Authors: Amelia Whitmore
The good news is that there’s a little café by the registers
so I make Brayden go get us some pizzas and drinks, trying to save some time.
While he’s gone, I’m completely distracted by the thought of actually modeling
for somebody. I’m sure it’s probably one of those backyard events, but it’s
still intimidating to think about getting my picture taken by a stranger.
I sigh and clear my thoughts, realizing that as long as it
makes Brayden happy, I’d do just about anything.
***
This freaking photo shoot was the worst idea ever. I hate
Brayden so much right now I could practically strangle him. It turns out that
Helena Rose is actually Helena R. Fuentes, one of the top-rated photographers
for
Lady
magazine, which is one of the top teenage fashion magazines in
the country. What the hell was she doing in Minnesota, anyway?
When we got here this morning, about two weeks after our
trip to Sam’s Club, there were about a billion people “on set.” We were
immediately separated and brought to clothing and makeup. The whole process of
dolling me up was a lot shorter than I expected, but it still took about
forty-five minutes.
The two-second glance I get in the mirror before being
pulled away for pictures shows me in a rust and cream- colored sleeveless dress
with a floral pattern that hugs the base of my neck and goes down to just above
my knees. My feet are already killing me in insanely high red stilettos. My
hair is in a voluminous old Hollywood style with my side bangs pulled up and
swept off to the side, the rest tumbling in curls down my back. My eyes are now
dark and smoky, with fake eyelashes, and my lips have never been this red. I
feel like Snow White.
“Anna, they need you out there now,” I hear someone tell me.
“Okay,” I say nervously, wondering what’s about to happen.
I follow Helena’s assistant around the large building we’re
shooting in until we reach a long white sheet that’s hung up, probably to give
us a white background.
A huge smile covers my face when I see Brayden hanging out
with some of the workers on set, already friends with them. One of the guys
nudges his arm, motioning to me. I watch as Brayden quickly turns and a smile
bigger than mine appears on his face.
I laugh a little nervously before meeting him halfway,
stopping in front of a dark brown leather couch set up as a prop. When we meet,
Brayden grabs my right hand and lifts it, making me spin for him, before
pulling me back in and grabbing my other hand. Before he can say anything, a
voice interrupts him. “That was perfect! Such chemistry!”
I blush and look to my left with wide eyes to see Helena
standing behind a camera looking impressed. “Oh, sorry,” I say, not apologizing
for the chemistry, but for not realizing she was standing there.
“Don’t be sorry, dear. Unfortunately, it’s not quite what
we’re going for with this one, but that’d be perfect for the yellow dress,” she
assures me, assuming I know what she’s talking about. I don’t. “Now, I want you
both to sit on the couch. Brayden, I see you slouching against the armrest,
your chin resting on your arm, okay?” she asks, and nods as Brayden does what
she says, looking like he’s enjoying a lazy Sunday in front of the TV. “Now,
Anna, I want you sitting beside Brayden, leaning against him and looking so
bored you could almost fall asleep, okay?”
I nod and do as she says, feeling really weird. I thought we
were going to be modeling. Instead, I get to sit around. I could get used to
this. Only then she starts fiddling with the camera, apparently deciding that
she needs to switch to a different one. Absentmindedly, I sigh and sit forward,
resting my elbows on my knees and my head in my palms. I’m absently looking up
at the ceiling for something interesting when I’m nearly blinded.
“That’s perfect, much better than you slouching. It gives us
a better light too.” I blush when I realize she thinks I’m modeling.
“Yes! That uncomfortable face you’re making right now, Anna,
that’s great, keep doing it!” she exclaims, sounding inspired by my complete
lack of skill.
When a small piece of hair falls in front of my face,
despite the gallon of hairspray the makeup artists used, I give an accidental
irritated scowl and try blowing it away from my face. “Anna, you’re a natural,”
I hear Helena exclaim.
Then I feel Brayden’s body jerk a little bit and I know he’s
chuckling. I twist my head and narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not trying at
all, are you?” he asks knowingly, amused as he leans forward to me.
“Nope,” I admit with a smirk.
“You’re lucky you’re so adorable,” he tells me, smirking
back wickedly before tweaking my nose, making me jerk my irritated face away
from him.
“I didn’t even think about this one,” Helena says as she
quickly switches cameras again. “It’s like he’s so bored that he’s irritating
you,” she says excitedly.
“He is!” I cry out indignantly, making everybody laugh.
After that, only a few more shots are taken before we’re sent back to hair and
makeup. Lucky Brayden, he only needs to change his clothes and maybe get his
hair ruffled. None of my other looks require this much makeup, so they wipe it
all off with a surprisingly effective cloth. Normally at home, even though I
don’t wear much, it’s a pain to take off my makeup. My face is always left red
and sore.
My next look is apparently the only one that Brayden’s not
posing with me for, which makes me about ten times more nervous than I was.
Tally, the girl in charge of my wardrobe, says that we’re going hippie-chic. They
dress me in a yellow dress with three-quarter sleeves, brown tights, a dark
cyan-colored shoe, and a headband that’s wrapped around my forehead. My hair is
now in waves, which is shocking to me since I’ve never been able to curl my
hair and then do something else to it without washing and blow-drying it in
between. I’ve hardly got any makeup on—only mascara and some cover-up.
On the set, I stand there kind of awkwardly until I hear
Brayden cracking up off to the side. I shoot him a glare, effectively quieting
him. Helena just looks at me kind of expectantly. “Uh, I’m not sure how to act
like a hippie,” I confess.
“Oh, you’re not a hippie at all!” She exclaims, “You’re a
free-spirited youth who believes there need to be political changes,” she
informs me seriously, making me burst out laughing. Aren’t they the same thing?
“Anna, just chill. Play around with it,” Brayden advises
softly.
I don’t know how or why, but it works. Suddenly, I’m able to
feel just like I did when Brayden and I were dancing at the banquet. I don’t
care what everybody thinks of me, I’m just relaxed and moving into whatever
position Helena tells me to.
Our next look is a day date theme. My hair is pulled up into
a high, loose bun. The makeup artist put a little blush on my cheeks and a bit
of lip gloss on my lips before sending me to wardrobe. Tally put me in a pair
of dark skinny jeans, brown booties, and a vintage-esque cream tank top with a
strap of beads hanging down across the top.
Brayden is in a pair of jeans with a white button-down short-sleeved
shirt on. He looks amazing. At one point, we have to act like we’re walking
down the sidewalk, which is harder than you’d think. Another time, we’re at a
coffee shop, which wasn’t as fun for me since most of my days are spent at one.
Our last scene is us having a picnic with our puppy. Rascal is the cutest
little yellow Lab I’ve ever seen and, if Mom wasn’t so allergic to dogs, I’d
take him home with me. This scene is more natural than the other ones, since
it’s easy to just be ourselves as we fawn over a puppy.
Our last shoot is a night club. They even play music for us
to dance to. It’s incredibly awkward at first since I’m constantly pulling down
my blue and black bodycon dress. Who gives a fat girl something that hugs her
entire body? Not to mention the fishnet tights or the crazy high heels. I
almost feel a bit slutty when my hair and makeup are added to the mix. Latisha
swept some black shadow over my eyes and added the darkest lipstick I’ve ever
seen to my lips. Kelly added extensions to my hair, making it appear to reach
my hips.
Then there’s the way that Brayden insists on dancing. We’re
practically having sex with clothes on, and he is totally enjoying it. Not only
the dancing, but my humiliation as well. What a great boyfriend. This is one
scene where I really don’t loosen up over time. It is so nerve-racking for me
to be watched by a bunch of people while Brayden is trying to grind on me.
At last, Helena’s finished and we get to go change. In the
dressing room, I’m shocked when Tally reminds me to grab one of the items.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“It’s Helena’s way of thanking the models, beyond just
paying them,” she explains.
“Pay?” I echo. Money hadn’t even entered my mind.
She laughs. “She’s Helena R. Fuentes. Did you really expect
her not to pay you for your time?”
I shake my head, “I hadn’t thought about it, actually.” I
admit.
Looking at the clothes, I decide to take the shirt from the
third shoot. I love it. Brayden’s waiting for me outside the dressing rooms,
looking as happy as ever. We hold hands as we make our way over to the large
computers, where Helena’s crouched down with reading glasses as she looks at
our pictures.
“Excuse me,” I say softly, not wanting to interrupt.
“Oh, you two, come look!” she exclaims, stepping aside for
us to see. I’m astonished at how they turned out. She’s quite the artist. I
don’t even look overweight at all. In fact, I might even look pretty. Brayden
looks like a god in every picture he’s in, which isn’t a surprise.
Suddenly four images pop up on the screen and I gasp. From
the first shoot, they’re using the one of me when I initially leaned forward
without realizing it. It turned out really well. From my hippie one, they’re
using a picture I hadn’t even realized she’d taken. At one point, Brayden had made
me laugh by talking in a whispery voice off camera and saying “I am Summer
Shine and world peace is my destiny,” as he casually moved the imaginary locks
from his face and waved a peace sign. Smiling, with my head tilted to the side,
I had returned the gesture.
Next is our park photo, where Rascal is trying to lick my
face. My nose and eyes are scrunched together but I’m still smiling widely.
Brayden’s looking at me and the dog with a really serene expression on his
face, like he’s having the best day ever.
From our last shoot, there’s a surprisingly good image of
us, where we’re looking deep in each other’s eyes, our lips only inches apart.
Brayden had grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him so quickly that I could
only grasp his shoulders and look up to see what he was doing.
“Holy crap,” I finally murmured, still surprised at how well
they turned out.
“You’ll be able to see them in the February issue of
Lady
magazine. Here you go,” she says, handing me a slip of paper. I, completely
confused, look down to see that it’s a check, with a few too many zeros after
it. When I gasp, I end up choking on my spit (something that happens far too
often) while handing their checks.
We try giving it back, but apparently that’s bad business
behavior since she just shooed us away. In the truck, I’m still staring at the
money. I’ve never seen a check for this much.
“I can’t believe you just made three thousand dollars,”
Brayden says, chuckling.
“You mean
we
made three thousand dollars,” I correct.
“No, I mean you. You’re the one who did all the work,” he
says.
“I didn’t do anything. This money is both of ours,” I argue.
“Anna, I don’t want the money.”
“Well then neither do I, if you’re not taking half,” I tell
him.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not being stupid! You worked just as hard as I did. In
fact, we wouldn’t even have been there today if you hadn’t convinced me,” I
say.
“I want you to have the money,” he says softly.
“And I don’t want it without you. It’s not fair and I’ll
always feel guilty for it,” I tell him in the same tone.
“Why are you so stubborn?” he whines, clearly giving in.
I cheer. “Thank you!” Then I carefully hug him, making sure
I don’t bump the hand on the wheel.
It’s been a few weeks since Brayden and I modeled for Helena
and things have been going better than I ever imagined they would. As often as
he can, Brayden meets me at work and I take my break with him. We spend nearly
every weekend together, unless we’re working opposite shifts. Brayden’s apartment
finally got cleared, so we spend most of our time there.
For some idiotic reason, at the beginning of the year, Ro
convinced me to join the dance committee at school, which is in charge of
putting on the winter formal. It had something to do with Sam being on it too
and I was supposed to grow a tremendous amount from it. Blah blah blah.
Unfortunately, and I know this from experience with the
homecoming dance, Sam just gives me this pathetic look every time he sees me
and it irritates me. Hopefully he won’t do that anymore now that I told him
off. He’s been avoiding me in classes, which I don’t mind.
Anyway, the winter formal is coming up and I have to help
with it. I hate helping with those kinds of things, but I somehow always manage
to get roped into everything. Like right now, I’m crouched down in the middle
of the gym, surrounded by boxes. Why do people enjoy hiding everything I need?
It seems like this happens to me all the time—I need something, so clearly it
won’t be easy to find. Does the dance even need glittered snowflakes to hang
from the ceiling? Really?
“Do you need any help with that?” I hear from the other side
of the box I’m looking through. Glancing up, I roll my eyes when I see who’s
asking.