Model Behaviour

Dismal Days (19) and IMPORTANT A/N

*|IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE|*

Please excuse the long author's note, but I have explaining to do..

•My summer has just begun (It's currently 23/7/14) Schools in Britain are weird like that, because we have short but often occurring holidays.

•This chapter will 100% suck because wattpad was being an asswhore, and the THREE chapters I was going to publish before I go COMPLETELY missing for six or seven weeks, were deleted.

•It was not a case of me not saving them, but when I tried to open it through the mobile app it said it deleted it on the wattpad server.

•I'm going to an army/scout/cadet camp where there's no wifi, no service and tragically: no flushing toilets.

•The rest of my summer holidays are spent with my grandma (yay!) but at the ripe old age of 81, she does not have wifi, a good tv or any sort of Internet. (NO!!)

•So sorry in advance for not updating anything for six weeks or more, so if you have this book in your library- add it in your archive.

•I'm staring year 10 (freshman year for the USA, I think) when I come back in September, and for the Brits that are reading this: You guys probably know that's when you start your GCSE's subjects. If not then year 9, but if not then don't be alarmed, my school is weirdly messed up. And that's stressful.

BUT I LOVE YOU GUYS AND BEFORE I START WRITING THE ACTUAL CHAPTER, I LOVE YOU GUYS!

THANKS FOR 1.3k!!! LOVE YA GUYSxx HAPPY SUMMER!!

Dominika over and out for a long time.

.~*~.

The rest of the night I spend in bed, either crying, watching chick flicks or stretching. I haven't spoken a word to my parents yet, and the nearest fashion week is in 4 days.

See?

My life is screwed.

And Sophie is staying in my head, with no means to come out soon.

"Honey?" Mom knocks on the door.

"Mmnth." I moan in my pillow.

The door opens and my mother comes in with a mug full of something.

"Why are you so upset?" She rubs my back.

If only you knew, mother.

"I am the cause of a 6 year old's eating disorder!" I wail.

She seems taken aback, and that's good.

"Oh honey..." She hugs me, with false sympathy.

"Which country I am going to go first?" I ask her, beyond the point of caring.

"London. You aren't doing New York, though." She sighs

"Okay."

"Okay, well, get polish up on your Italian, you are going to Milan after London"

"Okay."

"Stop saying okay when you are not, Gracie, I'm sorry I dragged you into this life. But being a model isn't all bad..." She sighs.

"Whatever, mom." I pause the film I was currently watching and stare into her brown eyes.
She was a model before she was a designer, with blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and freckles peppered on her face like cinnamon on my latte.
She was really beautiful, when I googled her once she still had her modelling wannabes.
No wonder why my dad fell in love with her, everyone did.