Free Paint Me Beautiful by C. M. Stunich Page B

which makes for a very awkward moment near the front door.
    “ I know what you think you saw,” I begin, but Emmett just steps forward until our toes are touching and leans in close to my ear. His breathe tickles and teases, drawing me to my toes, making my eyelids flutter. For a moment there, I pray that he's going to kiss me. He doesn't.
    “ It's okay, Claire,” is all he says and then he turns around and grabs the doorknob in one hand. “I can't wait for paddle boating.” I cross my arms over my stomach and stand there in silence. “See you around, Simone.” And then he disappears, and I can't shake this weird feeling that somehow, he understands me.

 

    Day three of my fast arrives and I start it off bypurchasing a new scale. The one in my bathroom is broken; I know it is. It says I've only lost two pounds since last week. I don't even understand how that's possible, so I go out and use my credit card to get a new one. My dad is not going to be happy to see that I've spent nearly two hundred dollars on a bathroom scale, but this one can tell me not only my weight but also my body fat percentage and BMI. Plus, it wirelessly syncs all my stats with my computer, so I can track my progress with graphs, charts, spreadsheets. It makes me feel like I'm in control, and I like that.
    Unfortunately, the old scale was right on the money. I have only lost two pounds. I frown down at the three digit number above my toes and wonder how low I can get it to go. I step off with a sigh, refill my water bottle from the bathroom faucet and head back into my bedroom to get ready. I'm going to be stretched thin trying to hit all three appointments on time today, so I need to be prepared for anything. I take a large purse with me and pack an extra outfit and some tennis shoes in case I need to book it. It's pretty hard to run down the sidewalk in three inch heels. I put my portfolio in and make sure I have plenty of comp cards which are like business cards for models. They feature the very best of my portfolio all printed together on one small sheet.
    Once I've got all my essentials together, I decide on a pair of white Burberry skinny jeans and a white cami. I want to look clean and fresh. A model is a designer's canvas, and I want to make sure that I'm the perfect medium. I slick my hair back into a high ponytail and put on some foundation and a dash of clear gloss. A lot of girls think they need to wear their best makeup into a casting call. In reality, that's the easiest way to appear amateurish. Most often, they won't even look at you.
    I slip some Jimmy Choos onto my feet and check myself in the mirror one last time before replacing the sheet and heading out the door. As soon as the cool air hits my skin, I start to shake violently and end up having to go back upstairs for a coat. I pick something fashionable, just in case anybody important sees me wearing it, and end up with an Ellie Tahari trench on my shoulders.
    Once I get seated in the car, I drag my finger down the screen of my MP3 player until I find Amy Winehouse, press a kiss to her sweet, sweet face, and let myself drown in the sultry tones of You Know I'm No Good.
    My stomach is in knots, but it's not from hunger. Already, those pains have faded away. I'm guessing that the longer I go without eating, the less I'll feel like I have to. I make myself a note to go buy some vitamins, just in case. I want to be skinny, but I don't want my skin to dry out or my hair to go limp. After all, skinny is only part of the battle. If I look like an anorexic mess, nobody's going to want to hire me.
    I pause and turn up my music, so that I can feel Amy's voice vibrating through the seat and soothing the flutter of panic I've just felt in my chest.
    Anorexia.
    It's the first time that word's ever come to my mind, and I don't like it. I'm not anorexic; I'm just making a conscious decision to meet a goal, that's all. I push the thought away and start to mouth the lyrics, trying to calm