Part 54

Journal Entry: September 17^th

I am a noodle, at least at the moment I feel like one. As you can see from the date, it’s Friday and there’s quite a bit to cover. First, the reason for my noodleness.

I’ve been going to see Amanda twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays. Well, Amanda made a little change to the Friday session by having me go to a massage therapist. The idea is to try to get me back to the point where I can stand people touching me by using something I really like.

Amanda wanted to try what Robbyn and I did to see if it would help, hence the reason for my noodleocity. Amanda was there and after I got all settled on the table, the masseuse came in. She was pretty young, about Ellen’s age I guess and she really knows her business.

I swear that she has radar in her fingertips to allow her to find all of my kinks and knots.

All the time she’s working on my back, Amanda is talking with me and helping me work through what’s going on.

I’m not sure if this is going to help or not, but even if it doesn’t, it’s still nice in a masochistic sort of way.

See, the one side of me really, really likes the massage, but there’s the other side that starts to gibber at the physical contact. We’re all hoping that the gibbering side ends up losing.

On to the next topic. I promised the last time that I’d fill you in on what happened with Brandon. I’m not sure if I’m quite ready to say just yet ’cause it’s kinda embarrassing, but suffice to say, we’re at least friends now. Maybe I’ll expand on it next time.

We’ve now come to the ‘High School Sucks’ portion of this entry. To be fair, not all of high school has earned the sucky award, just certain people and certain classes.

I believe I alluded to my French and Italian Poetry teacher claiming this award in my last entry, but she has been moved to Miss Runner-up and has been replaced by my substitute gym teacher.

I have yet to meet my regular gym teacher as she’s been busy taking care of some family emergency since the start of school. To cover for her until she can return is the gym teacher for the boy’s school. Everyone, this week’s winner of the ‘I suck so much I’m often confused with a black hole’ is Mr. Con Shafroth. Name sound familiar to anyone? He’s Moe Shafroth’s older brother and jerkiness is apparently hereditary.

So, Wednesday was our first real gym class and the school does this physical assessment test. Normally gym class is NOT supposed to be mixed boys and girls but with our teacher out, it was this time.

So with the need to combine the classes, we had to do the readiness assessment tests with the boys. To make matters worse, two more winners of the ‘sucky’ award were in the class: baby brother Moe and queen bee Lindsey.

In order to make this “fun” ol’ Con decided to make it a competition between two teams. The winner would get out of class fifteen minutes early and the losing team would have to run laps for the last fifteen minutes.

So, surprising absolutely no one, Moe is made captain for one team and a kid named Eric Price is made captain of the other. Moe is a large, strong, one eyebrowed Neanderthal and Eric is tall, pale, skinny and looks like he could use a good meal or twelve.

The end result is most of the athletic types, certainly all of the ‘jocks’, are on Moe’s team, along with Lindsey and her crowd and everyone else (including yours truly) is on Eric’s team. We were definitely at a disadvantage.

Surprisingly, we didn’t get beat quite as bad as you might have thought when first looking at us. And this is despite some questionable tactics used by the other team.

It looks like I’m probably the best of both groups and I’m not saying that with a swelled head, either. I tended to get through the test long before anyone else. Except for one other and what surprised me at first was why we had him on our team.

I’m talking about a boy named Justin Griffin. He’s a Junior and looks like the best athlete that the boy’s school has in my opinion. He’s not just strong, he’s quick and agile too. He and I had very close scores and if we’d had a few more like him, we would have won.

I was confused as to why he wasn’t on the other team, when Chelsea told me that according to the grapevine, Justin is gay. (Oh gasp!)

Having the gayness apparently is automatic pariah-dom or ness or inducing or some such stupid thing. From what Chelsea says, it’s all just rumor but I guess that’s enough to get you shunned, even by some of the not-so-popular kids.

Unbelievable, right? Guess who’s going to keep her little mouth shut? I am for now at least.

Behold the winning entry of the ‘sucky attitude of the year award’.

One of the things I’ve really noticed about high school, or at least this high school, is the group mind. What I mean is, even across social cliques, attitudes tend to cross, even in the most unlikely ways.

Take for example, Chelsea. I really like her; she’s funny and fun to be around. She’s kinda one of the outcasts due to her mom being the headmistress and being a tad socially awkward. Now I’ve noticed twice so far where she tended to accept the rumor version about someone without any evidence. The first was about our local Goth girl, Blair, and the second time was about Justin. When we talked about them and I brought up that all the rumors about them were just that, rumors, it was like, “Oh yeah, you’re right, I never thought of it that way.”

She isn’t alone in this and it has me a bit confused. It’s an interesting dynamic. Hmm, maybe I should take some psychology classes.

Okay, let’s move on to two big pieces of news. The first is PJ heard from Nike and they want to do a second commercial. I’m actually excited about this and that kinda surprises me.

The setting for this is going to bee…drum roll please…London. Yup, London, England–I can’t believe it. The downside is, this may be all shot on the back lot and not entail a trip to London. That part is still in the air. I hope they change their minds as a trip to London would be so totally cool. We have some time on this so it won’t be as rushed as the last one was.

The second bit of news was also brought by PJ. She wants me to go to a ‘go see’ tomorrow. Now a ‘go see’ is where a model goes to a designer or agency and does her dog and pony show to see if they want to use her. This is for a sports apparel designer who’s doing a show and there is also a chance that this could lead to a spread in Teen Fitness. Surprising myself again, I think I’d like that too.

Now none of that is certain as I still have to go and prance around in front of these people and see if they want me or not, so I’m not going to get my hopes up too much.

Let’s see, is that it? I think so. I need to wrap this up in any case so I can get my sparring in before dinner.

Oh yeah, I’m taking self-defense classes now. I know, crazy right? Well I’ll get into the whole 411 on the who, what, where and why next time ’cause I need to dash.

Later ’Gater

End Journal Entry

I shut down my Journal and am about to shut down my browser when I notice that I have a new email. Hoping that it’s from Robbyn and not from some ousted royalty wanting to give me their country’s wealth if I’d only send them my bank account information, I open my inbox.

Well, it’s not from Robbyn or some ousted royalty. Nope, it’s from Aunt Dee. Nervously I click it open.

To the sender of the attached email,

I’m not sure how you got my email address and normally I would have just deleted your email but I wanted to make a slight correction.

First though, I must commend you on your talent with Photoshop or whatever program you used to alter the photos you sent. Yes, I know they were altered. You see, I don’t have a niece named Alex. Good try though.

Oh crap, Dad hasn’t told her about the mistake and it never occurred to me. Crap, crap, crap.

I hit ‘Reply’ and then drag the copy of my birth certificate over to attach it. Pausing for a second to gather my thoughts, I begin to type.

Aunt Dee,

I’m sorry, I had assumed that Dad told you what happened. As you can see from the copy of my birth certificate that I attached, I really am a girl. A mistake was made when I was born.

See, the doctors gave Mom some medicine when she was carrying me that caused my privates to form wrongly and not look like normal girl parts, more like boy parts.

I can see how this must look totally whack to you, but just ask Dad, he’ll confirm it. From what I gather, you two still write to each other. The only thing I ask though is to be circumspect when you do. See, I filched your email address out of his address book. I’d like to correspond with you a bit before we reveal that to the folks.

The images I sent you really weren’t changed. I’ve included a link to a couple YouTube videos. One shows me doing some Parkour and the other is of my Nike commercial.

Please write back.

Your niece (I really am),

Alexandra Olivia Conners

With my fingers crossed, I press ‘Send’ and shut down my computer. I really hope I can convince her.

* * *

“I am soo sorry, Joe, I really am,” I say as I reach down and help him to his feet.

“Alex, it’s okay, really it is. I should know better than to hold the pad so close; it’s my fault not yours so don’t you dare blame yourself.”

Today’s workout has entailed Joe and five of his people setting up a gauntlet for me to go through. Each of them holds a large pad for me to strike. I don’t seem to have any trouble beating up a foam pad, it’s people I have a hard time hitting. Unless that is, I miss the pad and smack them in the head with my elbow. That’s what’s happened to Joe and it knocks him down and almost out.

Going through the gauntlet, I’m hitting at full speed and strength so when I spin and do an elbow strike–while Joe not only has the pad close into his body but too low–I end up connecting with the side of his head.

It’s all rather embarrassing, especially when the other guys congratulate me on not only the strike, but being able to knock Joe down.

“I still feel bad about it.”

“Alex, listen to me. I’m glad it happened.”

“Wha…?”

“Hear me out. We all know how you hold back in a sparring match. You’re getting better, especially after you and Brian talked, but you still do it. Now look at what you just did to me. If you find yourself in a bad situation, you now know that you can knock someone down to allow you to get away. I’m fine, at least it’s nothing that a bit of ice won’t fix. Hopefully this will help you overcome some of your reluctance.

“What I want to do with you is get your muscle memory to the point that you’ll react in a situation and not have to think about it too much.

“Now seeing how I still have little birdies tweeting around my head, I think we’re through for the day. Besides, I hear you have a big day tomorrow and we wouldn’t want you getting all bruised up. Now go and cool down and I’ll see you next week.”

“Okay, Joe, thank you.”

I say goodbye to Joe and the other guys and head upstairs to get into the shower.

* * *

When I’m done with my shower and go back into my room, Ellen is sitting on my bed.

“Hey, sis, I hear you knocked Joe out.”

“Hi, and I did not knock him out, I knocked him down.”

“That’s still rather impressive. I don’t think I could knock him down if I hit him with my car.”

“Well, I caught us both by surprise when it happened. I think that’s the only reason he went down.”

“Still, I’m impressed. You have everything ready for tomorrow? Know what you’re going to wear?”

“I think so. I talked with PJ and we agreed that my skinny jeans, heels, this belt and my black tank top would be good. I’ll be taking my large bag and in that I’m going to have a pair of shorts and my trainers, just in case. Under it all I’ll wear my nude Calvin Klein ‘G’ and this black bra.”

“Good choices. After dinner, you want me to help you with your nails?”

“Would you? That would be great, thanks Ellen.”

“It’ll be fun. We’ll get in our robes, slap on a mask, do each other’s nails and have a blast.”

“Right now though we need to get downstairs, I’m starving.”

When Ellen and I enter the kitchen, my heart drops when I smell what Mom is fixing.

“Mom, don’t tell me you’re fixing what I think you’re fixing.”

“Hey, honey, yup Fettuccini Alfredo, one of your favorites.”

“Oh, man, I can’t have that. I love your Alfredo too.”

“Why on earth can’t you? Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, I just can’t have carbs the day before I go to the ‘go see’, I’ll show up all puffy. I have to stick with protein and veggies. Oh jeeze, that smells wonderful too.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I wish I’d known. I haven’t added the chicken yet so you girls set the table and I’ll make a few changes to your plate.”

As Ellen and I are setting the table, I catch her smiling at me.

“What are you smiling at?”

“You.”

“What?”

“I just kinda think it’s neat that you’re taking your modeling and commercial work so seriously, especially since it wasn’t too long ago that you were fighting it.”

“Hmm, yeah I suppose I was fighting it in a way. A lot has changed though and I figure if I’m going to do this, then I’d better do my best. If that means giving up a night of Mom’s Fettuccini Alfredo, then I guess it’s worth it.”

“I wish my model had your attitude.”

“Your model? Since when did you get a model?”

“Since officially starting my senior project, that’s when. We’re paired with a model at the beginning of the term. The top students will get picked to go to fashion week and the top three designers from there will get picked to go to New York for Fashion Week. The model gets to go with the designer. It’s a real big deal and it gives a new model some great exposure.

“I hope to make it to the school’s fashion week; I don’t think I can make New York. Anyhow, I could wish for a model with a bit more drive or at least one I had better chemistry with.”

“Oh, Ellen, I’m sure you can make it all the way to New York. Your line is as good or better than anything you can find in any of your fashion magazines. I hope things work out for you with your model. It’s a shame that you two don’t get along too well.”

“I’m sure things will get better. I’m probably overreacting and we’ll click here soon.”

“I hope so, if there’s anything I can do, be sure to let me know.”

Giving me a hug, Ellen says, “Thanks, sis, I appreciate it.”

* * *

When Mom and I pull up to the address for the ‘go see’ the next morning, my stomach is in knots, my hands are sweaty and I’m feeling way out of my depth.

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to go in with you, honey?” asks Mom.

“At this point, Mom, I’m not even sure that I want to go in there. I can’t believe how nervous I am. Mom, I’m never this nervous.”

“You’ll be fine, honey. If you want, I’ll go in there with you or we can just go home and tell PJ that we changed our mind.”

“You mean that I chickened out. No, I’m going, I’m going. You stay here, I’m sure it won’t take them long to send me on my way. Wish me luck.”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed. Good luck, sweetheart.”

Taking a deep breath to try to settle myself, I open the door and get out. Squaring my shoulders, I head into the building.

After checking in at reception, I’m directed down the hall to a waiting area. I can immediately see why they’re using this larger room as a waiting room: all of the girls here wouldn’t fit out front. And there are a ton of girls here. Beautiful girls, fit beautiful girls who are all looking far more confident in themselves than I do in myself. They’re also all looking at me as I enter the room.

If ever Hollywood shoots a gladiator scene and wants to get how the expression of the gladiator is just before battle, all they have to do is take a picture of the expressions of all the women here.

Not really wanting to put my back to any of them, I make my way over to the far wall and find a seat. Just as I sit down, a door on the far end of the room opens and a guy with a clipboard steps into the room. Immediately everyone’s attention is on him.

“Listen up, the next five are: Joyce Kane, Vicky Eckles, Terri Flynn, Lisa Harden and Lisa Wilson. Please follow me.”

At that he turns and leaves the room, five girls hurrying after him.

Over the next hour and a half, almost two hours, that scene is repeated several more times. Just as I put away my phone from texting Mom that I’m still waiting, that guy comes out again and this time I hear my name being called.

I follow four other girls through the door, down a short hallway and into another room. The place is fairly large, with several full clothes racks and a table with four other people sitting at it on the other side of the room.

The guy with the clipboard turns to us right after we enter the room and says, “Showtime girls. You can place your bags down here. If you have your portfolio, leave it here for now, if they want to see it, they’ll ask you for it. If you have a comp card, get it out now and give it to me. When your name is called, you’ll walk down towards the table at the end like you’re on the runway, stop and pose, turn and come back here, stop and pose, then turn and walk back to the table and stop. Any questions? Good, first up is Connie, go girl.”

Connie is an extremely cute redhead with a rockin’ body. She’s wearing a short pleated grey skirt and a white tank top that shows her athletic midriff. Watching her hips as she walks you can easily imagine cymbals ringing out at each step. They’re almost hypnotic.

Connie makes it to the other end, comes back and poses again, then turns and heads back down. When she gets there, she’s nodding and shaking her head as she answers their questions.

The guy with the clipboard goes over to the rack of clothes and is pulling items out and Connie quickly strips out of her clothes down to her underwear–well her g-string as she’s not wearing a bra. She takes the clothes from Mr. Clipboard and quickly dons them. She does a slow turn then walks towards us, pauses and poses, then turns and goes back to the table. Once there, she moves into the yoga pose Anjaneyasana or low lunge. She holds it for a minute then releases the pose and quickly changes back into her clothes.

Oh man, I wonder if I’m going to have to change clothes too.

Before I can dwell on things too much, my name is called. Squaring my shoulders I pick a spot on the back wall to focus my attention on and walk down to the tables. It’s funny, I was all nervous and jittery just a couple of minutes ago but now I’m not. When I reach the table, I pause and pose, then turn and head back and repeat everything.

When I get back to the table, the lady on my right says, “Hello, Alexandra, my name is Margo and it’s my designs you’ll be wearing if you’re chosen.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh it’s not “ma’am”, it’s “Margo”, now have you done a fashion show before?”

“No, Margo, I haven’t.”

“Then why should we choose you to be in this show?”

“Because you have beautiful clothes and I can wear them well. Your style has always been functional for the athletic woman, ever since you were designing with ‘Street Corner Fashion’ that’s been the case. It’s outstanding that you’re out on your own now and given that I’m extremely athletic, I believe that I can show your designs to good advantage.” I send a silent prayer of thanks to Ellen for telling me about Margo and her line.

“Do you know yoga?”

“Yes, I’ve been doing yoga since I was about nine.”

“Okay then, why don’t you change into the set that Paul has and then walk down to the end, pose and return. When you get back, turn sideways and get into Natarajasana and hold it until I release you. Think you can do that?”

As I kick off my heels and unsnap my jeans, I reply, “Change, walk to the end and pose then return and turn sideways and get into the Lord of the Dance pose and hold it until you release me. Sure, no problem.”

I quickly slip into the yoga pants and seeing that the top has built in support, I take my bra off and slip on the top. All the while, I’m saying to myself, “Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.”

Once everything is adjusted correctly, I walk to the end of the room, pose and walk back then turn sideways to the table, bringing my left foot up and back, I grab it and as I continue to raise my thigh and lift the foot, I extend my right hand up and out. Once I’m fully in Nataraja I hold the pose.

After about thirty seconds, I hear Margo say, “Very good, you can release and change back. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I reply as I change back into my street clothes.

Paul calls the next girl as I head back to get my things. Paul walks with me and says, “They want to look at your portfolio. If you’ll give it to me and then wait in that room over there please. We’ll call you in just a minute.”

I hand him my portfolio and then go over to the door indicated. Inside is a small room with a few chairs and Connie talking on her cell phone. Figuring that if she can be on hers, I can make a quick call to Mom and let her know what’s happening.

About ten minutes later, Paul calls us both back in. There’s no sign of the other girls that came in with us.

We walk over to the table and when we get there Margo says, “Congratulations, you both made the first cut.” Turning to Connie she continues, “Nice seeing you again, Connie. You’ve got a few more things in your book I see. I don’t know how you do it on your schedule, or are you not teaching anymore?”

“Oh I’m still teaching my classes, but we got some more help so that frees me up a bit.”

“That’s good. I know your work and we’ve worked together well before so you can head on out. We’ll be in touch with the details soon.”

Connie grabs her portfolio and leaves and Margo turns to me.

“Alexandra, you have a very nice portfolio and I like your look and attitude. My concern is with your inexperience. If you’re hired for this, can I count on you to perform as expected?”

“Absolutely. If you tell me what you want, I’ll do it. If I can’t, I’ll tell you and tell you why as well.”

“Very well, we’ll keep you on the list for now. As you can see we still have a bunch of girls to interview. We’ll be in touch with your agent in the next day or so on whether or not you made the fine cut. Fair enough?”

“That sounds very fair. Thank you for the opportunity.”

With a last goodbye, I pick up my portfolio and leave the room just as another group of five enter.

Once I’m back at reception, I ask directions to the bathroom. I’m suddenly feeling a bit flushed and a tad nauseous. In the bathroom someone is already in the stall so I go to the sink and rinse my face with cold water. It helps, which is good as I really don’t want to throw up.

The cold water really is helping and I’m beginning to feel better. The stall door opens and Connie walks out adjusting her clothes.

Smiling at me she says, “Hey there, you okay? You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine, thanks. Something just came over me all of a sudden but I’m better now.”

“You new to all this? I was the same way when I started. I think it’s the adrenaline; suddenly it leaves your system and you end up feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck, at least that’s how it was with me.”

“Yeah, this was my first ‘go see’, so I guess you could say I’m new at this.” And I return her smile.

“Well, in there you had me fooled and I guess that’s where it counts. So, you doing this?”

“I’m not sure yet, they’ll call my agent in a day or so.”

As we leave the restroom, Connie says, “My guess is you’re in. You have the look that Margo likes and you move really well.”

“Thanks, I hope you’re right.”

“Me too. Well hopefully I’ll see you again. Bye.”

“See ya.”

Connie rushes off just as we get back to the reception area. Rounding the corner I hear a familiar voice: it’s Lindsey. I hear her telling the receptionist that she’s here for the ‘go see.’

Too late to stop, I forge on in the hopes that I can get out before she notices me. No such luck.

“You! What are you doing here?”

Lindsey is wearing a pattern skirt in peach and a light blue blouse with a floral pattern, her hair is curled and down around her face and she’s wearing a lot of makeup–all things that PJ has warned me about as being ‘no-nos’.

“Me? Oh probably the same thing you’re doing. Well, got to dash, see ya at school, Lindsey.”

With that I rush on out before she can reply.