Supermodel

Marian Hoefnagel

Description

Fictionalized accounts of true life stories

Sujets

• Issue
• Real life
• Liste de termes d'argot Internet
• Issues

Informations

• Publié par: Read Zone
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783228591
• Langue: English

Extrait

SUPERMODEL
ReadZone Books Limited









© copyright in the text Marian Hoefnagel 2008
© copyright in this edition ReadZone Books 2019

Originally published in the Netherlands as Topmodel
© 2007 Uitgeverij Eenvoudig Communiceren, Amsterdam

Translation by Laura Dashwood

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data (CIP) is available for this title.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of ReadZone Books Limited.

ISBN 978-1-78322-859-1

Printed in Malta by Melita Press

Visit our website: www.readzonebooks.com
MARIAN HOEFNAGEL
SUPERMODEL
Afraid of the scale
In the department store

‘What do you think of this one?’ Kiia asks. She stares in the mirror at the reflection of the tartan cap she’s wearing. ‘Mum?’ Kiia asks again. ‘What do you think?’
She tucks a lock of blonde hair under the cap. She turns around, surprised that her mother isn’t answering.

A woman looks at her, smiling. She’s also holding a tartan cap. ‘Your mum went to the restaurant,’ she says, and points. ‘To look at the pies.’
Now Kiia is really surprised. ‘To look at pies?’ she asks.
‘Yes,’ the woman says. ‘Your mum told you she was going to buy a steak and ale pie. She fancied something savoury.’

‘Oh,’ says Kiia. ‘I didn’t hear her.’
‘No, I can tell,’ the woman laughs. ‘But, for what it’s worth, I think that cap looks good on you.’
‘Does it?’ asks Kiia. She turns back to the mirror. ‘You don’t think it’s too old-fashioned?’
‘No,’ the woman says. ‘It’s not old-fashioned at all. You’ve got a very classic face. That cap suits it well.’

Kiia is still looking in the mirror. ‘A classic face?’ she mumbles.
‘Yes,’ says the woman. ‘Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. I run a modelling agency. I see hundreds of girls every year, maybe even thousands. They’re all very pretty, each and every one. But they almost never have a face like yours. You could be a Greek goddess.’

Kiia turns around. A Greek goddess?
Wow!
‘Here,’ says the woman. ‘This is my card. If you’re looking for holiday work, come and see me.’

No pies

Kiia stares at the card for a while. Allbright Modelling Agency, it says. Underneath there’s a name: Johanna Evans. That must be the woman’s name. ‘Are you...?’ she begins. She stops. The woman has gone. Kiia’s mother is standing in front of her, without a pie.

‘They don’t sell steak and ale pies here any more,’ her mother grumbles. ‘You always used to be able to buy them from here. They were delicious, especially in the winter. Now they only sell modern stuff.’
‘What sort of modern stuff?’ Kiia asks. ‘Curries and sushi and stuff,’ her mother says.
‘That’s not modern food,’ Kiia argues. ‘It’s just not British.’
‘Well, it’s not steak and ale pie,’ says her mother.
‘Maybe that’s for the best,’ says Kiia. ‘Those greasy pies aren’t very healthy.’

She links arms with her mum. ‘Come on. ‘Let’s go and get a cup of tea somewhere.’
Her mother nods. ‘Hmm, yes, with a slice of...’
Kiia interrupts her. ‘No, no cake, Mum,’ she says, sternly. ‘That’s just as bad as those pies are. We’ll have a healthy salad. That’s much better for us.’ Kiia smiles at her mum.
Her mother laughs. ‘It’s like you’re my mother.’ They walk out of the shop together.

Beeeeeeeep, they hear. Beeeeeeeep. Immediately, a man approaches them, a security guard in uniform. ‘Please come with me, ladies,’ he says to them.

Shoplifting

Kiia and her mother look at each other in horror.
‘Oh no,’ Kiia groans. ‘I’m still wearing that cap. We went to walk out of the shop. Now they’ll think we’re shoplifters!’
Kiia’s mother laughs. ‘Of course they won’t,’ she says. ‘We’ll just give the cap back. No big deal.’ She nods at Kiia encouragingly.

‘It looks good on you, by the way,’ she says happily. ‘We ought to just buy it, then everyone will be happy. Right?’ She smiles at the security guy.

But it’s not that simple. The man shakes his head. ‘I have to notify the police.
‘That’s the rules. Every criminal says that they didn’t mean to steal anything. That it was an accident. But all those accidents would cost us a lot of money. Millions of pounds every year.’

The security guard takes Kiia and her mother to a little room. There they have to sit and wait for the police.

‘Millions of pounds a year?’ Kiia’s mother says. ‘You must get an awful lot of shoplifters in here.’
‘There are a lot of them about,’ the security guard nods. ‘Most people steal small things. You don’t often see someone walking out with a telly or a washing machine.’
Kiia feels horrible, but she laughs anyway. She can only imagine what that would look like.

‘Most of the shoplifters are women, too,’ the man continues. ‘Women and girls. They steal expensive make-up. A lipstick or a mascara.’
He nods at Kiia and her mother. ‘Or a hat,’ he says.

Fine

It takes half an hour for the police to arrive. The security guard is quite friendly, though. He tells them all sorts of things about his job. He gets Kiia and her mother a cup of tea. It’s not an enjoyable thirty minutes. Kiia and her mother shift uncomfortably in their chairs.

Luckily the policeman is nice. He understands that Kiia didn’t mean to steal the cap. Unfortunately, he has a job to do. Kiia will have to pay a fine.
‘Do you have any ID on you?’ he asks her. ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Kiia says, looking at her mother.

The policeman asks for Kiia’s details. Name, date of birth. He looks at her, surprised. ‘Are you really only fourteen years old?’ he asks.
Kiia nods. Her mother nods as well. Yes, really.

‘You look a lot older than that,’ the policeman says. ‘I thought you were eighteen or something.’
Again, Kiia and her mother nod. They’re used to hearing that. Everyone always thinks Kiia is a lot older than she is. It’s because she’s so tall: 5 foot 9.

‘As you’re still a minor, your mother will need to sign this as well,’ the policeman says. He puts the form down in front of her and points. ‘This is where you sign,’ he says. ‘And that’s where your mum signs.’

‘How much will the fine be?’ Kiia’s mother asks, signing the form.
‘One hundred and fifty pounds,’ the policeman says. ‘But because your daughter’s a minor, I’ll cut it down to a hundred.’
Kiia sighs. Of course, that’s very nice of the policeman. But a hundred pounds... How is she ever going to get such a large sum of money?

No fun

Disappointed, Kiia and her mother trudge through the shopping centre. The day started out so well. They had been planning their Christmas shopping trip for ages. Now they don’t feel in the mood any more.
‘Shall we just go home?’ Kiia asks. ‘Everything I look at makes me think of that fine. Those boots are the same price as my fine. With a hundred pounds I could have bought four of those cute tops. That coat is ten pounds more than my fine. It’s not much fun.’

‘Yes,’ agrees Kiia’s mum. ‘You’re right.
We’ll catch the bus home. They turn around at the same time. And... find themselves standing right in front of the woman from the modelling agency.
‘Hey, hello,’ the woman says to Kiia. ‘I see you didn’t buy that hat after all?’
Kiia shakes her head. ‘No,’ she says. ‘I sort of stole it by mistake.’
The woman laughs. ‘Really?’ she asks. ‘Yeah,’ says Kiia sadly. ‘I was chatting to my mum. I just walked out with the cap still on my head. I’d totally forgotten about it and we set off the security alarm.’
‘And?’ the woman asks.
‘The police came and gave me a hundred pound fine,’ Kiia sighs. ‘Even though I didn’t mean to do it.’

‘Oh dear, that’s rough going,’ the woman says. ‘But remember what I said. If you want to earn some money in the holidays, come and see me. I’ll be in my office all day tomorrow.’
She nods and smiles at Kiia and her mother.
Then she walks away.

Model

‘What was that woman talking about?’ Kiia’s mother asks. They’re sitting on the bus, panting.
The bus was already at the stop when they arrived at the station. Kiia’s mother wanted to catch the next one but Kiia had grabbed her hand and started running. ‘Come on, mum, it’s good for your cardio,’ she’d shouted. They had just managed to get on the bus.

‘Which woman?’ Kiia asks.
‘The one we ran into,’ Kiia’s mother says. ‘She said something about holiday work.’
‘Oh, that one,’ Kiia says, absentmindedly.
She’s thinking about the fine again.
‘What was she talking about?’ her mother asks.

Kiia pulls the card out of her pocket. ‘She thinks I have a classic face. She thinks I could be a model.’
Kiia’s mother looks at her daughter in surprise. ‘A classic face?’ she mumbles.
She reads the card.

‘That modelling agency isn’t very far from our house,’ says her mother. ‘You could go there tomorrow if you wanted to. It might be fun.’
‘No I don’t think so,’ Kiia says. ‘I always look terrible in photographs. Dad insists on taking hundreds every time we go on holiday. But there’s never a good one of me. Never.’
Kiia’s mother is still looking at the card. ‘Your dad’s not a photographer. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He hasn’t got the patience to take good pictures. I’m sure it would be very different with a professional.’

Kiia shrugs. ‘I don’t really fancy it,’ she says. ‘You could earn lots of money as a model,’ her mother says. ‘You’d earn those hundred pounds for your fine in an hour.’
Kiia looks at her mother with big eyes. ‘Yeah, if you’re Claudia Schiffer,’ she says. ‘Not if you’re Kiia Yarvin.’

Fancy

In the end, Kiia decides to go the next day anyway. She thought about it for a long time last night in bed. She’s still not sure that she likes the idea of standing in front of a camera.
But maybe her mother’s right.