Later that afternoon, Lola stood in the poorly lit hallway of a building in SoHo, wearing her pink Speedo and a Gap white linen sundress. She stared at a door labeled PACIFIC SUNWEAR. The next time she was on Ashton News, she’d be in a Prada evening gown, strutting down the runway in Bryant Park, Betsy Carmichael running commentary on Ashton Prep’s newest It girl (Days-of-the-week knickers have been selling out all over the city! The fashion world speaks: Stop flattening your hair! Dumbo ears are so IN!). The rag mags would finally have something to talk about other than her parents’ divorce (The Childs’ Child Following in Mum’s Footsteps!), and Kyle Lewis, her childhood friend turned crush, would finally forget she was ever just his clumsy mate “Sticks.”
She adjusted her cloth headband so that it held down the tops of her ears and entered the room, which smelled like a strange mixture of hair spray and baby oil. It was bustling with teenagers, all over the age of sixteen, and all looking like they had taken a break from surfing in Malibu to stop by the casting call. In the corner, a few girls examined themselves in Clinique compacts. Lola couldn’t have gotten her skin that brown if she’d spent the entire summer roasting on a beach in Spain. The boys were uniformly handsome, reminding Lola of the small army of Ken dolls she had when she was little. Hearing the door shut, they all turned in unison like a herd of beautifully tanned, blond deer. Their blue eyes stared at Lola.
She pulled at the straps of her Speedo one-piece, realizing it probably wasn’t exactly what Ayana had had in mind when she’d said “beachwear.” She shifted around in her sundress, trying to cover the bright pink straps. “I’m here for the Pacific Sunset casting?” she said in a small voice.
Everyone was completely silent. “No way—did she just say Pacific Sunset?” a girl with a sunburned nose asked. She patted it with powder as she let out a loud cackle.
A pretty bloke with wavy, bleach blond hair eyed Lola’s Speedo, which was still visible beneath her sundress, and her pale, freckled legs. He whispered to the bloke next to him. Then he turned to Lola. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
Lola blushed so much her ears turned red. Everyone there had tiny button noses and golden brown skin, the color of chocolate chip cookies that had been in the oven just a little too long. None of them had bumps on their noses, none of them had skin so white you could practically see through it, and none of them had to wear a cloth headband just to pin back their bloody ears. “Maybe I made a mistake…” Lola mumbled, feeling for the door behind her.
As she turned quickly to leave, she felt her dress catch on the doorknob. There was a horrid ripping sound, then laughter. She felt a cool breeze on her legs and looked over her shoulder to see a piece of white linen hanging down, revealing her Speedo wedgie. She squeezed out of the room and flew down the staircase, not stopping until she was out on the street in the warm September air.
TO: Lola Childs
FROM: Ayana Bennington
DATE: Tuesday, 6:36 p.m.
SUBJECT: Pacific Sunwear casting call?
ATTACHMENT: Gutter and Light
Hi Lola,
I just heard from the Pacific Sunwear reps, who told me you failed to show up to the casting today. If I take the time to set up an appointment for you, I’d like you to take the time to actually go. I’m disappointed you missed it.
Assuming you’re still interested in modeling, on Thursday I’d like you to meet with Gunther Gunta. He’s in town for a few weeks looking for a new face for his next campaign. It’s high fashion—but you’re definitely in line with Gunther’s aesthetic.
All the information is attached. It’s essential that you be there. Gunther is extremely agitated by no-shows.
All the best,
Ayana