I gaze at myself in the mirror. A pale, skinny, freckled figure with hip length ginger hair and chestnut brown eyes. This is not a bad appearance for my first day of college. Besides, it’s not like anyone will notice me anyways, I am a nobody. “Estelle, come eat your breakfast, it’s getting cold!” my mother yells from downstairs in her strong French accent. Some say her looks would have gained her a modelling career back in the day if she hadn’t chosen to become a bank associate instead. Although, her life choices are not what bothers me, what bothers me is if she was so beautiful, why am I not so good-looking? Where did the genes go? “ESTELLE!” my mother shouts again impatiently. “Coming!” I reply, my thoughts slowly drifting away. I apply some lip gloss and grab some muddy sneakers from my shoe rack. Gosh, what is it with mothers and yelling?”

I hastily chew on my porridge and guzzle down some orange juice, flicking through a Vogue magazine. My mother catches my eye and exclaims, “Goodness Estelle, you eat like a hyena!”. “Thanks, mum” I say sarcastically, forcing a smile. This makes her grin as well. As I glance at her, I realise she has become more wearier in the past few days. A small voice inside me tells me she has been thinking of Dad. It was supposed to be their 20^th anniversary last week, but he passed away last year, so they never had an opportunity to celebrate the occasion. I finish my porridge and pull my backpack over one shoulder. Mother squeezes me tight and waves goodbye as I drive my car of the front yard. As I reach the main road, I suddenly feel as if there is a huge concrete brick in my stomach. Am I really ready for this?

My car screeches to a halt and I climb out, backpack in one hand, phone in the other. I was never good at making friends. In primary school and through to high school, I used to hang out with my brother and some of his guy friends. I don’t have that advantage anymore, because my brother has already completed college and now has a certified job as a veterinarian. As I drag my sneakers across the wet concrete, my eyes examine other students. Some hold books, some carry handbags, some chatting to others, and some just like me. I target one person. A tall, brunette girl with a blue t-shirt, white shorts and eyes just like mine. I take a deep breath and build up my courage to go and speak to her. The same, small voice inside me urges me to speak. Here goes nothing. “Hi, my name is Estelle, wanna do you my friend?” the words scramble out of my mouth and I clench my fists in frustration. She looks up from her phone and replies, “Pardon?” clearly very confused with the gibberish I just sent down her earhole. “I was wondering whether you want to be friends with me?” I repeat, this time relieved that the words sound normal. She smiles. “Sure, Estelle, I’m Summer by the way”, she replies, as I watch the lovely pearl earrings dangling on her ears.

“I love your earrings by the way, Summer” I compliment her as we walk towards the main building. She grins for about the fifteenth time and then responds happily, “Thank you”. I wonder if her cheeks become sore from smiling so much. I pull my backpack over my shoulder again just as it begins to fall off. My back already aches, and it has barely been half an hour since I arrived. I gawp at the huge entrance of the building. It looks around hundreds or possibly thousands of years old. From on end to the other of the front of the building, there is a oversized flag that reads in bold: “Bristow University, one of the top ten modelling universities in America” I gulp, and the question arises again, “Am I really cut out for this?” I look down at my dirty sneakers and my skinny ankles. I listen for the voice inside me, but I hear nothing. Maybe this is a decision I have to make on my own. Summer grabs onto my left arm and tugs me softly. “Come on Estelle, let’s see where life takes us” she beams again, and I’ve lost count on how many times. I balance one leg on the first step, hesitate for one moment and leap onto the next step, then the next, and the next.

Before I know it, I am inside the University building and I am getting to know the dean of the University. She seems to be a very likeable person and her laugh is contagious. Her name is Lucy Hardwick and she appears to be a relative of Summer. They talk for a few minutes and I choose to be excluded from the conversation. While their endless discussion continues, I shuffle from my left to right foot, probably making me look very awkward. When the two finally finish speaking and we leave the room, I ask Summer how she knows Ms. Hardwick. “It may be hard to believe, but she is my Auntie” Summer answers. My jaw drops open and I say, “Doesn’t that mean you have an unfair benefit?” I ask, irritated. “Jeez, Estelle If she did give me an opportunity just because I was her nephew, she could get called off the job!” she exclaims. I nod and realise how foolish I am to even suppose that.

The day goes by very quickly and we get to meet last year’s students and where they are now. I have got to say, they look so glamourous and stylish and they are way more beautiful that I am. There are three girls. Lylah, Britney and Sky. Lylah is blonde with rosy cheeks and bright skin, Britney is brunette with tanned skin, and Sky has black, wavy hair and dark skin. To be honest, I feel slightly intimidated standing next to them. They show us the correct postures to use during a fashion show on the runway. Summer and I follow their instructions and occasionally look over at each other and squeal. This is it; this is my dream.

On the second day at Bristow University, things begin to get more serious Ms. Hardwick explains to all the students that at the end of the week, there will be 20 students chosen to get accelerated learning in modelling, students that are determined enough, will get the a place as one of the twenty students. I look around the room of hundreds of students. My eyes widen and I turn back to the front of the room. I need to work very hard to get this position, otherwise I will have no choice but to work at the local fish and chips store to get my earnings. After the dean has spoken, all the students rise from their seats. I tap Summer on the shoulder and question ”Do you think I’ll get the position?” I ask in uncertainty. “Anything you put your mind to, Goldilocks” she replies, smirking. I grin and we both step outside the building.

Sweat drips off my forehead on the third day at Bristow as Jane, the main assistant places me in my last outfit. It is a huge puffer jacket with black jeans, a leopard striped designer handbag and extremely high platform heels. She reminds me to use the techniques learnt the day before and to stay confident. With sweat dripping off almost every part of my body and very sore feet, I am not sure there is any reason to “stay confident”. Out of the blue, the door bursts open, and Ms. Hardwick comes in, her heels click-clacking on the wooden floors. She smiles and informs us she has left her phone somewhere in the room. Then she discovers it on a bench nearby and signals us to continue, leaving the room. Ms. Hardwick appearance in the room somehow gives me a sudden burst of energy and determination to keep going. I slowly gather my last bits of energy and catwalk my way to the front of the practice runway. Jane claps loudly and gives me two thumbs up. I am glad she enjoyed the performance because that is that last and final catwalk I will be doing for the rest of the day. I exhale deeply and slump down on a wooden chair.

According to Mr. Drew, my nutrition teacher in Bristow University, in order to gain a slim body, you need to eat healthy food. Should I bother advising him that I digest around 5-6 packets of potato chips, 4 packets of Ramen noodles and a full plate of microwave chicken nuggets per day and yet my body is still in its scrawny and bony shape? Nope, not until the end of the week because arguing with a teacher before then will just give me a less likely chance of getting a spot in accelerated learning. Mr. Drew notices my eyes are not on the board and he feels I am not paying attention. He points his thin finger at me, asking me to repeat his false information. My mouth opens to object his statement on how to gain a slim body when I immediately stop myself and I go over exactly what he has been explaining for the past hour, including the random uhs, and ums. He glares at me, eyes squinted, visibly annoyed I have outsmarted him on the fourth day at University. For a moment I think its over, I am never going to get a spot in the modelling agency. Then after a few moments, he says “Perfect, Estelle, other students watch out, she may be getting a position in the top 20!” he nods at me and continues teaching. My brain struggles to process what just occurred. A high pitch shriek circulating in my throat exits my mouth as a tiny squeak.

Whilst we eat dinner that night, I let my mother know all about today’s class, making sure I include every detail. I also tell her about Mr. Drew telling me in front of the whole class that I could possibly get a position in the top twenty students. She very nearly drops the plate she is holding. “You realise how important this is to you Estelle, getting in the top twenty will get you one, giant step closer to becoming a model!” she squeals in joy. While I help her clear the table, she gently puts a hand on my shoulder and grins at me. This time when I look back at her, I see her beautiful white, gleaming teeth and dimples. Probably the first time she’s smiled whilst showing her teeth since dad passed away. Thinking about dad instantly ruins my current mood and I remain quiet for the rest of the day.

This is it. Today is my last day to prove I am worthy of being chosen in the top twenty. It is also the same day they will announce the top twenty. I glance at my watch. I have 6 hours to prove my abilities of becoming a model. I let out a low sigh and start my car engine. I reach the car park and look around for Summer. I spot her in a red scarf and black leather jacket, sitting on a rusted metal bench not very far away. I step out of my car and rush over to her. She stands up and wraps her long arms around me, the cold, metal buttons on her jacket freezing my uncovered skin. My body shudders quickly as a result of this. Before walking our separate ways, Summer reminds me, “Estelle, If I get the top twenty and unfortunately you don’t, I will refuse to take the position” she says firmly. I laugh and reply “Its ok, Summer take opportunities before they slip out of your grip”. Summer giggles and waves goodbye as she disappears into the hallway to train with her assistant, Bridget. I turn and walk up the stairs, to my fitting room.

Jane is already upstairs, picking out some more outfits for me to try on. Except this time, there is a huge mirror situated on a desk decorated with small bulbs around the sides. On the desk is a open bulky bag full of high-quality makeup and cosmetic items. I gulp. Other than lip-gloss I have never applied any sort of makeup in my life. Before I can dash out of the room unnoticed, Jane realises I’m in the doorway and asks me kindly to sit on the chair in front of the mirror. I do as told and let her cover my face in powder and foundation and this weird gel like cream that honestly stinks badly of puke. After hours or maybe days, she exclaims “Voila” in a poor French accent. Not nearly as perfect as mother’s accent. But then again, I can’t blame Jane, its not like she spent the last five or so years in Paris like mother did. I look up at the mirror and see a totally different person. The strange freckles splattered all over of my face now can’t be seen even if I look closely. My eyelids are covered in blue and purple glitter and my pale lips are hidden behind some blood red lipstick which I believe suits me very well. Looking at myself now, I look like a popstar or a famous actress…or a model. Jane takes a step back, as if I am her canvas, and grins at her work. Perhaps I should apply makeup more often.

We all gather inside the crowded hall that afternoon until we are eventually told to take our seats. The seats are plastic and uncomfortable, not to mention the small, vertical holes in which my hair keeps getting caught in when I lean back. I try to distract myself by fiddling with a piece of half torn skin on my pinkie. Despite my efforts, my mind is racing with thoughts and my heart is in my throat. My breaths come out as short blows and I feel my temperature rising. This may not seem important to others, but this is my tightrope between hope and giving up. Summer notices my hands shaking vigorously and whispers, “Calm down Estelle, it’ll be fine even if you don’t get in” I stare at her in disbelief and respond, “You don’t understand, If I don’t get this, I will be hopeless. You heard what Ms. Hardwick said, students that are determined enough will get in, and this means the others are clearly not determined enough to continue modelling!” I tell her, raising my voice. She raises an eyebrow. I apologize and explain to her again, but this time, calmly. She nods and turns back to the front of her seat, without saying a single word. I am confused, but I shrug and face the front of the assembly room.

After a while, Ms. Hardwick walks to the front of the assembly, raising her arm for silence. The room quietens and she begins reading the paper. “Good evening all students, as you already may know, today twenty students will be chosen to be given accelerated learning in modelling”. She pauses and stares at us through her blue rimmed spectacles. I try not to make eye contact. She then continues, “The first student that has been chosen is…” she stops again for suspense. My heart races. “Lucy Chan!” she exclaims. Students clap and cheer for her as she stands at the front, a smile spreading from ear to ear. I breathe calmly. Still 19 to go. Ms Hardwick then continues reading, “Jay Silver, Isabella Johnson and Amelia Grayson!”. The three students walk up to the front, some almost in tears. Ms Hardwick reads more and more names, including Summer’s, and I loudly cheer for her, although inside, I feel sick. Then Ms Hardwick holds the paper behind her back. Tears well in my eyes. I blink quickly to stop them overflowing. All of a sudden, she clears her throat and begins talking again, “The twenty students standing here today deserve a huge round of applause for their determination throughout the week, although there is one particular student who has shown not only determination, but motivation, consistency, resilience and knowledge” I look up from my seat in confusion and so do others. “Estelle Moulin, please come to the front”. My eyes grow wide and I stumble to the front of the stage and position myself next to Summer, hardly able to believe what is happening. “Estelle has proven her skills in modelling as so her teachers have told me…” she nods at Jane and speaks again, “She will therefore get an opportunity to practice modelling with trained models Taylor Hill and Lily Aldridge”. Hot tears flow down my checks, this time happy tears. I wipe my nose with my sweater and without thinking, I squeeze Ms Hardwick so tight she jumps in surprise and laughs. My life has changed, for the better. 2 years from now, you will see me cat walking my way past paparazzi’s, proud of who I am, regardless of my body shape. I love myself and really, that’s all that matters, or at least for now.