Catwalk

05. Baby, this is what you came for.

"I've to attend to some classes. Oh, and meet "the girls."" I'm talking between bites to a peanut butter toast, but I manage to make the quotes with my fingers anyway. Madeleine is rolling a joint, and I think that's the only reason why Cohen is in the garden eating breakfast with us.

I should scold him and I know, but it's the third time in less than two minutes that he's giving me that dirty face. That gesture that says "Don't you dare, you're not my mother." And our mother is a subject that we don't talk about. She left when we were kids. Dad always defends her but the truth is that we never interested her. She always loved my father, so she wanted to give in to the idea of having children just for him. But you know, an idea is not the same as a reality and she surrendered before to give us an opportunity.

"Did you tell your father? He may freak out if he knows you're going to do something more than traditional education. You know, I do not think this counts as extracurricular." My brother is the one who has the joint now, I know he's blowing smoke to my face completely on purpose.

"Anyway, it's bullshit. What the hell does a model need to learn? They do nothing but walk around with rags that nobody is really going to buy, didn't you learn how to walk years ago?" Before I even got time to send my brother to hell Mads is raising her hand in her way to say peace here. Or maybe she just wants Cohen to pass her the joint again.

"I'll talk to him, I mean, if it's not clear, I don't want either of you to get into this." My brother has that look of reproach again, as if I were using my father once more. He doesn't understand that no matter how hard I try, it's different between us than between them. They've so many things in common that as Cohen has grown, they've become more friends than father and son. Not with me, apparently nobody knows what to do with the only female figure left at home.

"Whatever, I've to be there in two hours, there's no time to tell him much more before he comes from his private classes." I sent him a message, I'm trying to be the daughter he deserves, so I haven't lied. I just wrote that I will be in some modeling stuff and that I will tell him everything in detail when I return, just as I promised.

***

Madeleine has driven me to the offices. In fact, I have no idea what to do once I cross the door, as always. She tells me that she's in a hurry today, she's going to do with Cohen some arrangements to something that my brother has been writing "We'll talk about it when you aren't about to conquer the fashion's word." She smiles at me, but I know her enough to see that one isn't one of her happy smiles.

This time it's Isabella who is waiting for me at the entrance. She isn't alone, there is a group of young and beautiful girls surrounding her. She doesn't seem happy, I begin to have the strange feeling that seeing me appear has been the cause "I'm sorry, Am I late?" She only lets out a snort that I don't quite understand before giving the coldest and most oppressive welcome speech I've had in my life.

"There is a ten minute break for coffee and breakfast, if I were you I would limit myself to fiber and no carbohydrates, it's going to be a couple of very hard months." I cross my arms since I've already had breakfast at home. I'm not too surprised when most of the girls limit themselves to pouring judt blacks coffees, with one exception. There is a girl giving delicate bites to a butter croissant. When our eyes meet, she lick her lips with a pleasent look. "Do they think that a curvy body is kept only with fiber? They've no fucking idea."

I can't help but look at his body with his eyes. She notices it and makes a couple of small poses before introducing herself. "I'm Camille, don't expect me to be funny just because I'm the fattest." I frown, I don't think she's fat at all, her body is really beautiful and balanced. "You look perfect. I'm Bowie, don't expect me to have no soul for being a ginger." Camille speaks with a soft French accent that makes her even more charming. Despite what she said, I don't think my sense of humor is up to par with hers. However, she laughs with force about my stupid joke. Her mouth is so open that I can see the remains of the croissant in there. Immediately I know that I'll get along with her.

It's Isabella who interrupts us again. She claps in a very annoying way until she has the attention of all the girls back at her. "Here you have your weekly schedule. This first week will be a test, we'll change the classes depending on what your sad minds need to strengthen. I wouldn't lie, not even half of you'll hold the rhythm to step on a catwalk or do a cover. But yes, who will achieve it will be the best prepared." Isabella pauses dramatically and looks at us one by one with a canine smile. I don't think I'm hallucinating. I know she takes her time when it's time to stare at me because the rest of the girls end up looking irremediably in my direction. "And take care of your backs, in this world everyone wants to reach the top and they keep knives, not aces in the sleeve." She walks in front of us to finally go to the classroom.

I just sat on one of the back benches. Camille is on my right, she smiles as if she had been waiting for this moment for days. "She's really a perra, isn't she?" The word in Spanish baffles me, although by the tone that the girl who is sitting right on my other side uses, I can understand that it is an insult.

"My name is Luciana, but you can call me Lux. And if you're wondering, yes have knives out there, but what would be the point if I explain where I keep them?" She has a raised eyebrow, something in her expression has the same fierceness that I find when I speak with Madeleine about something that really affects her. I smiled at her from the side. "I promise to be good." That's when the last girl in the bench talks, her hair is so blond that almost looks white. Her Russian doll look is reinforced even more by her strong eastern accent. "Be kind, it seems like that bitch is watching you." As if he had no interest in anything else, he then proceeds to measure with his fingers the width of his own wrists.

Isabella gives us a nasty look foto being talk in her class. The limit of her patience comes to an end when someone else opens the door.

An impressing girl enters the class. Her chocolate skin shines under the natural light that filters through the windows and her straight bangs frames her stare. She walks as if the world were her, even though Isabella is scolding her for being late. "It's her." the Russian doll speaks, apparently I am the only one who doesn't know who the girl is.

"At least I'm getting fashionable late." The girl's voice is harsh, the duel of glances with Isabella lasts for a few minutes, but finally our mentor doesn't say anything, let the girl sit down before continuing with the class.

I'm really lost, so I look at the girls with whom I share bench looking for someone to clarify the situation. "Lyona, you know the story better." Camille makes an introduction so that the Russian doll can tell me. "She's Njeri, she's currently the Miss Miami Teenager, but there was a scandal in the contest about you know "favors" They've named her as the new Naomi Campbell, and nobody discusses her because her father owns one of the most important haute couture brands on the planet." With her low and tired voice, Lyona makes a gesture with her hand as for another to continue. "On the basics, we're fucked here. We already know who owns that one percent chance to succeed." Lux ends the story and shrugs while I try to digest all this, without it being too obvious that I'm observing that Njeri.

"Maybe we still have a chance, you know, if we do it together." I don't know what I'm thinking, but whatever it may be, I've realized that I shouldn't make this journy alone.