Model Perfect

"Emma, why do you always look so fat," Hunter asks while handing me another bikini to try on?I head back into the changing room. The bathing suit I am wearing is the only one I like. It's light blue with palm leaves blanketed throughout its pattern. My hands touch the silky palm leaf fabric and stretch the elastic band near my waistline. Surely, Hunter can't mean this looks bad on me? Can he? I must have heard him wrong. He used to tell me how pretty I was on all of our dates. Pretty is a word that Hunter used to describe all the females in his life. All the ones he thinks are hot anyways. Two years ago, I was 'pretty' to him. Now I am this plump someone. I can't help that my thyroid has gone in another direction. Hunter is the least to give a shit about my thyroid and its toll on my emotions, weight, depression, and the like. To Hunter, I'm now the 'fat girl' he tells me what to wear and how to dress. It's not his most positive character trait, I can assure you. I watch Hunter im

Rosa Higgins squeals her way into my bedroom window. She's been sneaking into my bedroom window for as long as I can remember. Her parents are abusive, and she needed a place to crash for safety. My parents found out about her sneaking into my room, and now they don't care if or when she comes over. "What are you so happy about? It's a dumb party," I say, recalling Hunter being a dick to that Arlo guy. I wonder if I'll see Arlo so I can apologize. "Why are you so depressed? I thought you were excited to make love on the beach." "We made something on the beach alright. And I can assure you it wasn't love." Rosa sits down on my bed and hands me a lollipop. She's convinced lollipops are a sex symbol. Her funny quirky is to suck them while Jeremiah is watching us. She can be quite the little tease when she wants to be. "A lollipop? Seriously? Did you buy these to suck around Jeremiah tonight? Good grief, woman." "Yeah, so what? He needs to see my tongue in action." Rosa points to h

The rest of the day is blurry. The fog in my head gets thicker like clouds about to cry. So what is it about Arlo that has distracted my thoughts for most of the day?Arlo finds me in the hallway. He hands me a small piece of torn paper with the numbers 765-3459 written on it. He's given me his cell phone number. "Don't look all surprised. It's for the project. No more parties remember? See you on Wednesday, model girl." "It's Emma," I shout. Rosa comes walking up to me with a face that looks like I'm on fire. "What was that? Who is that loser?" Rosa asks with her head tilted and lips out? "That's Arlo. He is my party for the big English assignment. And he's not a loser. I don't think." I put the note sneakily into my purse. The last thing Rosa needs to know is that I am attracted to Arlo and that I have his cell phone. Apart of me wants to text him later, but it would mean trouble if I did. Is Arlo a secret bad boy? For some reason, that fantasy makes him even hotter. My face st

It's Friday and that means another weekend is almost here. Weekend are when we live. The teenage years come to life on the weekend. The responsibilities of school and homework are left behind in the classroom. The hallways are crammed full of everyone pretending to be something they're not, with me the Queen B pretending to be above it all. But the thing is I have never been above any of them. I hate that think that I am, I'm not. If I was average I wouldn't have my life spoken for me. My life wouldn't be planned. Rosa and me could have a sleep over in tents in the backyard and we could do each other's nails. This weekend, like most of them is filled with Model Perfect photoshoots and parties. After awhile, it feels like my days are on repeat. School, party, photoshoot, rinse and repeat. Not that there's anything wrong with a routine. "Miss Rhodes, you're needed in the principal's office, immediately." A voice from the low speakers says. The onlookers judge me, but I still smile bec

Arlo takes me home. I am still wearing his clothes, his sweat pants are the most comfortable items of clothing I have been offered to wear in a really long time. Even though they are huge on me, I don't bother taking them off. My silver halter is in a plastic trash bag that Arlo hands me. It still smells like spiked lemonade. Model Perfect will take the damages out of my paycheck for the way Tanya treated this garment. He parks his car in my driveway. I don't want to leave. I want to stay in this moment with Arlo forever. Arlo's fingers are laced around mine, and even though I am technically Hunter's girlfriend I stopped dating him in my head ages ago. It's hard to be with the boy who calls me fat and thinks I am nothing but worthless meat. Hunter's anger gets the better of him, and I am too timid, shy, and scared to tell him off. Arlo isn't like that. I can be me, and be safe. Being with Arlo would be easier than being with Hunter, as far as a real relationship goes. But I am not th