Free Poser by Alison Hughes

that?” All the other kids giggled. Clarissa glared at me.
    I think we had everything but the fake-crying. Honestly, spending time with Clarissa makes you sort of fondly wish you were with normal, relaxing people like Shay.
    Usually, kids who pull this kind of garbage don’t go far in modeling. Photographers won’t put up with it. I don’t know why it works for Clarissa. Maybe the photographers are afraid of her. I know I am.
    We started up again after the too-short break.
    Tony had us all stand in a semicircle. We were supposed to stare upward, “amazed and delighted,” and fake-laugh and fake-point at a sad little shriveled purple balloon they had hanging from a string.
    â€œFocus on the balloon, kids! Amazement! Astonishment! That’s it, that’s it!” Tony called as he shot photo after photo.
    Try it. Look up at your ceiling. Maybe there’s a light there, or a bit of fluff, or an old spider web. Fixate on it. Now try to pretend it’s something incredible, like maybe a spaceship or a flock of flamingos or...well, this is your thing—make something up. Now look amazed (your eyes should be open really wide; probably your mouth should be too) and point at the light/fluff/web. Feel kind of stupid? Yep, you’re normal.
    We all knew that in the catalog, we’d be pointing at something else. We just didn’t know what. But for the time being, we looked up at the balloon and grinned and pointed.
    Clarissa smiled brilliantly right into the camera.
    â€œSuck in your guts, people,” she said between clenched, perfect teeth. “I don’t model with fat kids.”
    * * *
    Macy took one look at my face when she picked me up, sighed and asked, “Clarissa act up again?”
    â€œI’m never, ever modeling with her again, ever ,” I told Macy, flinging my bag into the backseat. I threw it hard. Like my stupid life was that bag’s fault.
    â€œI know, I know,” Macy said soothingly. “She’s temperamental. But you know, BB, Clarissa’s got something. Maybe it’s those huge eyes...I don’t know what it is, but she’s magic on camera.”
    â€œI don’t care!” I yelled. “I don’t care about her eyes! I don’t care about her magic! She’s a freak! And I’m never, EVER modeling with her again.”
    Macy shrugged and left it there. Every once in a while, she has a bit of tact.
    I thought I’d won.
    Until I saw the entry on the calendar for the next Saturday: S.H.F. shoot W/C.A. & C.J. For those of you who haven’t secretly researched and memorized Macy’s abbreviations, I’ll translate: Shiny, Happy Family shoot with Chad Adams and Clarissa Jamieson.
    Now, I knew Macy had been working for years to get me into Shiny, Happy Family . It was a big magazine.
    I knew it would be big money.
    And I knew that somehow, some way, I wasn’t going to be there.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    HEY, SPORTS FANS: HOCKEY UPDATE!
    So it’s the first hockey practice after school today (he says casually, like the seasoned jock that he is). No big deal, right? Probably not for normal people, but I’m totally nervous and also wildly excited. It’s all still hush-hush with Mom and Macy. They’d see all the problems with it, and I just don’t need the hassle right now.
    Good old Frey came to school with a stick and a huge hockey bag filled with equipment.
    â€œSome gear for ya, Spin,” he announced, dumping it on the floor next to my locker. “Me and Dad found a bunch of stuff that should sort of fit you. You even got matching gloves in there.”
    I was touched. I had always liked Mr. Frey, a big, shambling high-school shop teacher. But today, with a bag of hockey equipment at my feet, I loved the man.
    I never knew a bag of hockey equipment weighed so much. I felt like a big hero just lifting it. (Okay, I secretly dragged it down the two long hallways leading into the arena, but I