She hadn’t been so nervous since Ben Carter asked her to be his girlfriend last fall. She looked at the piece of paper on her desk one final time. She had bulleted out all her points and memorized them, like she had for her history report last year. Technically she was supposed to be helping Emma pick out centerpieces, but there was no reason she couldn’t bring up her modeling career while comparing peonies and roses. She would start by telling Emma how modeling was her destiny. If Emma said she was too young, she’d remind her that she herself had been thirteen when she shot her first Calvin Klein ad. If she said Andie was too petite, she’d argue that Kate Moss was five-foot six—short for a model! If she said the business was tough, she’d tell her her skin was thicker than a vintage Yves Saint Laurent alligator purse. She’d leave out the fact that she’d submitted photos of herself with her contact information to the Ford website and that they hadn’t called back. They probably never checked the site anyway.
