Shaped and Molded

March 11, 2010
By Gabrielle11 BRONZE, Bryant, Arkansas
Gabrielle11 BRONZE, Bryant, Arkansas
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Lying on feathers of fluff, gentle, gangly hands ruffling through my thick, bouncy, dark curls. With each movement instant flashes go off. Fake snow blows all around me by high-powered fans. Goosebumps rise as my, practically, bare skin is revealed to the world.

The rush of people, I haven’t a clue of which they are, pound powders of all colors onto my tight face. Blues of the rainbow bringing out my muddy, puppy dog eyes. Strange people stripping me down as if I’m a doll. Starring at myself in a surrounding mirror, I think, “Who’s that? Not Renee. No, just another porcelain doll added to their collection.”

Paints splatter my abdomens, thighs, and calves--as thin as a baseball bat. More colors thrown onto my smoothly, toned arms. Some punctures then slight pricks nail right into my core.

“Flip your hair,” an odd and gay-looking man orders at me.

Feeling my long, luscious, locks fall to the floor and then I’m hastily being scurried off to the next shoot.
* * *
“Renee Maebelle, hurry up!” dad roughly barked upstairs at me in a hoarse voice, “We will be late picking up Adelyn if we do not get going! Check in is at eleven at the Clarendon Hotel in Phoenix, conveniently, and your first shoot is at two.”

I realized how agonizing that was for him to raise his voice that loud since recovering from his tonsil surgery a week and a half ago. “Coming!” I squeaked out as I jam the rest of my bathroom necessities into my, already over-packed, monogrammed luggage set-having to sit on it to zip it up. “Hopefully the five, almost six, hour drive will be spent making up some loss of shut eye, from last night,” I encourage myself as I trudge my things down the stairs.

I stuff our bags in the bed of dad’s stallion black, F-150 as a slight autumn breeze and smell of rain brushes past my cheek. “It sure comes in handy having ‘Daddy the Lawyer,’” I observed as I hopped in the front seat. Adelyn living just five minutes down the road came to be greatly admired.

We pull up, honking, to her simple white house. The garden looking as fresh as ever with the newly planted vegetables. Ad comes strolling out with an identical, monogrammed luggage set--her mom got them together for us last Christmas.

The wind picks up a bit gushing her naturally thin, strawberry blonde, hair back. Sunrays catching glimpses of her emerald eyes. Her diamond paleness shining just as bright. I fancy her petite and slender body to be just as gorgeous as mine. No matter what other people say.

“Hey Renee! Hey Mr. Ian!” she hollers out.

“Hello Adelyn. Bed is unlocked so you can shove your things in,” dad plainly said with patience in his voice, but eagerness on his face. Thunks and then slam of doors and we’re off.

Ah, do I already miss the bright city lights of Las Vegas. Passing a huge green sign with white print spelling: “ NOW LEAVING NEVADA.” What seems like days, but just an hour later we stop off at a Texaco to refuel the truck and ourselves.

While Ad throws down a big bag of cheeto puffs on the counter I ponder over diet coke or vitamin water. Lucky. She doesn’t have to live off crackers, veggies, and warm bottled waters. Being shaped and molded for five years makes me crave some sushi right about now. I place the Diet Coke can next to dad’s black mocha, spitting at myself in that imaginary mirror placed in my head. I guess we both decided to take a chance with some caffeine.

Thunder, from outside, knocks me around. The pour starts running left to right. We scramble back into the truck dripping head-to-toe. “Thankfully extra towels are kept under the seats,” I mention to dad with one already in his, bulky, hands.

We turn left at the stoplight, across from the gas station. The pour stomps heavier. Bolts grow thicker. Closer. My eyes go huge, widen by blinding unusual kinds of flashes. Superior and more clear. “ Dad! WATCH OUT!!” Shrills. Searing pain shoots through my body. My head slams against the window then back toward the seat. Spins whirl us around in every direction. Silence.

My head throbs. Dad’s face…disproportionate. Covered in warm, sticky red. The three of us have one thing in common; the chunks of glass that are wearing into our bodies. My eyes struggle while thoughts drift as I notice dad’s and Ad’s fingers lace with mine. Darkness embracing my entire mind.

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