"Huh? I don't get it," I said.
"She chose to be a stay-at-home mom — which is fine, that's her choice, but that didn't give her the right to dismiss my decision to have a job and not stay home full-time. Later, when we found out that your dad wouldn't be able to transfer to work in Grand Rapids, that same lady made a comment about how my 'ambitions would impact you.'"
"What does that mean?"
"Like I was being selfish wanting this promotion, even if it wasn't a good thing for you to change schools, or for us to move away from your father. But I still thought your dad would find something and, to be truthful, I wasn't crazy about how some of those girls in your class back in Chicago were acting. You were lucky to go to such a nice school with privileged kids, but some of them were starting to act…do you know what I mean by 'entitled'? Like they expected things to be given to them because of who their parents were — that sort of thing. Some of those kids had attitudes, and I thought that maybe moving was the right thing to do."
"Okay, so what does this have to do with the contest?" I asked.
"Everyone — even my own mother — told me to stay where I was at work and play it safe. They said the new job might be over my head, and I could fail and then where would I be? I would have uprooted us for nothing. I knew I could fall flat on my face, but I went ahead and did it anyway. And part of the reason was that I didn't want you to grow up seeing me 'play it safe.' Your grandmother is great — she was a wonderful mom – but she didn't take chances, and that made me scared to. I didn't want you to grow up the same way."
"But it's different for me. If you failed, there wouldn't be a whole class of people to laugh at you when you came back," I said.
"No, instead I'd hear about it from my side of the family and the Albright side for the rest of my life," she said. "Risk is never easy, but you can't learn anything or grow if you don't try."
"I know, I get what you're saying, but I'm still scared to fail."
"Don't look at it that way then," she said. "Didn't one of your favorite models once say, 'There is no failure — you either win or learn'?"
"Yeah."
"Then there you go. If you want this, then don't let anyone stop you from getting experience. And if they're true friends, then they will support you."
I nodded. "Okay, I will tell my friends, but not the rest. I never knew you went through all of that when we moved here."
She nodded. "You're happy here, right? I mean, besides the being apart from Dad thing. You're okay here?"
She was biting her lip and twisting her hair. My mother actually seemed unsure of herself. I never saw that side of my mom — ever. I nodded.
"Yup, if we hadn't moved I wouldn't have met Peyton and Ashanti and the rest of the girls."
"Don't forget Vladi," she said, smiling.
I shrugged. "I don't talk to him much anymore. It's no big deal. It's just…whatever. We say hi and stuff, but that's it."
I could tell she wanted to ask more, but she knew it was better not to press it. So I got up to go to bed and then stopped.
"Mom?"
"Yeah?"
I gave her a hug. "Thanks."
I knew she was surprised, since we weren't big huggers in our family. "Oh, um, sure," she said, hugging back. "Now just don't forget me when you're famous."
"Right, I'll put you on the list."
"Ha, ha! Get to bed!"
Chapter Thirty
I decided to wait to tell anybody until Mom and I went over all the info Mrs. Myeski sent over. Mom told me the Ingénue people had some issues with the BVW TV people and decided the whole thing was going to be a webisode event online. I was relieved, because it sounded way less scary than being on TV in front of a lot of people.
She started reading me the paperwork. "It's just one weekend, and it's a group of girls who were selected from different rounds. You just get another chance at being the Michigan representative in the contest and getting scholarship money set aside for college," she said. "Okay, this doesn't say anything about any guaranteed modeling contracts or anything like that. It's just exposure and another chance to get back into the contest."
I bit my lip. Did I even want another chance at the competition? Sure, if I got further in the show then I had a shot at getting my name out there, but it was an awful lot of stress to put myself through. Was it worth it? Why did I want it after all? I was about to say I wanted to pass on it and see if we could argue that clause in the original paperwork, when I stopped myself. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go on, I was scared, but there was something that I found even scarier, and that was wondering, "What if?" for the rest of my life. If I didn't go to Detroit and compete, then I would always wonder what could have been and regretted missing my one big chance. Even if I wasn't sure about modeling anymore, I felt like I needed to prove that I wasn't scared of this. Besides, if my mom could move to another state with me, then I could get through a weekend of Ingénue stuff.
Mom started filling out the paperwork, and I went to my room to read fashion blogs and calm my nerves. I saw I had a message. It was from Vladi.
V.Yagudin: Hey — Hope you're doing okay. I heard you were hanging out with Steve's sister.
I could have written back right away, but instead I texted Kendall and asked her what she had said to Vladi. She wrote back that she told him we went shopping and how cool I was to hang out with.
I asked how he responded, and she said he told her I was sweet and one of those people who was nice to everyone.
Oh yeah, I sound like the girl every guy wants to date: "nice" and "sweet." I was sure that was why everyone liked Yasmin McCarty — her sweetness. Hah!
"He said he liked you because you were different from other girls, and then he said he was sick of fake, mean girls and mentioned my friend, Liv."
Oh, so maybe that did work in my favor. How did anyone figure boys out? I thought he'd go for the Livs of the world. I wrote back and asked if he mentioned Carey or Yasmin at all. She said those girls never came up, so she didn't know.
I wrote Vladi back, saying that Kendall was great and everything was good and asked how he was doing.
V.Yagudin: Pretty good. School's okay. We had a dance recently, and it wasn't much fun.
The dance with Carey? I asked why it wasn't fun. He asked if he could call me or if it was too late. I told him it was cool.
"Hey," he said when I answered. "You asked about the dance, and I — I just didn't like the group I went with. They seemed kind of stuck up and fake or something. It was just a weird vibe, if that makes sense."
"Yeah, I get it."
"I went with someone — not a girlfriend or anything like that, but she wasn't that nice to her friends. She reminded me of how you used to talk about Ericka — like she was supposed to be your friend, but she'd say stuff that you didn't know how to take. Kendall said something about them being 'frenemies' or something."
"Yeah, I guess that's the right word for it," I said. "It stinks not knowing where you stand with someone who is supposed to be your friend."
"It seemed like all those girls in that group were like that. You're not that way, though. I felt kind of dumb because I went along with my friends when they were saying you were way less mature than the high school girls, and then we hung out with these girls, and I was like, 'This is what mature girls act like?' No way. You are way more mature than they could ever dream of being. I'm sorry I ever…you know…went along with them. I just…I never meant to hurt your feelings, and I didn't agree with what they were saying. It was just easier to go along with the crowd or something."
I didn't say anything because I didn't know what to say. Sure, I was glad he was apologizing, but I didn't know if he was trying to say he wanted us to be friends or anything more. It wasn't that I was afraid to ask him myself; I just wanted him to get all his feelings out, because my emotions were all over the place. In my heart, I wanted to be the girl he liked, but I was also scared that if I was the one, he might break up with me a
gain because of his stupid friends.
"Um, do you think you could…or we could…you know, be friends again?" he asked.
"We can be friends. I was hurt the day you called me. That was the same day Ashanti and I got into a fight, too. It was the worst day ever, and then you called. I was all excited to hear from you, and then you started saying all the stuff about your friends saying I was too young and all."
"Oh man, I'm sorry. Are you two talking again?"
I told him she and I were fine and that everything was good with India, Peyton, and Devon, too.
"Don't take this wrong and this may sound weird, but I could never be a girl. Seriously, you guys — it's like one minute you're all cool with each other, and the next no one's talking to the other one. And then you go back to saying you're best friends. How does that even work?" he asked.
"Don't ask me," I said, and we both started laughing.
"So…do you have a boyfriend now?" he asked.
I wanted to be mysterious and say I was talking to a couple people, but that would make me as bad as those fake girls, so I said no, and asked if he was seeing anyone.
"No, but there's this girl I like."
Ugh, kick to the gut. No, no, nononononono. Why was he calling me then? Did he want girl advice? Oh wow. He was probably telling Kendall I was sweet because I was easy to talk to and thinking he could get guidance from me on how to talk to girls he actually liked. I was so dumb sometimes.
"Oh? Who?" Please, don't be Yasmin. Please, don't be Yasmin.
"Well, I never met anyone who was…Oh Landry, my dad just came in. I have to go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Wait, what? He hung up? Stupid fate! Was he putting it out there he still liked me, or was he about to ask me for advice on how to talk to a girl he actually did like, seeing as I was so "sweet and nice?" I wanted to text Ashanti for advice, but it was past my phone curfew, and I had to get to bed.
Chapter Thirty-One
I got a text from Vladi the next day, saying his parents grounded him from his phone because he got a C- on an algebra text, so he was allowed to tell me he why he couldn't send or get texts or anything, but that was it. Sure, I guess it made sense, but seriously, why did this have to happen as he was about to tell me how he was feeling? I guess I would have to put any thoughts of him out of my mind until after the whole Wild Card event was over. Meanwhile, I had let my friends know about the competition that weekend.
"Will it be on TV?" Devon asked as we were riding home on the bus.
"No, it's just a webisode thing on their site — under the Michigan section," I said.
"Oh, so like, no one will see it, then," Tori said.
That was what I was hoping for, but it didn't seem nice of her to put it that way. I just nodded in response.
"That's awesome, Landry," Peyton said.
"Will any of the models like Talisa or Rae Ellen be there?" Ashanti asked.
"They said two will be there, but I don't know who yet, because a couple states are doing a wild card thing."
"What if it's Talisa? Wouldn't you die?" India said.
"Or Jem," Ashanti said. "That would be amazing."
"Will you text us to let us know how it's going?" Devon asked.
"I can't contact anyone until the finale comes out. I have to hand over my phone when I get there 'cause they're worried about the results coming out before they upload it. They were super strict about it in the contract," I said.
"Weird, since it's not that big a deal," Ericka said.
I shrugged.
"Well, good luck, and let us know as soon as you can," Ashanti said. "Did you tell Vladi about the contest?"
"Wait? You and him are talking again?" Tori asked.
"We're talking, but no, I didn't say anything to him."
"Probably a good idea. You don't want him to ask you out just because he wants to say he's dating a model," Tori said.
Peyton raised her eyebrows. "Whatever, good luck, and text us when you can."
I got off the bus at my stop and went to start packing.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mom and I drove to Detroit, and we arrived at the hotel — it was huge with big columns and these two stone lions on either side of the entrance. It looked like something from a movie. She parked and started to get out of the car.
"I don't know if you should go in with me," I said. "There are going to be girls here who probably drove themselves. I might look stupid if I walk in with my mommy."
"I don't think they'd let someone your age check in without a parent or guardian. I promise I won't remind you to drink your milk or take your children's vitamin."
"Funny. Whatever."
It ended up that I had nothing to worry about, because when we walked in, the show's greeter ran over to us and assumed my mom was the contestant. At least my mom didn't get obnoxious and start laughing. Somebody handed my mom forms to fill out, and we took my suitcases up to my room. I was hoping the girl I roomed with would be one of those odd-looking model types where a person can't see how they would have a career in fashion, but a photographer with that certain artistic eye for star quality thinks they're great. That way I wouldn't feel so out of place. But when we got to the room, all I saw was a blue leopard suitcase and a million hair products lined up on the dresser.
Mom put my suitcase on the luggage rack and helped me turn the heating vent down, since the room was too warm.
"I should get going. They want you girls in the lobby for announcements."
My eyes started to water, and I realized that I would be on my own. "Just a sec," I said as I headed to the bathroom.
"Hon, do you think you have enough stomach meds?" she called through the door.
"Yeah, I just had to pee," I said, hoping she couldn't hear what a liar I was. Rae Ellen was my age when she went to another country to model by herself, and I couldn't handle two days away from mommy? I had to stop crying and I also had to get my mom to leave, because at least in the room I could calm down, but if I started crying in the lobby, I'd look stupid.
"I think I'm going to fix my makeup if you want to go," I said.
"I can wait," she said.
"It's fine. I wouldn't want you to miss out on…driving back while it's still light out."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" she asked. "I think I'm going to stay for the hair part in case they get any bright ideas about dying your hair. I'll stay in the background, and no one will even know I'm there."
Right, except for the fact she was an older clone of me, and she would have no other reason to be hanging around a salon if she wasn't getting her own hair done. Yeah, not obvious at all that she was checking on me.
I went to the salon with the other girls, while Mom hung back and waited in the lobby, mouthing, "Text me," as my way to alert her if the word "dye" came out of anyone's mouth.
"Landry Albright?" asked the guy behind the desk, whose name tag said, “Rylan.” I nodded and he said, "Okay, come on back, and we'll get you shampooed."
We went to the back room with the sinks, and he washed my hair. I hated leaning so far back, because I always felt so dizzy when I finally sat back up again. After Rylan rinsed my hair, I started to get up and then sat back down fast.
"I'm a little woozy," I said.
"No problem," he said. "It happens a lot. You're probably just nervous about the cameras."
I felt stupid, but he offered me a bottle of water, and I took a sip.
"Feel a little better?" he asked.
I nodded and got up. At least I didn't pass out. He asked if I wanted a magazine, and I nodded. I saw him go over to the table and prayed that he wouldn't pick up the children's magazine with the giraffe on the cover. He walked back over to me with an entertainment magazine and a hairstyle magazine.
Svetlana, the stylist, came over to me.
"Okay, so they want something young and fresh," she said. "That should be easy. Are you okay with losing some length?"
My stomach lurched.
"Um, can we just trim it? I like the way it is now. I just had it cut a couple weeks ago."
"It is cute, but it's already looking shaggy. This cut takes a lot to maintain, they want something sleek and modern."
I bit my lip.
"It'll be cute. I promise," she said.
Well, Svetlana was the expert, right?
"So maybe we take it…to the shoulders? Yes?"
I wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or me. Well, shoulder length wouldn't be too bad. I nodded.
"Are you going to keep the layers?" I asked. The layers were my favorite part of the cut. They gave my hair a little oomph.
"Not so much…maybe a little face frame."
"And my bangs?"
"Well, we'll cut first and then decide on what to do with your bangs."
She moved my chair away from the mirror. I stared at the tiny bits of hair falling down on the gown. It seemed like it wasn't too much hair she was taking off, so I started to relax. I began looking at my magazine. She moved my chair sideways and that's when I saw my reflection out of the corner of my eye. I had a bob — not a shoulder-length one either, but a short, just-to-the-chin bob. My mouth dropped open. She had my hair parted in the middle — which I never, ever did when I parted it. My hair — it didn't look like me at all. All my beautiful layers were gone — on the floor. This was a nightmare.
"Um…it's a lot shorter…"
"Yes, isn't it great? So much fresher. Now, I'll do a blow out."
I wanted to ask her about the face-framing layers and bangs, because it was so short my hair was almost all one length in the front, but she clicked on the world's loudest dryer and began rolling a round brush through my hair. I tried to speak up, but either she couldn't hear me over the dryer, or she didn't want to. I hated having someone else dry my hair with a round brush. They always pulled my head, and I walked out with an itchy, hurting scalp. She stopped drying my hair and handed me a smaller mirror to check out the back of my hair.
Best Friends...Forever? Page 17
