seat next to Tessa. “Hey. How are you?”

  “Good,” she says, hugging her food journal to her chest.

  “So, I was wondering... My co-worker Sarah is having a housewarming slash late engagement slash cocktail party this Saturday. Would you like to go?”

  She glances around the room. I can tell she’s checking to see if Sabrina is around.

  “Yes, Sabrina is coming.”

  “Well, does she know you’re inviting me?”

  “Yes,” I say. It’s just a little white lie. She technically doesn’t know right this minute, but she will.

  Tessa gives me an uncertain look.

  “Look, its fine. Say you’ll come. It’s not really my type of crowd and I could use all the moral support I can get.”

  “Okay. I’ll come. I just don’t want her getting all bent out of shape over it.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I say, feigning confidence. “I’m going to invite Talya too. This way we can mingle with each other and I won’t have to worry about being abandoned in a corner somewhere with a glass of wine in my hand. It’s happened more times than I care to remember.”

  I’ve never thought to ask before, but this tension between Sabrina and Tessa is feeling more like a thing than a coincidence and it’s really starting to get annoying. I take a shot in the dark. “Hey, just curious, can you think of any reason why Sabrina has such an issue with you? I mean, it really doesn’t make any sense. The ice is broken. Everyone likes you now.”

  She purses her lips and appears to be choosing her words carefully, but when she opens her mouth, the only thing that comes out is, “Uh...I mean...it could be anything, really...maybe it’s my hair or who knows...” She makes a swooshing sound, letting a breath of air escape her lips, and shrugs her shoulders. That’s a weird response. Her hair? But I don’t really have a chance to pursue it further.

  Sabrina walks in right then and glares in my direction when she sees me sitting with Tessa. “See ya later,” I say to Tessa with a half-smile and go to my usual seat next to Sabrina.

  “So what’s the deal with you and Tessa?”

  “What do you mean, what’s the deal? She’s in our class. She’s our age. I like her. Everyone else likes her. What’s your deal?”

  No response. Well, might as well get it over with. “I invited her to the housewarming on Saturday.”

  “Now why would you do a thing like that?”

  “Well, why not? I know you aren’t her biggest fan and she can be a little self-important at times, but seriously, I don’t get why you can’t just get over it and be civil. She’s friendly with everyone else except you.”

  Sabrina sighs and tilts her head back in annoyance. “Can we not talk about this please?”

  She stonewalls me any time I mention Tessa. I ask Tessa and she tells me that maybe Sabrina doesn’t like her hair.

  “Okay everyone, we’re going to get started now,” Melody says, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a scale.

  My eyes bug out of my head. Are we getting weighed in class? She hands around several tape measures.

  “Okay, what we’re going to do right now is get your measurements, including height and weight. This is information you need to know. It will go on your zed card and when you go to auditions, you’ll fill out sheet after sheet requesting this information. If you aren’t satisfied with your numbers, this also gives you a starting point to work on improving them from here on out.”

  I have a scale at home, but I prefer to measure my body by whether or not my pants zip up. At least Melody isn’t being cruel about it. She’s set it in the corner on the other side of the runway so we can go over there and weigh in without the whole world looking.

  “After you’re done with measurements, we’ll go over your food journals.”

  I make a beeline for the scale, before anyone else starts to gather in that area. Of course, I can’t get naked right here, but the shoes definitely have to go. Taking a deep breath, I step on the scale, sending the needle shooting quickly to the right. It bounces a few times before settling on a number. My tight jeans were telling the truth and it’s not my imagination. I’ve definitely gained weight. I step off quickly when I hear someone approaching.

  “So, how much?” Callie asks, smiling.

  I don’t think she really gets that it’s not exactly public information.

  “Uhhh...let’s just say it’s more than you.”

  Some tall gymnasts are thin and lean, but I wasn’t built that way. Now that my gymnastics days are long gone and I haven’t stepped into a gym in years, I’m not even muscular anymore. My waist nips in nicely, but my hips and thighs are bigger than I’d like them to be. I’d say I’m midsized. Or is that word only used to describe a car? I’ve always been that girl who could probably stand to lose a few pounds but looks mostly okay if she doesn’t.

  Sabrina has finished writing in her sizes on the sheets and asks if I’ll help her take her measurements. I hold the tape measure around her bust, and work my way down rattling off the numbers as I go.

  “Thanks, you want me to do yours?” she says, reaching for the tape measure.

  “Nope,” I say, quickly snatching it away from her hand.

  I get my hip, waist and bust measurements and fill in the rest of my sizes on the worksheet. I’m definitely not the largest girl in the room. That would be Janine, but she seems perfectly fine with this whole process. She’s partnered up with skinny minnie Tessa, and they take each other’s measurements. She simply nods her head each time Tessa announces a number, and writes it down. Even Molly, who tends to be self-conscious about her stocky body, casually tosses her neatly parted at the side hair and hands the tape measure over to Mindy. I’m the only one who’s totally freaked out by my own body. When Sabrina comes back, I discreetly turn my sheet over.

  Melody raises her voice above the chitchat in the room, telling us to take out our food journals. “We’re going to start by talking about what a balanced diet is. What that looks like and the types of foods that you should be eating.” We follow along, starting with page one picturing an Eat Well Plate.

  With each word coming out of Melody’s mouth, I know exactly why I’m so mortified by my weight and totally dissatisfied by my body. I can’t be bothered with vegetables, and if I’m not skipping breakfast altogether, I’m eating a bagel or a donut with coffee at my desk or overeating at lunchtime because I’ve allowed myself to get too hungry. I can’t leave the grocery store without a bag of chips or sweets and I give in to those vending machines at work at least three times per week. My plate is actually called the eating not so well plate and it looks totally different from the one in our workbook.

  Melody finishes up her lecture and tells us to spend the last part of class going over our food journals, comparing it to what we should be eating and coming up with a revised plan for what changes we can make in the future. I sneak a peek at Sabrina’s food journal, full of sweets and takeout and two donuts yesterday.

  “Remember everyone, it’s not about being skinny. It’s about being healthy. It’s a lifestyle not a diet,” Melody calls out.

  Says the skinny, high-metabolism-having model. Actresses don’t have to be as thin as models, but surely it helps to be trim and fit. I’m distressed just thinking about the changes in diet I need to make to get me where I want to be, and that’s before throwing in exercise.

  We spend the rest of class analyzing our food journals while Melody gives us information on how to shop at the grocery store and the best ways to save money while still eating healthy. Then, she comes around to each of us to go over our diet plans. When she gets to me, I’m sitting there with my pen in my hand. I have yet to make a single note, while Sabrina has already gone online and signed up for her first Fresh and Healthy food service delivery. Problem solved.

  Melody pull
s up her chair. “What’s wrong?”

  I sigh. “I just don’t know where to start. I’m not really much for cooking, I’m on a budget and I’m picky. I do frozen foods—whichever ones are on sale.”

  “You just have to start slow,” she says to me. “Start with cooking just one or two days per week. You don’t have to cut out healthy frozen entrées altogether but they shouldn’t be your primary source of food. There are some really easy recipes in your workbook to get you started. You can do it,” she says encouragingly.

  “Melody. You’re a stick. You don’t know what it’s like to be even a pound overweight.”

  “You’re right. I’ve always been thin, but I still try to eat right because I know it’s better for me and as I get older, I can tell my metabolism is trying to catch up with me.”

  How am I supposed to take diet tips from a walking Barbie Doll who has clearly never been on a real diet in her life? The typical rules hardly even apply to her. Not that it would make that much of a difference. I don’t want to be bothered with this whole cooking and dieting thing, but if diet is really 80% of weight loss like Melody says, I have no choice. It’s time to start making an effort.

  I stare at my blank sheet of paper and write down things I like to eat and things I might be able to cook. It’s a start, I think sadly as I mentally mourn the loss of Skittles and Cool Ranch Doritos.

  Chapter 23

  I still don’t know what I’m going to wear to Sarah’s party on Saturday. Every day, I slide open the doors, stare at my shabby excuse for a wardrobe, shake my head and slide it closed again in frustration. It’s like I’m hoping I’ll open my closet one day and something acceptable will appear, but it never happens. This is just one reason I didn’t want to go. Sarah also invited Angela and they have all of these wealthy entrepreneur type friends. They all own their own businesses or are self-employed and are on this happy trip about being their own bosses, so all they want to do is talk shop. They assume I’m an entrepreneur like them and when I say I’m not, they seem confused or disappointed. I can’t tell which. I had a horrible time the last time Sarah invited me out to dinner with these same friends, and having nothing to wear, which is the story of my life, isn’t helping.