Lola studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror and frowned. She pulled on the teal cloth headband she’d bought at Duane Reade after her disastrous reunion with Kyle. Two years had transformed him into the most adorable guy she’d ever seen, but she was still his mate Sticks. She still had big ears and a bump in the middle of her nose. And she still couldn’t last ten minutes without spilling soda on her jumper or stepping in a steaming pile of dog poo.
She adjusted the headband so it concealed the tips of her ears. From now on, things would be different. She would be different. No more tripping over things. And absolutely no more Dumbo ears.
Andie peeked into the bathroom. She was wearing plaid pajama pants that looked three sizes too big. “I just need to wash my face,” she said, sidling up next to the sink.
“About today,” Lola started. Before leaving her at homeroom, Andie had drawn a map on the back of her schedule so Lola would know where all her classes were. “Thanks for helping me.” Her stomach hurt just thinking about her debut on Ashton News.
“No problem.” Andie eyed Lola’s hair and the Duane Reade bag crumpled up by the sink. “What’s with the headband?”
“I just thought…” Lola watched as Andie leaned over and lathered up her face. She hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. But even if Andie did have an intimidatingly perfect wardrobe, gorgeous never-frizzy hair, and a button nose, she wasn’t going to make fun of Lola in front of the entire school. “I thought that maybe it would hide my ears.”
“What’s wrong with your ears?” Andie asked, splashing her face with water. She already knew the answer to that question, but after today she figured Lola could use a little self-esteem boost.
Lola chewed her lower lip. “Well, they’re big. And…well, there’s this bloke Kyle, who I grew up with in London. We’ve been talking online all summer and he lives in Tribeca now.”
Andie patted her face with a checkered towel, her lips curling into a smile. “Let me guess: You like him?”
Lola blushed so much her big ears turned red. Kyle was one of the cutest guys she’d ever seen, and he was nice. And funny and smart and all-around wonderful. “It doesn’t matter,” Lola mumbled. “He’d never fancy me.”
“But you’ve been talking to him online all summer, right?” Andie asked, walking back into her room. Lola nodded. Andie plopped down on her bed and pulled a bright red throw pillow into her arms. “That’s a good start. Now you just need to get out of the friend zone,” she said matter-of-factly.
“But how?” Lola asked, walking to the door.
“You just stop being his friend and lay on the girl.” Andie twirled her ponytail around her finger as she said “girl.” Lola was still standing tentatively in the doorway. “You can come in, you know.”
Lola glanced around the room, which had one bright red wall. Almost every surface—the chaise lounge, the bed, the desk chair—was decorated with brightly colored Moroccan pillows. It felt like an exotic palace, minus the belly dancers.
Above Andie’s head was a massive collage. In the center hung a black-and-white photo of a woman holding a baby. Ticket stubs to Wicked and Rent were sandwiched between a cartoon of a Siamese cat doing yoga and a glossy pullout of David and Victoria Beckham, modeling their signature DVB line. Beside it was a Chloé ad featuring a model covered in leather handbags, as though an avalanche of accessories had tumbled down on her. Andie’s smiling face was pasted on the body. It looked like she had no neck. Lola giggled.
Andie followed Lola’s gaze and quickly stood up on the bed. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” She pulled the ad from the collage and tucked it into the drawer in her nightstand.
“I’m sorry, it’s just—why did you do that?” Lola squeezed the ends of her frizzy hair and tried to stop smiling.
“It’s really not funny.” Andie knew Lola didn’t mean anything by it, but she was careful who she told about modeling. She didn’t want Cate to know she was actually serious about it—not until there was something to prove it was real.
“I’m so sorry,” Lola repeated, pressing her hands into her freckled cheeks. She looked from the collage to Andie’s nightstand, which had more fashion magazines than a nail salon—and what looked like a printout of the FordModels.com home page. Understanding washed over her face. “Do you want to model?”
Andie bit her cuticle. “I know, it’s totally dumb. I’m four-foot eleven. But Nurse Paul said I’m due for a growth spurt this year—and I’ve been drinking a lot of milk.”
“No, no,” Lola protested, gazing at Andie’s round, flawless face. “I don’t think it’s dumb at all. You’re prettier than most of those girls in Teen Vogue.” Lola meant it.
“Thanks,” Andie said, lying back on her bed. “I tried to talk to your mom about it, but she had to go to a tasting at the boathouse and she’s not back yet. I really wanted her to take me to Fashion Week—I would honestly lick Cate’s feet if I could be in the same room as Kate Moss,” she said wistfully.
“Ew! You don’t need to do that.” She clapped her hands together in front of her face, small and fast. “Let’s just sneak in! I’ve been to the shows before—it can’t be that hard.”
Andie’s eyes widened. Lola. She’d thought Emma would help her, and that Stella was the next best thing. But Lola was a Childs too. Andie had totally overlooked her—in more ways than one.
Andie grinned, picturing herself sitting front row, watching as Bar Refaeli strutted down the runway in a Cynthia Rowley couture gown. “Yes!” she cried, pulling Lola into a tight hug.
She’d rub shoulders with Anna Wintour and smile at Heidi Klum. She’d absorb fashion and exude modeling vibes. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get…discovered.