Life Begins at Midnight

Grace

Monica saw her chance. Anna had pushed her bag into the locker and had locked it up. There would be no gym today anyways, because the Preliminary Shots were to be clicked in the gym. The crew had set up the cameras and the lighting and had arranged a variety of props. The girls were expected to do their own makeup and wear their own clothes, and these shots would only be to see their own flair and inclinations. These would be the deciding shots for most, so everybody had come there dolled up and were trying their hardest to look their best. Anna would be going in much after Monica was done with her preliminaries, as "Wrenner" would be alphabetically the last entry to be called.

Monica did well in her shots. With her natural beauty, she was bound to be one of the seven chosen girls. She knew it too. But she badly wanted to be picked by Ricky West, it would be a dream come true for her. She had to outperform everyone, because she knew that many girls had dreamt to landing the Ricky West gig themselves. It was true that she had more modelling experience than all of those others put together, but she didn't want to take any chances. So she'd given it her best shot, and was comfortable with the crew too, as she knew what to do to show off her best in those few photos. Then she'd come out smiling, triumphant, because she was sure that she'd have Ricky West's offer by the end of that evening.

One by one, the other girls had gone in, and had come out after their preliminaries. Finally, it was only Anna who remained, and she felt good that the crew would probably be tired by then. So when her name was called out, she got up and made her way to the gym doors. She knew that Monica would do something right away, especially since Anna was alone and there were no witnesses. Monica proved her right almost immediately.

She aimed and splat! It was impossible to miss aim at that range. The balloon landed right on Anna's left temple, splattering navy blue over the top left of her face. Soon, Monica's minions launched the colour-bombs on Anna, and three of them managed to hit her. Undeterred, Anna kept walking and went straight into the gym. Her white dress had a splatter of black on the right shoulder, a blooming turquoise stain on the left side, at the narrowest part of her waist. She had a royal blue splat on her right knee, complementing the blue on her face. Her bun was still intact, elegantly placed like a ballerina's. Covered in ink in strategic locations, Anna looked beautiful. She looked like she'd stepped out of an artwork, her lush body complimenting the richness of the colours she seemed to bleed in. The rest of her was still draped in the simple pristine white, with no other makeup to make her look artificial or presumptuous. She looked utterly recognisable and yet mystic.

The crew applauded her, and what started out as a smattering of claps soon resounded in the gym, and Coach Rodgers looked on appreciatively. One of the girls managing the props got her a pair of rainbow-coloured wings from somewhere, and Anna looked unforgettable. The photographer was so sure that she must have had years of experience at modelling, that he just told her "4 o'clock of the snoot". Incredibly, Anna understood. Not because she was an experienced model, but because she knew what he wanted. She had clicked enough photos herself to know what would look good.

She looked to the 4 o'clock position, imagining the main light, which was called the snoot, to be a clock facing her. So her eyes lit up and sparkled with the light falling exactly where it should. Anna was radiant. She was pure. Her very existence reminded them all of the reason why they were there... no, not for a preliminary shoot of skinny, plastic-faced girls. They were there to capture beauty, to make it stand still, to do what they did best. They were there to gauge the stuff these girls were made up of, and to reflect their spirit in the small number of frames they were allotted. Anna had suddenly made them remember their own reasons to love their work.

When they were done, each wanted to talk to her, to learn something new from her. No one seemed to remember that this was a high-school girl, who had clearly written down in her form that she had no modelling experience whatsoever. She was nice to everyone, thanking them for making her first stint at modelling such a memorable one. One of the shy prop-girls suddenly broke out of her shell of shyness and put in - "We must commend your striking get-up, Miss Wrenner." She said squeakily, and Anna had smiled, saying, "I must thank someone myself for it. Please, call me Anna." And that had won their hearts.

The photographer summed it all up, hoping that he would get to work with her again. "It was a pleasure working with you, Anna. I hope to see you again." And cards were lovingly pressed into her hands, and she accepted them graciously. Although she had nothing to give them in return, and knew, in her heart, that she would probably never meet them again.