Free Destiny Date by Melody James

forward.
    Purple Man appears at my side. ‘Of course you can, darling! You’ll be fabulous.’ He thrusts me past the curtain. I glimpse a runway through flashing lights. Applause thunders
round the hall.
    I’m on the catwalk!

 

    I stare in horror at the string of models strutting along the runway. One by one, they turn and head back.
    My heart lurches as they advance on me like a freakish doll army.
    Invasion of the Cindytrons.
    I swallow as, one by one, they file past and disappear behind the curtain.
    Suddenly I’m alone at the head of the runway. The applause thunders louder.
    ‘Go on!’ Purple Man hisses behind me. ‘You’re the star of the show.’ He shoves me and I stumble forward.
    I’m onstage again and this time I don’t even have a tambourine.
    Help me, please!
    My high heels feel like stilts and it’s all I can do to balance.
    What would Savannah say?
    I quickly remember her lecture on the carpet catwalk in my bedroom.
    You’re a supermodel not a tightrope walker. Hold your head up! And swing your arms!
    I throw back my shoulders and put one foot gingerly in front of the other. The crowd stands. Bulbs flash.
    I wish Sam were here. He’d find it funny.
    Imagining his warm, friendly smile gives me courage. I lift my chin and swing my arms.
    I’m the Gemmanator.
    I begin to get the hang of walking and start to move to the rhythm of the music. The crowd clap me along. Terror flips into excitement. This is great! I press back a grin as I reach the end of
the catwalk.
    I’m doing it! I’m a supermodel.
    I turn with a flourish and my heels rock beneath me.
    No!
    My heart jumps into my throat as the world suddenly reels. Gravity has hooked me. Panicking, I flap my arms. The momentum sends me backwards over the edge of the runway and, bum first, I fall
into the front-row seats.
    I land on something squashy.
    It squawks in my ear.
    It’s a woman.
    I struggle from her lap and scramble to my feet.
    ‘I’m so sorry!’
    The room hushes. The music stops. Cameras flash in the eerie silence. I spot Cindy, glaring from an aisle. She clearly recognizes me. And she doesn’t look happy about my new career choice.
I drag my gaze from hers and stare at the woman I’ve just bombed. I recognize her from the picture in the foyer.
    Anna De Vine.
    Mortification sets in, burning my cheeks, then engulfing the rest of me. ‘Sorry!’ It’s the only word I can say. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
    Anna De Vine is staring at me. Her strange, stretched face is stiff with shock.
    I wish I were back at home, lying on Ben’s bed, telling bedtime stories.
    I’m the Gemmanator
.
    What would Ben expect me to do?
    He’d want me to get up again.
    I’m invincible.
    I bend and unbuckle my deadly shoes. Slipping them off, I hook a finger through the ankle straps and I turn. Lifting my skirt, I clamber back onto the runway and face the audience. I flash them
a huge smile and drop a curtsey. The crowd erupts into cheers. Music explodes from the speakers and the room is thumping again. I turn on the balls of my feet and, swinging my hips, pad back up the
runway in bare feet.
    ‘Darling, darling!’ Purple Man rushes from behind the curtain. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me to him, firing squelchy air kisses at my ears. ‘Such
style
!’
    I peer over his shoulder and see Anna De Vine. She’s on her feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd. Fashionistas clamour round her, squawking like excited peacocks. She looks up and
catches my eye.
    Was that a wink?
    I grin and wink back.
    My gaze flicks to Cindy. She stands in the aisle, scowling like a jilted bride. It’s time to leave.
    Purple Man doesn’t notice me slide out of his embrace. He’s being swamped by models who are streaming from behind the curtain to hug their leader. I dodge past them and burst into
the dressing room. I’m relieved to see it’s empty. Everyone must be onstage.
    I reach for the zip of my dress. In two minutes I’ve slipped out of it and am