True Colors by Krysten Lindsay Hager Page B

natural.”
    â€œSometimes it gets frizzy when I use a flatiron, and I wouldn’t have time to fix it right. I only washed it and wore it curly today because the stupid sheet they handed out said to look as natural as possible. Crap, I’m sweating so bad,” she said. “I’m going to start frizzing for sure now.”
    We were in the next group to audition. I watched one African-American girl curling her eyelashes in the practice area. She looked like she was thirty, but somebody said she was only sixteen. There was no way I could go in there. I didn’t belong there, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. A couple of the girls were talking about their hair extensions, and it was obvious some of them had had plastic surgery already. I looked like a little kid. Devon tried to make me feel better and reminded me that the judges said they were looking for a “fresh faced girl next door.” Yeah, tell it to the girl in the super tiny dress over there. Plus, there was the fact we’d have to do “modeling challenges” on the TV show if we made it to the third level. In the past the show had made girls pose with snakes and have pictures taken underwater.
    I would die if they made me touch a snake or pose with a tiger like Talisa had to on the show last season. I knew it was just to get people to watch the show, but it made me want to throw up just thinking about it. As I glanced around I wondered what kind of look they were hoping to find in this competition. A bunch of gorgeous girls had already been cut from the morning group, and some odd, scrawny girls had already moved on to the next level. I looked around the room to see if there were any regular, normal looking girls there. I saw one plain girl who was going in for her audition. I stood in the doorway to watch. As she walked the runway, I noticed she had slouched the whole way. I thought she’d get cut for sure, but the judges applauded when she was done. Devon and I just stared at each other.
    â€œThey liked her ?” Devon asked.
    â€œDon’t get mad, but I’m not doing it. I can’t go up there. I’ll make a fool of myself, and to be honest, I don’t want to hear what they’re going to say about me,” I said.
    â€œCome on, we made it this far.”
    I shook my head.
    â€œWould you at least pretend you’re going to so you can go in with me and be there to give me moral support? Then you can back out right before it’s your turn. If you don’t want them to focus on any flaws then just trip on purpose so they’ll focus on the falling instead,” she said. “Besides, you got this far, and aren’t you a little curious about what they’d say?”
    Part of me was dying to know what the judges would say. One time Ericka and I played “Truth or Dare” and she asked me what I thought her best and worst features were. I went first and said her eyes were her best feature, and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I said her only bad feature was how her hair got a little frizzy in the rain sometimes. However, she told me my worst features were my “super pale” hair which just “lay there,” and how I was “too tall.” She said my best feature was my hands. Hands. Who even looks at those? I couldn’t sleep all night. I just kept picturing myself looking like a used mop.
    â€œPlease go in with me?” Devon asked. “You can even get out of line right before you’re called, but I’d feel a lot better if I knew you were there with me.”
    I had gotten this far and maybe the judges would say I wasn’t as gross as I thought I was or maybe they’d point out something I could do with my hair. Besides, my mom had spent a lot on the hotel room — not to mention all the stuff she had bought me for the competition. I decided to try out, and we went to line up. Devon’s number was called. The rest of us