The Secret Life of a Teenage Siren by Wendy Toliver

model!” Ms. Bedhead gushes.
    A
model?
    I can honestly say I’ve never,
ever
been told I should be a model. I’ve never even entertained the notion, not in my wildestdreams. Of course, I never dreamed that someday I’d be a Siren, either. But really, why not? I mean, why waste my summer flinging fries at Wendy’s when I could be modeling? I mean, I didn’t watch all those
America’s Next Top Model
episodes for nothing. Besides, it would definitely pay a lot more than fast food, and maybe I’d be able to buy myself a car. I
did
just get my driver’s license, after all.
    On the way out to Alex’s Civic, he tosses me the keys. I try to catch them but miss, and they land on the asphalt with a clank.
    â€œYou want me to drive?” I ask, bending down to pick up the keys. “You sure?”
    â€œSure. You’re legal now, right?”
    â€œRight.” Well, sort of. I just hope I never have to parallel park. I adjust the seat and stick the key in the ignition. Here goes nothin’.
    â€œJust pull into that gas station over there. I’m running on empty.”
    â€œRight.”
    It takes me a couple of tries to align Alex’s car so the gas pump will reach. Okay, so it takes more like five or six, but who’s counting? Alex is so sweet; he doesn’t even make fun of me. He just hops out and startsfilling her up, leaving me a few moments to ponder my future modeling career.
    I’ve heard commercials on the radio about modeling agencies, and I’m sure there are loads of them listed on the Internet. I’ll just call a few of the more impressive-sounding ones and make appointments. But first things first. I definitely need to rev up the ol’ wardrobe. And who has more fashion sense in her pinky finger than I have in my entire body? Natalie O’Brien, my best friend. Or is she my
ex
-best friend? Are things ever going to be the same between us?
    I guess I’ll just have to make the first move. Best friends don’t throw entire friendships out the window for something as stupid as a party. I pull out my cell and text message her. HEY GIRL. WANNA GO ON A SHOPPING SPREE?
    I’m totally psyched about this. Natalie won’t be able to turn down shopping, and it’ll be a great way to get everything back to normal between us.
    Two minutes later my phone beeps and the words GO ASK UR PROUD CROWD FRIENDS appear. My mouth goes dry.
    I bite my lower lip and type, I’D RATHERGO W/ U but I don’t send it. Instead, I delete it and send, FINE.
    But it’s not fine. How could I have been so wrong about Natalie? Besides, there’s no way I’m calling up Eva and Amber. I could always call Zach. He’s not exactly a fashionista, unless I missed the memo that Nike is the new Versace. But he is my boyfriend. Well, he’s almost my boyfriend, right? I mean, we did go on a date. And we did make out. I dial his number. “Hey, Zach.”
    â€œHello? Uh, who is this?”
    â€œIt’s Roxy.” Who does he
think
it is?
    â€œOh, heeeeey.”
    â€œHey.”
    â€œSo what’s up, beautiful?”
    â€œNot much. Just getting ready to go shopping.”
    â€œUgh. I hate shopping. Well, have fun. I’m off to shoot some hoops with the guys.”
    â€œOh.” Okay, so I guess Zach and I aren’t hitting the mall. Now what? Isn’t he going to ask me out or something? Were we just a one-date wonder? Am I going to have to play my flute every single time I want to do something with him?
    â€œSee ya …” Oh no! He’s going to hang up!

    â€œEr, Zach?”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œWant to … get a bite to eat a little later?” My heart is beating like crazy. What if he says no?
    â€œOkay, sure. Pick you up at seven?”
    â€œGreat.”
    â€œGreat.”
    â€œOkay, bye.”
    Whew. Close one. For a minute there, I thought maybe he didn’t like me.
    When I get home,