"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Arlo asks again. It's not that I don't hear what he's asking. Instead, I don't know how to respond. Dating Arlo would end my modeling career, but so would cancer."Arlo, it's complicated. I want to be your girlfriend...I really do. But I literally just ended it with, Hunter yesterday. Can I have a few days to let what's happened between us sink in? I love you, Arlo. I just need time. Okay?" "Hey, that's fine. It's good enough for me."I need to be frank with Arlo. He needs me to speak freely and be myself. "Arlo, I need you to remember that I did sign a contract with Model Perfect. Unfortunately, Hunter is apart of that public image. If you don't mind me faking it for the public, then I think we could make this work behind closed doors."He pulls away from me still naked in my sheets. I almost forgot that he slept with me last night. "He harmed you, Emma. You can't let him get away with it. You just can't.""He gets away with whatever he likes. I'
I haven't seen or heard from Hunter since Halloween night. He didn't come to class, and Jeremiah Winters refuses to tell me anything. Even Rosa has kept her distance from me. Rosa and I are these back and forth friends lately. She's a game or yoyo I can't win. We are friends and then not. She used to worship the ground I walk upon. But getting into Jeremiah's pants has apparently made her change sides.She supposedly believed me when I accused Hunter of hitting me. But from her lack of talking to me, I can tell it was for show. Or she really doesn't know where her loyalties lie. For the Queen of gossip she really needs to get her facts straight.It's photography and English combo class today. I am nervous to see Arlo. I haven't seen him since our intense kiss. He's been missing from school too.Just then, Arlo walks into the classroom with his shoulders rolled back. He's wearing a black leather jacket and sits right beside me like he does every combo class. But today is different, now
What are best friends for? I often ask myself this when I see other girls in the hallways at school. I don't mean Rosa Higgins. She's the closest thing I will get to a real friend. But the truth of it is she and I aren't even close to being best friends. It took breaking up with Hunter to realize that. Rosa Higgins is an abstract concept that I have learned to admire. Her talons, claws, and speed alone have me cornered in a canyon-like a rabbit under the weight of a mighty eagle. If this is how friendship is supposed to be then I want no part in it. Our friendship is up and down, like quicksand or thin ice. As a fisherman walks onto the ice, he must check which ice is more stable so he doesn't drown in the icy water below. That's me, I extend my foot on the ice and if it's too thin I know not to trust Rosa Higgins. She knows Hunter hit me and she hardly did anything. Maybe she just decided to only listen to me that day. Maybe she didn't actually believe a word coming from my lips.
We are on this earth for a certain number of days. Our time could end at any second. Nothing in this world is guaranteed. Nothing is set in stone. There is nothing worse to me than not knowing how my thyroid will turn out. Which way will the pendulum swing? If it swings in my favor, the world could be fine and I could live to be one-hundred. However, if things turn sour and the raven knocks on my door like that old Edgar Allen Poe poem, then I could be dead in a few years or a few decades. Nobody knows how long they will be here. All we can do is keep trying and keep breathing. The rise and fall of our chests and the beating of our hearts mean we are still in this crazy race. Life is a crazy race and at some point, I will need to face the music with my head held high and Arlo by my side. He is the only comfort I have in the darkness. The only light I have in the darkest oblivion. The void of emptiness has found me in my dreams this night. He takes on the voice of Hunter and threats
Rosa knocks on the bathroom door. I know she will want to ask me why I have been in here for so long. My reflection stops me from opening the door. The lump in my neck has gotten larger. The pressure on my esophagus has increased in the last few weeks. The painful sting that I feel whenever I turn my head reminds me that I can't ignore this cancer for much longer. I need to make a decision quickly before Model Perfect, Freddie, or Arlo makes it for me. If Hunter found out he would use the knowledge to his advantage to gain something. If Tanya Pennington found out she would use it to crush my career or have me kicked out of the Winter Paris Collection Competition. The truth is I don't know what I wang anymore. With so much pressure being placed on me from all angles, I have decided to flee. Escaping my problems for a day is exactly what I need. I wish I didn't have to go to school anymore sometimes. School is a stressful place to be. There are phones everywhere and anyone can film me
The chattering from my bedroom can only mean one thing, Rosa and Freddie are still enjoying each other’s company. It’s always the least likely people that will fall in love. For Freddie, he comes with a tragic backstory that Rosa is unaware of. Freddie, being twenty-five, has a few years on Rosa and in those short years before they met, Freddie was previously married. His wife, Maria, died in a plane crash. Maria was a bit like Amelia Earhart, or so Freddie has mentioned to me in our private conversations. The truth of it is, Freddie has closed himself off from getting close to anyone. He doesn’t need to tell me this for me to notice. I have witnessed him at work with his hands closed and his arms crossed. The scowl of his brow and the clenching of his jaw. Those to me were the mannerisms of a man keeping people away. When I asked him if he was okay after a photo session one day, he broke down and told me I was the first model at Model Perfect to ever ask or care about him. From then
Arlo and I meet under the bleachers as planned. Instead of meeting after school, we meet in the middle of the night. He wants to show me something, whatever that means. In my humble opinion there is nothing great about bleachers. It is rumored that I was conceived under the bleachers at my mother’s university. I highly doubt it, knowing my mom she exaggerated that entire story just to make me cover my ears and embarrass me in front of my various peers. To my peers, I must sound like a spoiled rich snobby model with the perfect ideal life. Arlo hands me a magazine and there on the cover of the magazine is a picture of Hunter and me kissing. This picture was taken about a year ago. “When did this happen?” Arlo asks, the jealous lingering in the air next to his foggy exhale.“This was taken a year ago. The media likes to cycle through old pictures. When would I have the time to be with Hunter again? After Halloween did you really think, I would ever return to that asshat?” Arlo grabs
The Winter Paris Collection competition is around the corner, and I am not prepared for it at all. It is hard to model these days, my energy levels are haywire. I can hardly focus in class, I fell asleep in math class the other day. The doctor says it could be my thyroid hormone levels becoming fuzzier and harder to predict. His words weren’t exactly that, but that was the overlaying message. It’s scary to be out of control. It’s a hurricane that I am not ready for. It’s been weeks, and I still haven’t decided to fully commit to surgery. It would mean goodbye Model Perfect, and I am not sure I am ready to say goodbye to them just yet. Arlo is concerned for me and has even put pressure on me to consider my health over my career. It’s a balancing act and I don’t like which way to go. I feel like a tightrope walker, at any moment I could fall in the net below if a decision is not made for me. My life is a balancing act, that I am too exhausted to recover from. I fall in all directions,