The Anomaly by J.A. Cooper

Chapter 1
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    T he first time my modeling agent saw me, he said I was flawless. I was a high school freshman and had just stepped off the school bus. I was walking home with my next door neighbor, who was also tall for his age. The proximity of our townhouses and classes made us fast friends.
    The man on the sidewalk surprised us both, because he wore a suit though it was only three in the afternoon. We were used to seeing suits in the neighborhood, including on our parents, coming home after five p.m. He complimented me first, and then my lanky friend, and he told us he was a modeling agent, a legitimate New York one. He’d just left his mother’s house. She’d invited him over for lunch.
    “Do you know her?” he asked, pointing at the red-brick house on his left.
    My friend and I nodded, though I carefully eyed the man who was seemingly trying to razzle-dazzle us. I’d read enough about modeling scams, and since I’d been a tall girl since age twelve, it wasn’t the first time I’d been approached because of my looks.
    The year before, I’d fallen for the lip service of a fast-talking woman in the mall. I’d begged my mom to let me go visit the agency, but Mom was hesitant. Eventually, my constant whining that there were legitimate agencies out there wore her down. When we went to the agency, it was a total bait-and-switch scheme. No longer was it about the premium opportunities the agency could provide me; it was about signing up for their catwalk and makeup classes―to start. Needless to say, my mom wasn’t pleased. Thankfully, she showed some grace by not saying, “I told you so, Shayna,” as we made the hour drive back home.
    Still, to be polite, I took the business card the man offered us. When I got inside my house, I skimmed the card then threw it in the trash can in the kitchen. I didn’t bother to tell Mom about our exchange.
    A few days later, as we were walking home, my friend told me that he’d contacted the agent. After seeing my friend’s interest, his mother had demanded she go with him to see what the modeling agency thing was all about.
    “They’re legit,” he said.
    “No way,” I said, surprised.
    He nodded. “For real, Shayna. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. I even have a booking for a small runway show at the mall this weekend.”
    I decided to look them up online. Everything looked all right, and I wondered if the agency was actually real. Why wouldn’t I want to model? I’d always been told I had the height and beauty to do it. I decided to ask Mom, who told me no. But I had a knack for spotting people’s weaknesses. She’d said no, but she didn’t sound too sure about it. After all, she knew that modeling could be a good way to make money.
    Things had gotten a bit harder for my mom after my parents’ divorce. We no longer lived a totally comfortable lifestyle, and my sister and I were aware that Mom paid the bills paycheck to paycheck.
    So Mom and I took the chance again. The modeling agency proved to be a small group that was quickly gaining momentum in the industry, because the owner was a deflected top New York agent―the man on the sidewalk.
    Agency staff showed me the ropes―how to walk, how to put on makeup, how to pose for a camera and dress for my body type. All of the stuff they felt I needed to know to make it in the industry, I learned for free.
    Within a year, I was being booked for gigs across New York, which my mom had relegated to weekends and holidays. And I got to fly to places as close as Massachusetts and as far away as Japan for jobs during the summer. Mom traveled with me if the job was only a few days; otherwise, my older sister went with me. The money I earned... Well, it changed our lives. Mom and I worked out a plan where some of my money paid for our household expenses, I saved some, and I got to spend the rest. My mom was able to save the child support money my dad paid, so my sister had a year’s worth of savings in