Stereo Love

Complete Pain In The...

Chapter 7 : Indi's POV

The neon Lycra really wasn't urging me to pick this girl. Nor was the particular style of dance. It was as though she'd memorised a celebrity workout DVD. I almost couldn't bring myself to watch as she went into a series of squats. I concentrated on the stage behind her, somewhere I could look without just laughing in the poor girl's face - she was clearly trying her best and I think that's what made it so sad.

The curtain twitched. Or did it? Perhaps the bright colours of her too-tight outfit were doing strange things to my eyes. No, there it went again. A tiny gap appeared at the side of the drapes, only visible from where I was. A hand appeared, waving in time to the music. I was about to get up and slink off to shock the prat hiding backstage but then a familiar a eye peered through the gap. It was bright turquoise and full of tears that I can guess must've been through the comedy of the girl's routine. It's gaze swivelled from watching 'Number 33' to me. The gap in the curtains grew slightly so I could see half of Oscar's face, creased up laughing. I shook my head amusedly and grinned back at him. He must've taken the shake not just as a jokey disapproving one, but also as one that said - shoo - because he disappeared from view again.

"Ok thanks, we'll get the results to you as soon as we can," said Tabs, smirking as the girl walked away. We rolled our eyes at each other. Everyone let out a laugh as Clark came out with, 

"Yeah, thanks but no thanks love!" A series of high fives went around the table.

"Next?" A girl walked from behind the screens in the hall to stand in front of Tabby, April, Clark the photographer from the art committee and myself.

I listened to April start the speech about how we were looking for someone who was photogenic, dramatic, suitable for the look we were going for with the shoot, and best compatible with whoever we chose as the male counterpart. I was too busy scanning the curtains for any sign of boyband to pay much attention.

* * *

To tell you the truth I was bored. Seriously bored. I'd heard this same load of spiel at least thirty times; given it myself more than a few. I'd seen guys and girls stand there, do a dance, sing a song (not sure what it has to do with modelling but some of the performances were definitely... 'dramatic'. All the while Clark's camera clicked rapidly, capturing the action in time so we could look and decide later.

The girl - Faye - stood there as each had done before, nodded at her friend who started a track on the sound system and begun to dance. This time however it wasn't break dance or disco or cheerleading style. This wasn't cheesy jazz hands or rhythmic gymnastics. It was beautiful - she floated and twirled, a feather through the sky. She leapt into the air and hung, suspended as though weightless before twisting to land on her toes. Her timing was perfect with the music and she had such an air of grace about her that she mesmerised me.

Her skin was naturally very pale, incandescent almost - none of this thick freaky white foundation that had become the stark contrast to the orange parade before it. She had mossy green eyes ringed with dark eyelashes. Her hair fell down her back in messy honey and syrup and treacle waves, flowing as if in a constant breeze. She was lithe and pretty and delicate like a rose. Just perfect.

I turned to Tabby, eyebrows raised and smiling, and she returned the gesture. This was the first person all day that we'd seen who hadn't just made us roll our eyes in sheer despair, or burst into silent giggles at their feeble attempts to look sexy (clearly reading something different to what everyone else did if that's what they though sexy looked like. It was pure cringe).

I turned back to look at Faye, the girl who'd actually managed to capture the panels imagination with her contemporary ballet. I stood up and clapped - as did everyone else.