Page 53 of Infinite

“I’m not one for modeling,” Hale answers, his voice quiet.

“I understand. It’s not every man’s dream. But, honestly, Becca missed her calling. She was a little stiff when we started, but that beauty. Oh, she slayed it, and the chemistry between you was something to behold.”

“Becks?” Trin says.

“Shhh,” I tell her. “They’re talking about me.”

“Who?”

“Hale and Tootles,” I explain.

“Tootles?”

“The photographer.”

“Oh. Well, what are they saying?” she presses.

“I’d tell you if you’d just let me eavesdrop like a real friend,” I hiss.

“Becca never wanted to model,” Hale tells Tootles. “She was really against it, even though I know she would have gone far.”

“Why?” Tootles asks.

“She just wanted something different, is all,” Hale says.

He keeps his voice easy, giving nothing away, even though he knows the truth.

“Well?” Trin says.

“Tootles was telling Hale I missed my calling as a model,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Hale told him I wasn’t interested.”

“But that’s not exactly true, is it?” Trin asks.

Like Hale, Trin knows what really made me run screaming from that business. “No,” I agree. I start to laugh, recalling events I haven’t thought about in years. “Remember when we used to practice posing?”

“After every America’s Next Top Model episode and sometimes even during,” Trin says, laughing. “You were always really good at keeping still and striking those poses that were so uncomfortable. They looked natural when you performed them.”

I laugh. “And you were always good at the action shots, sugar.”

“That’s because I’d get bored standing still. I remember doing jumping jacks and squats in between my so-called modeling.”

“Oh, stop,” I say. Trin is the cutest thing ever. She always was. We both worked so hard that summer, trying to get our bodies just right so we could convince our mothers to take us to an agent.

“You were going to be the next big thing,” Trin reminds me.

“No, we were,” I remindher.

“Or so we thought,” I add, quieting.

Our mothers were never close, despite the constant interaction between Trin and me. Miss Silvie was always tending to her children, her husband, or her garden, or raising money for people who desperately needed saving. Momma was always busy being seen at the right events with all the right people. She served on the board for several charities, but I recognized at a young age it was all about representing the family and looking good, not about helping others. That day, though, the one Trin and I spent preparing for, was my first real look at the life I was headed for.

We bought a white runner, the paper kind they used to cover the aisles during weddings. We had a runway show to put on and we couldn’t have a show without a runway. Trin and I had so much fun setting up the Christmas lights on either side, decorating the rows with flowers and bows, and keeping the boys away. Her brother Landon was nice enough to help us set up a curtain and her father helped us with all the things we couldn’t reach.

Our mommas weren’t allowed to see anything until show time. Miss Silvie clapped, “ooh’d” and “ahh’d” in all the right places. She didn’t make a fuss about us dirtying her sheets and she praised our creativity. She didn’t even seem to notice all the times Trin fell and how she had to drag most of the ill-fitting clothes behind her.

Momma didn’t notice Trin at all. She was so pleased with me. So happy. I’ve never seen her so proud. For the first time, I thought she was seeing me and my knack for becoming anything I put my mind to.

When our show wrapped and we finished tidying up, it was late. Momma rushed me to the car, fussing with my hair and excited to tell Daddy.

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