Free Destiny Date by Melody James Page A

scrambling back into my school uniform. As I hook on my ballet shoes, I hear voices from the catwalk.
    I escape into the corridor, so pleased to see the chipped tiles and dirty lino I could kiss them. I don’t. Instead, I charge back towards the red-carpet hallway and run for the foyer,
taking the stairs three at a time.
    As I screech to a halt beside the reception desk, I spot Cindy.
    She marches from the show hall, her face thunderous. ‘What on earth were you doing?’
    I smile, shrugging modestly. ‘I was modelling.’ I’m too happy to apologize. I’ve just swapped winks with Anna De Vine.
    The woman behind the reception desk leans forward. ‘Is everything OK?’
    I smile at her. ‘Everything’s wonderful.’ I head for the front door.
    Cindy storms after me. ‘You were meant to be
note-taking
!’ she hisses.
    I try and work out why she’s so angry.
    She explains helpfully. ‘You humiliated me, you humiliated Green Park High and you humiliated yourself.’
    ‘No one knew who I was.’ I stroll past the rows of cars, enjoying the sunshine. I can see Mr Harris’s elbow poking out of his car window. ‘They thought I was a model
called Radical.’
    Cindy screeches to a halt. ‘
Radical?
’ She’s clearly heard the name before. She starts pointing at me with a jabbing finger. ‘How can
you
be
Radical?’
    ‘That’s what I thought,’ I tell her breezily. Nothing is going to bring me down from the cloud I’m floating on. I just walked a catwalk, fell off it and climbed back on.
If there were an Olympic medal for Cool, I’d be holding gold. ‘I tried to tell them I wasn’t Radical, but they just kept putting make-up on me and curling my hair.’
    Cindy’s eyes bulge. Her mouth gapes. Eventually, she finds words. ‘
Your
hair doesn’t
need
curling.’
    It’s a lame shot and it sails past me. I wave to Mr Harris. ‘Mr Harris! We’re finished.’ Ignoring Cindy, I walk to the car and climb in the back.
    Mr Harris turns in his seat and stares at me. ‘Gosh.’
    Cindy tugs open the passenger door and thumps down into her seat. ‘Gemma decided to hijack the show,’ she snorts.
    ‘I thought you were just reviewing it,’ Mr Harris ventures.
    Cindy crosses her arms. ‘So did
I.
Clearly, Gemma had
other
plans.’ Her words are so pointed you could use them for kebabs.
    ‘I didn’t
plan
anything!’ I hurl back at her. ‘It just happened.’
    ‘Yeah, right.’
    Mr Harris obviously senses tension and decides to make a move. He starts the engine. ‘You were quicker than I expected.’ He backs out of his parking space. ‘Did you get any
good pictures?’
    ‘Oh, yes.’ I hear a sudden smirk in Cindy’s voice. ‘I got
plenty.
’
    That sounds ominous.
    Mr Harris pushes on bravely. ‘Did you manage to get an interview with a designer?’
    Cindy’s head snaps round and she shoots me with freeze-beams. ‘Did
you,
Gemma? You seemed to be pretty friendly with Reuben.’
    ‘Who’s Reuben?’ I ask.
    ‘The
designer
?’ Cindy rolls her eyes, exasperated. ‘The man in the purple shirt who was hugging you.’
    Mr Harris twitches nervously behind the wheel. ‘There was a man hugging you?’
    ‘It was the end of the show,’ I explain. ‘Everyone on the catwalk was hugging.’
    ‘You were
on
the catwalk?’ Mr Harris’s steering slips and the car jerks a little.
    ‘Mr Harris,’ Cindy says sternly. ‘Please concentrate on your driving. Gemma hijacked the fashion show, that’s all. It’s nothing important.’
    Mr Harris fixes his gaze on the road. ‘It sounds like it’ll make a good story for the webzine,’ he ventures. ‘Will you be writing it, Gemma?’
    I don’t get the chance to answer.
    ‘No, Mr Harris,’ Cindy growls. ‘
I’m
the fashion reporter. So
I’ll
be writing the story. I’ll be sure to mention Gemma’s
triumph.
’
    I don’t like her tone.
    For the rest of the journey, Cindy is wordless in the passenger seat. She’s not even texting. Mr Harris drives quietly