Girls Only! (24 page)

“I called you before, but your voice mail sounded strange.”

“It was, but it’s fixed now,” she told him, not sure what else to say.

“That’s cool.”

There was a long, awkward pause. Heather didn’t know if she should speak first or if Micky should. She felt terribly tense. Was this how it was when a boy called a girl? They hardly knew what to say to each other?

At last, he said, “I saw an ad for a modeling agency at Natalie Johnston’s studio.”

“Really? I saw it, too.”

“So . . . are you going to try out?” he asked.

“I might.”

“Hey, really? Well, guess what? I’m going over there, too.” He went on to say that he heard the agency was looking for kids, boys, girls, and older people.

“You’re kidding, it’s not just for girls?” she asked.

“No, and they offer commercial, runway, and catalog opportunities,” he said. “My dad called the phone number listed on the ad. They actually get you set up for a portfolio and slides and everything.”

“For how much?”

“I think it’s six hundred dollars.”

“That much?” she said.

“Seems like a lot, but if you make the final,
final
cut, they’ll make appointments with different modeling companies for you. It’s great.”

She wondered if Micky was planning a future in skating. But she didn’t ask. She didn’t care, not really. Her interest in Micky was purely shallow. She thought he was nice, of course—and cute—but she didn’t have time for a close friendship with a boy. Not at her age.

“Well, thanks for the info,” she said, thinking she ought to get going.

“Uh, sure. Can I call you again?”

“You know what? It might be better if we just talk to each other at the rink sometimes. I’m
so
busy with training and my homework.” She told him she was homeschooled, too. “We have lots of hours and requirements to meet for the state of Colorado.”

“That kind of study is real tough, isn’t it?”

“We like it that way. No time wasted, you know”

They said their good-byes, and by the time the conversation was over, Heather felt she knew Micky much better than before. But most of all, she was surprised that the agency was accepting
boys
.

Their family doctor seemed almost too pleased to have her visit. “Let’s see how that knee’s healing,” he said, poking and prodding at it. She walked down the hall and up, turned her feet inside and out for him. Even twirled on the carpet to show him how “just fine” her knee was.

But the one-on-one conversation she had with the doctor—Mom outside, in the waiting room—was the most painful. “Your mother tells me you haven’t been eating much lately,” he began.

She nodded.

“Are you not feeling well these days, Heather?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

“I see.” He folded his arms across his chest, studying her through his glasses. “Still have a good appetite?”

“Yes.”

“Just aren’t eating?”

“Yes.”

“And can you tell me why that is?” He tilted his head the way her father often did when he was probing for answers.

“Well, I want to look skinny . . . uh, thin.”

“According to our charts, you’re quite slender, just as you are.”

“But I want to be thinner.”

“Is there any particular reason why?”

She chuckled slightly under her breath. Doc wasn’t going to hear about Kevin today. Nobody needed to know how angry she was at him. “I skate lots better when I feel light, that’s all.”

“Yes, I suppose you do,” he replied, getting up and going to the table. He brought back with him a small model of a human skeleton. “Have you ever seen one of these?”

“Only here, in your office.”

“Do you understand that there are many aspects to our bodies?” He paused. “Our bones need certain foods in order to maintain health.” He continued on, reciting the importance of tissue, muscles, and nerves. “All essential to hold us together.” Here, he smiled at her. “We need food to recharge our human machine.”

He wasn’t telling her anything new.

“Any questions?” he asked.

“No.”

“All right, then I’ll see you back again next week.”

Next week?

“I’m coming back so soon?” She didn’t get it.

“Each week, we’ll talk . . . okay with you?”

She was still baffled. This was a first. Something Mom had dreamed up, or what?

Before she left, the nurse weighed her and measured her height, recording it in a book.

Very weird
, she thought.

Photo Perfect

Chapter Fifteen

By some miracle, Heather’s parents consented to allow her to try out with the modeling agency. Mom accompanied her, arriving a half hour before the place actually opened.

They sat in the car, chatting calmly. Mom wasn’t pushy, even though she had every right to be. Yet Heather could hardly wait to go through the process of being chosen or not.

By the time the doors opened, at least fifty people had gathered. Even several men and women. But mostly girls her age had come, along with several boys. A few small children were present with their mothers, too.

First thing, she was asked to fill out a questionnaire, asking her vital statistics: chest, waist, and hip measurements. Along with that, her height and weight. She knew her weight and height precisely because she had been weighed at the doctor’s office yesterday.
One hundred and two pounds . . . five feet four inches
. She’d lost three pounds in almost two weeks. Not bad.

When her name was called, two women, beautifully dressed and made up, looked her over, starting with her face. She was also asked to show her hands. “Do you have any scars or tattoos?” one asked her.

“None.”

She noticed that most of the girls were at least five feet six inches or taller. She was one of the shortest girls in her age group. Also, one of the thinnest.

“Please have a seat, Miss Heather Bock,” one of the women judges said.

Miss Heather Bock
. Had a nice ring to it, she decided.

Heather and her mother waited together until the next group of contestants was called. “Do you think I’ll make the first cut?” she asked her mother, crossing her legs at the ankles and sliding them under the chair.

“Oh, honey, I’m sure you will.” Mom seemed so confident, so poised. Just the way Heather wanted to be. “But if not, please don’t take this hard. It’s just two women’s opinions.”

She knew what Mom was getting at. Still, she wanted to be chosen so badly.

“Always remember that what God thinks of you is what truly counts. You don’t have to prove anything to your heavenly Father.”

“I know, Mom.” Yet Heather fought it. More than anything, she wanted to be accepted here on earth. By friends and family. By her skating partner.

“Promise you won’t be upset if you don’t make the final cut?” Mom was saying.

“But . . . what if I do? What then?”

“We’ll talk about it if that does, indeed, happen.”

“So I might be able to do some modeling in my free time?” she asked.

“We’ll see.”

She had a strange feeling her mother knew something she didn’t. But she wasn’t bailing out yet. She was going to hold her breath for this.

At long last, the names of girls in her age category were called. The names were called alphabetically. Her name was the fourth on the list!

“What’ll I do now?” she whispered.

“Follow instructions, dear.” Mom waited while Heather was asked to walk up and down a long aisle, with folding chairs set up on either side.

She felt very much like she did when she was skating. Gliding was more like it. She knew how to put one leg in front of the other, point her feet, and move gracefully.

“Thanks, Miss Bock,” the woman said. “Can you and your mother return this evening?”

“Yes, I believe we can.”

“At that time, we’ll give you additional information about our company, how long we’ve been in business . . . that sort of thing. We can’t guarantee any certain type of job, be it runway or catalog.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “Thank you.”

She could hardly keep from dashing back to the area where Mom sat. “I made it! They want me,” she said. “Can you believe this is happening?”

Mom smiled and gave her a big hug. “Honey, I know how beautiful you are. No, I’m not a bit surprised.”

Joanne and Tommy were surprised, though. And impressed. They trotted around behind her at home all afternoon. “Make way for Queen Heather,” Joanne kept saying.

“I’ll hold the edge of your royal robe,” Tommy said.

“And
I’ll
make her crown!” declared Joanne.

“Will you two cut it out,” Heather said. “Mom, make them stop!”

Mom did her best, but when they were supposed to be working on social studies at the table, Joanne kept whispering, “Your Majesty . . .”

“Quit it,” she whispered back. “I can’t concentrate on my work.”

Kevin sat at the opposite end of the table. “You’ve got it coming, Heather,” he said.

“Meaning what?” she demanded.

“You know.” But he refused to explain.

Heather told herself she really didn’t care at all. Let him say what he wanted. Truth was,
he
was the problem.

“Are we going back tonight?” Heather asked before supper.

“Maybe you and I will go together,” Mom said. “You know how Dad feels about skipping church on Wednesday nights.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She hadn’t even remembered. “How do you feel about being chosen?” Mom asked.

“Fine, if Joanne and Tommy would settle down about it.”

Mom nodded, turning to open the cupboard, reaching for five plates. “I think you should have a long talk with Kevin before you decide about modeling, though.”

“Why?”

“Kevin’s future is on the line if you become distracted with something other than skating.”

She’d gotten so caught up in her own interests, she hadn’t even thought of Kevin. Or how any of this would affect him. “Do I
have
to talk to him?”

“Kevin’s the other half of your ice-dancing partnership,” Mom said. “You’ll have to deal with him first.”

She took a deep breath, not looking forward to discussing things with her older brother. “I’ll be in my room,” she told Mom.

“Heather?” Mom called after her.

She turned to see Mom standing with her apron on, holding the dishes and the paper napkins. “Have you prayed about any of this?”

“Not really.”

“Well, honey, will you?” Mom’s last effort.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll pray.”

What could it hurt?

Photo Perfect

Chapter Sixteen

They want me
, she thought, standing at her bedroom window, looking out. She honestly believed that her plan to boycott eating, losing the few extra pounds, was the real reason she had been picked.

“I have the look,” she whispered to the sky.

The sun was setting over the mountains, casting a purplish glow over the snow-scattered lawn and trees. She leaned on the windowsill and wondered how things might’ve turned out if she hadn’t gone on the crash diet. Would she have been thin enough?

Mom wants me to pray
, she thought. Yet inside, she felt proud of her personal accomplishments. So what if Kevin didn’t approve. She could fit everything into her schedule. She knew she could.

What she really wanted to do was phone Livvy, tell her the good news. But she’d told her mother she was coming to her room to talk to God.

Standing in the window while the sun shed its daytime duties, giving in to the twilight, she began to pray. “Dear Lord, since you know me so well, I’m sure you must know how
really
excited I am right now. It’s so amazing to be chosen like this.”

She paused, recalling how her dad liked to hear of her achievements, about the events of her day. She continued praying, picturing her heavenly Father listening intently, his eyes on her, wanting to share in her happiness. “I want to be . . .” Stopping, she felt suddenly sad. “I guess I ought to say that I want to be like you, God. But the truth is, I want my own way. I’m stubborn. And Kevin made me so mad when he dropped me and said . . . he said I was too heavy. I know that’s not true. How could he say something so stupid?”

She sat down on the floor and cried. “I’m sorry, Lord. I had to do things my way. It was always about me . . . never about you.” She brushed the tears away. “Forgive me for being such a jerk to my brother. For . . . depriving myself of food, just because I was so angry, so determined. And so wrong.”

Her heart opened wide to God, and she stayed there in the stillness long after she had said “Amen.”

Kevin seemed surprised to see her when she went downstairs to the family room. Sure enough, he was lifting weights. Probably so he could lift
her
and feel strong and poised on the ice.

“I’ll be out of here in a minute,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay, take your time.” She switched on the treadmill, setting it on one of the slowest settings. She would wait him out. Talk to him when he was finished huffing and puffing and stopped perspiring all over the place.

“So . . . when do you start your modeling work?” he asked.

“I’m not.”

“But I thought—”

“When you’re finished working out, we’ll talk.” She continued walking at a snail’s pace on the treadmill.

Upstairs, something wonderful was simmering on the stove. The smells from the kitchen were wafting down, tantalizing her as she breathed steadily, not overdoing it.

“I’m finished now.” Kevin was standing in front of her. “So talk.”

She looked at her brother. Almost a mirror image of herself.
My dear brother and partner
, she thought.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I was stupid.”

“So was I,” he said.

“What?”

His face was serious, almost sad. “I think I started this whole mess, didn’t I . . . about you not eating?”

“Don’t blame yourself,” she said quickly.

“Well, I do.” He leaned his head against her forehead. “We have to work harder at considering each other’s feelings.”

“From now on,” she promised.

“Me too.”

“Race you upstairs?” she said, daring him. “Bet I can eat more supper than you,” Kevin teased.