Bliss smiled. The dance was tomorrow night. She could do that. Her parents would have to let her go - it was a school event, and there were bound to be tons of chaperones there to appease their anxiety. "Thanks."
"No problem," Schuyler said, running up the stairs without giving Bliss a backward glance.
Struck by the idea, Bliss scribbled a quick note and tore off the paper from her binder. She carefully removed all the broken bits on the side, spritzed it with her perfume, and stuffed it in Dylan's locker.
She was shocked at her brazenness. She had never needed to pursue a boy before. But there's always a first time for everything.
;
CHAPTER 13
The next day, the whole upper school was called into the chapel again, but for a less somber reason. It was a Career Talk. Even the unfortunate demise of one of their students couldn't change the rigid schedule of lectures that the school had planned for the year. Part of the Duchesne philosophy was to expose their students to a sampling of the many career opportunities and paths available to them. They'd had talks from a famous heart surgeon, the editor of a prestigious magazine, the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, a famous film director. Most of the adults who came to give the talks were Duchesne alumni, or Duchesne parents. Most of the students welcomed the hour-and-a-half break in their day, since it meant that they could snooze in the back pews, which was a lot more comfortable than nodding off in class.
"We have a special treat for you today," the Dean of Students announced. "Today we have Linda Farnsworth, from Farnsworth Models." A ripple of approval and excitement went through the assemblage.
Farnsworth Models was the biggest name in the cutthroat modeling industry. Their biannual Career Talk at Duchesne was just an excuse to find the newest batch of models lurking in the student body. An incongruous, but unimpeachable fact was that Duchesne was a breeding ground for modeling talent in the city. Students had gyrated their hips in music videos, walked the runways in Bryant Park, and had appeared in television commercials and print advertising. An inordinate number were featured in the J. Crew and Abercrombie & Fitch catalogs. The Duchesne type - tall, willowy, blond, aristocratic, and all-American, was more in demand than ever.
Linda Farnsworth was a short, squat woman with crinkly hair and a dowdy appearance. She wore half-moon glasses, and her voice quavered over the microphone as she explained the ins and outs of the modeling industry. She exhorted its virtues (Glamorous photo shoots! Travel to exotic places! Fun parties!), and in the same breath emphasized the very hard work that went into making the perfect photographs. There was a smattering of polite applause when she finished.
When the formal talk ended, Linda set up a casting call on the third-floor landing and invited any interested students to try out. Almost all of the girls and even a few of the boys waited in line to see if they would make the cut.
After a bunch of glum freshmen were ushered to the side, Mimi stepped forward. She had dressed especially well for the occasion, in a slim-fitting tailored C&C California T-shirt and low, hip-slung Paige jeans. She'd heard that models should dress as plainly as possible for auditions, a blank canvas on which advertisers and designers could easier project their visions. The night before, she'd left the Italian exhausted in his penthouse loft, she herself felt invigorated and cheerful.
"Walk up toward the end of the staircase and back, please," Linda instructed.
Linda clucked in approval as Mimi stomped up and down the hallway and pirouetted at the end of the stairs.
"You have the ideal proportions my dear, and a natural ability. A fabulous walk is what it's all about, you know. Tell me, are you interested in being a model?"
"Of course!" Mimi squealed, clapping her hands together, delighted she had been chosen. It was about time she joined the ranks of the professionally beautiful!
Bliss was next. She galloped up and down the hallway, swinging her arms. She still felt queasy thinking about the pound of hamburger she'd wolfed down the night before, even though eating it had made her feel better. She still thought it was strange that BobiAnne had seemed to take the whole incident in stride.
"Walk's a little rough, darling, but very teachable. Yes, we must have you at Farnsworth," Linda decided.
Mimi and Bliss hugged each other in joy. Bliss saw Dylan watching them from the corner of the great hall. She smiled tentatively at him. He saluted her in return. She hoped he hadn't noticed anything unusual about her when they were in the Met. Dr. Pat had explained that during Regenerative Memory Syndrome, part of her was in the present, but the part that was conscious had been in the past. The memory blackouts wouldn't last that long - maybe four, five minutes tops. It bothered her that the part that would remember whether they'd kissed or not had been absent for that crucial juncture. She didn't even know how to act around him - were they dating or what? Just friends? It was maddening not to know where she stood with a boy she liked. Okay, so there it was. She liked him. She liked him so much she was even starting to not care about what Mimi would think of the two of them getting together.
Bliss looked at Mimi a tad resentfully. Even if she owed her social life and current status to Mimi, she balked at having to answer to her for everything.
The bell for the next class rang, and a harried girl rushed past the modeling station without even glancing at the gathering. Schuyler had slept through the entire lecture, since she'd hardly gotten any sleep the night before.
Linda Farnsworth stopped her in her tracks breaking her reverie. "Hello! And who might you be?"
"Schuyler Van Alen?" Schuyler replied. Why did she do that? Why couldn't she be more confident? "I mean, I'm Schuyler," she said, frantically brushing her bangs away from her eyes.
"Are you interested in modeling?"
"Her - a model?" Mimi spat from the sidelines where she was filling out the Farnsworth client contract. She eyed Schuyler balefully.
"Shhh," Bliss said, embarrassed enough to elbow Mimi for once.
Schuyler overheard them. She looked down at what she was wearing torn black stockings with ladders in both knees (already rating her a dress code demerit), a loose-fitting floral granny-dress with a drop waist, chunky gray socks because she couldn't find her black ones, her duct-taped sneakers, and a pair of half-moon glasses. Plus, she hadn't washed her hair in weeks. It's not like she would even want to be a model, so Mimi had nothing to worry about. A secret part of her was desperately flattered, although she tried not to be overly vain about her looks.
"No, I don't think so," Schuyler replied, smiling apologetically.