Supermodel High

I stood at the steps to the entrance of Supermodel High School. I looked down at my pink mini dress, tights, pink pumps, and pink handbag. I wonder if i'm good enough for this school.

I heard all the girls at this school are extremely beautiful. I didn't really find myself supermodel material. I was just hear to learn how to be a supermodel, but I don't think i'm good enough to be a model.

I wasn't short but I wasn't tall, I wasn't fat but I wasn't curvy, I had brown frizzy hair, not brown natural straight hair, and my face wasn't ugly but it wasn't perfect. To look my best I had to straighten it three times and add some hair spray so it didn't frizz up in the middle of the day.

Letting out a sigh, I started up the steps. My heart raced, I was here on scholarship, while the other girls had actually payed to be here, because they had enough money. I was from North Dakota, but the poor side. I worked to help my mom support me and my three siblings, while these other girls didn't work a day in their lives.

I knew if I wanted to become a model and help get my family out of the old blue pale small house on the corner of Almond Street, that I had to step up my game and work really hard. Being stuck in a school with stuck up rich snobs was the last thing on my list of thing I wanted to do, but if it helped my family then i'll do it.

I pushed walked through the entrance and turned the corner. I stopped in front of a big mega screen that showed a map. I looked for the main office, when I found it I started walking in the direction it showed me. I was afraid to get lost but the main office was easy to point out. The outside was made of beautiful glittery stones, the entrance was made out of glace, cobble stones led up to the glass door, and flowers and stones of every kind were placed on the sides.

I let out a deep breath and pushed open the glass door. The inside was just as beautiful as the outside. Leather couches sat in the corner forming a waiting room, a glass coffee table sat in between the couches, fashion magazines sat on the coffee table along with a vase full of flowers, the walls were a fashionable dark purple, dimmed lights made the room look dramatic, a long desk took some of the room, two women sat behind the desk doing some paper work, an American flag was hung up, a trophy wall took up the north wall, it was full of trophies and pictures of old students, and another glass door  to the back.

I walked up to the desk and waited for the woman in front of me to finish what she was doing before I cleared my throat.

"Yes, how may I help you?" She asked me.

I set my bags down and spoke clearly," I have an interview, to be able to attend this school."

She nodded and studied my outfit. She frowned a little then smiled. I guess my outfit wasn't as fashionable then I thought. This interview was very important. If I pass the interview then I get a slip to tell me what Clique i am in and I just go off to the dorm and unpack, but if I fail the interview then I have to grab my bags and call my mom so she would pick me up and take me home. I couldn't risk going home, this was a once in a life time opportunity.

"Name please." The woman said to me.

"Brittney Torres." I replied.

She began typing on her computer. I began to feel nervous, if I failed I would never live it down. I would blame myself for the rest of my life. I would feel that, this was my only chance to get my family out of the ghetto, but I blew it and now they have to live there for the rest of their lives.

"Oh, Here you are, right through that door and to your left." The woman told me.

I thanked her and pulled open the glass door. I walked down the hallway and looked at all the engraved tags on each door. They were all neatly written in cursive. I turned the corner and stopped at a door that said Deans office. My heart pounded as I knocked on the door.