ExtraOrdinary

25 | chance

25 | chance

The weeks pass quickly as I work with Bridget on the interview for the yearbook. We meet once a week after school in the library. We sit at one of the computers and Bridget asks questions. She types my answers on a document. She asks about the pressures of modeling, going into the darker side of the industry. And it's refreshing.

B! Mag interviews me quarterly, and each time, the questions revolve around my future: Will I continue modeling after high school? Do I have an interest in acting? Will LA become my future home and the jumping point for my future career?

Other times, they ask menial questions: my skin care routine and the products I use; the protein shakes I make; if I'm dating; my height and weight; what my "type" is.

But Bridget bypasses all of that. Instead, she asks about the weight loss and is it difficult to keep it off? Do I ever wish I could abandon the diet and workout regime? How does it affect my health? If the fame ever bothers me, if I want to pursue other things (like biology or physical therapy), what my top choice colleges are.

In the library, as we sit side-by-side, sometimes Bridget pulls up the yearbook application. Together, we edit some of the photos she's taken and insert them into the spotlight interview template. We debate on which photos look the best, and if another photo will look better.

And it feels like we've settled into a sort of casual friendship as October gives way to November.

Gina keeps to herself as the days turn chilly and the trees lose their leaves. She acts like I'm invisible, like I don't exist. Even though I sometimes overhear her friends gush about my latest shoot or giggle when I pass, Gina makes a single comment, if she comments at all, and the conversation switches over to a class they hate or the fall fashion trends.

I'm thankful Brimwell High is bigger than Bankington. Whenever one of my flirtations came to an end, it was impossible to avoid each other. We would have a class together or we'd be the only people in the hallway or in the rec room between classes. But at Brimwell, while complete avoidance is also impossible (and gossip follows Gina and I like moths to a flame), I never end up alone with her in an awkward encounter.

Rather, Gina pretends like I don't exist, and I keep to myself. And as autumn comes in full-swing, my stomach relaxes and the guilt of rejecting her liquifies and fades.

Bridget finishes her interview with me before Thanksgiving break starts. She shows the final product to me and announces that she'll send it into her teacher for edits and approval.

And then we depart for Thanksgiving break.

I spend the break splitting my time three ways: Mom has the week off and takes me shopping; Giovanni sets up winter-wear shoots so the local department stores can begin advertising; and my friends invite me to parties and general outings.

The Sunday before school starts again, I collapse on my bed with an exhausted sigh. I had just come back from hanging out with Florian and Sasha, and after the several days of endless social interaction, the only thing I want is to be alone.

I dig my phone out from my back pocket and log in to Instagram with Giovanni's information (we agreed not to sign me up for social media, as it would constantly be flooded with notifications). I scroll through the posts that have tagged his studio—candid shots of me at school or at the mall or at the bowling alley.

I pause at the photo of me and Bridget in the parking lot. My hands are tucked in my pockets, a broad smile on my face. She's blurry, perhaps caught mid-motion. But her bomber jacket and combat boots are undeniable. I smile despite myself.