looking for girls who are bright, bubbly, and enthusiastic about living life to the fullest.” She smiled at the crowd. “Our models have an appetite for life, and—”
She did not just say that!
“—our goal is to show that to the world.
“Now, please let me introduce the Modeling Challenge Coordinators. You’ll be working closely with them over the next couple of weeks. Erika Snee, PeachWear’s Northern California Marketing Director—”
The door opened and one of the skinny women in black entered to courtesy claps.
“I’m sure you are all familiar with our celebrity coordinator and former HuskyPeach model,” Patricia continued, “Violet Page.” The polite claps grew into real applause, and a couple of the girls whistled and jumped up and down. The floor shook.
“Who is she?” Mom whispered in my ear.
“Dunno. Where is she?” I whispered back. The door remained closed. The applause and cheers died down. Patricia did not look happy. She whispered something to Erika, who seemed less happy that Patricia, and who then left the room. Patricia offered us a brittle smile. “I’m sure she’ll be with us in a moment.”
A few seconds later, the door did open. The applause started again, accompanied by squeals and hoots. Erika slipped back into the room, followed by a woman who had to be Violet Page. She was super tall, had long honey-colored hair, wide gray eyes framed by long lashes, and perfect skin. Violet Page was not skinny. Although not as round as some of the contestants, she was definitely what you’d call “husky.” And she was beautiful.
Mom, never concerned about embarrassing herself, tugged on the sleeve of the woman standing next to her who was applauding with enthusiasm. “Excuse me,” Mom said in response to the woman’s dirty look, “can you tell me who Violet Page is?”
The woman blinked and stopped clapping. “Are you kidding?” When Mom shook her head, she continued. “Only the most famous plus-sized model in the world. And she’s going to be launching my—I mean, our —daughters’ careers.”
Chapter 14
THAT’S WHO PAUL was talking about at dinner!
Before I could get any further into my thoughts, Erika broke the twelve contestants into groups of four for our interviews and photo shoots. She said over and over again that they wanted us to be “bubbly and engaging” during our conversations. One group would interview first, while the other two would start with the photos. Kind of like gym class, I thought. That was quickly followed by a memory of Yurk Fest, which I pushed away. No need to replace anyone else’s shoes. (Coach Anapoli’s gift card was still wedged in the bottom of my backpack.) But I would make things difficult, and if the plan I thought of on the ride up worked, there’d be no need for me to come back for round two—no matter what Mom said.
I was in the first-round interview group, along with the daughter of the woman who told us who Violet Page was, the girl in the purple bell-sleeved shirt, and a chunky Asian girl. One of the women in black led our moms and us down a hall to another conference room. “You’ll wait in here, and each contestant will be interviewed in the next room,” she said, standing outside the conference room.
“Alone?” Violet Page Explainer Mom asked.
The guide nodded. This was not the response VPE Mom wanted. She argued with our escort, explaining she needed to support her bay-be. Sounds like Aunt Doreen, I thought. Her curly-haired daughter stood to the side, studying the carpet. The rest of us filed past them into the room. Our guide closed the door, remaining in the hall to deal with VPE Mom.
Mom nudged me. “Isn’t this exciting,” she said, turning her head to take in the scene. I shrugged.
We sat at a small table (also holding snacks)— how much do they want us to eat? —and waited. Across from us sat the purple-shirt daughter and her mother; the other contestant sat at the far end of the table. The
She did not just say that!
“—our goal is to show that to the world.
“Now, please let me introduce the Modeling Challenge Coordinators. You’ll be working closely with them over the next couple of weeks. Erika Snee, PeachWear’s Northern California Marketing Director—”
The door opened and one of the skinny women in black entered to courtesy claps.
“I’m sure you are all familiar with our celebrity coordinator and former HuskyPeach model,” Patricia continued, “Violet Page.” The polite claps grew into real applause, and a couple of the girls whistled and jumped up and down. The floor shook.
“Who is she?” Mom whispered in my ear.
“Dunno. Where is she?” I whispered back. The door remained closed. The applause and cheers died down. Patricia did not look happy. She whispered something to Erika, who seemed less happy that Patricia, and who then left the room. Patricia offered us a brittle smile. “I’m sure she’ll be with us in a moment.”
A few seconds later, the door did open. The applause started again, accompanied by squeals and hoots. Erika slipped back into the room, followed by a woman who had to be Violet Page. She was super tall, had long honey-colored hair, wide gray eyes framed by long lashes, and perfect skin. Violet Page was not skinny. Although not as round as some of the contestants, she was definitely what you’d call “husky.” And she was beautiful.
Mom, never concerned about embarrassing herself, tugged on the sleeve of the woman standing next to her who was applauding with enthusiasm. “Excuse me,” Mom said in response to the woman’s dirty look, “can you tell me who Violet Page is?”
The woman blinked and stopped clapping. “Are you kidding?” When Mom shook her head, she continued. “Only the most famous plus-sized model in the world. And she’s going to be launching my—I mean, our —daughters’ careers.”
Chapter 14
THAT’S WHO PAUL was talking about at dinner!
Before I could get any further into my thoughts, Erika broke the twelve contestants into groups of four for our interviews and photo shoots. She said over and over again that they wanted us to be “bubbly and engaging” during our conversations. One group would interview first, while the other two would start with the photos. Kind of like gym class, I thought. That was quickly followed by a memory of Yurk Fest, which I pushed away. No need to replace anyone else’s shoes. (Coach Anapoli’s gift card was still wedged in the bottom of my backpack.) But I would make things difficult, and if the plan I thought of on the ride up worked, there’d be no need for me to come back for round two—no matter what Mom said.
I was in the first-round interview group, along with the daughter of the woman who told us who Violet Page was, the girl in the purple bell-sleeved shirt, and a chunky Asian girl. One of the women in black led our moms and us down a hall to another conference room. “You’ll wait in here, and each contestant will be interviewed in the next room,” she said, standing outside the conference room.
“Alone?” Violet Page Explainer Mom asked.
The guide nodded. This was not the response VPE Mom wanted. She argued with our escort, explaining she needed to support her bay-be. Sounds like Aunt Doreen, I thought. Her curly-haired daughter stood to the side, studying the carpet. The rest of us filed past them into the room. Our guide closed the door, remaining in the hall to deal with VPE Mom.
Mom nudged me. “Isn’t this exciting,” she said, turning her head to take in the scene. I shrugged.
We sat at a small table (also holding snacks)— how much do they want us to eat? —and waited. Across from us sat the purple-shirt daughter and her mother; the other contestant sat at the far end of the table. The
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