A teacher? Berke had laughed. That’s a dumb-ass idea. Teachers make zip. Do you hear me? Zip. You can make more sweeping floors. Anyway, your old lady and I don’t have money to send you to college.
But I’ve been offered a scholarship and—
So what? You’ll spend four years wasting your time. Forget it. With your looks, you could probably peddle your ass.
Kelly had left the table.
Now she said to Mrs. Houston, “There’s a problem. They won’t let me go to college.” Her voice was choked. “I’ll spend the rest of my life doing what I’m doing!”
“Of course you won’t.” Mrs. Houston’s tone was firm. “How old are you?”
“In three months I’ll be eighteen.”
“You’ll soon be old enough to make your own decisions. You’re a beautiful young woman, Kelly. Do you know that?”
“No. Not really.” How can I tell her that I feel like a freak? I don’t feel beautiful. “I hate my life, Mrs. Houston. I don’t want to be like—I want to get away from this town. I want something different, and I’ll never have it.” She was trying hard to control her emotions. “I’ll never have a chance to do something, to be somebody.”
“Kelly—”
“I never should have read all those books.” Her voice was bitter.
“Why?”
“Because they’re filled with lies. All those beautiful people and glamorous places and magic…” Kelly shook her head. “There is no magic.”
Mrs. Houston studied her a moment. It was obvious that Kelly’s sense of self-worth had been badly damaged. “Kelly, there is magic, but you have to be the magician. You have to make the magic happen.”
“Really?” Kelly’s tone was cynical. “How do I do that?”
“First, you have to know what your dreams are. Yours are to have an exciting life, filled with interesting people and glamorous places. The next time you come in here, I’ll show you how to make your dreams come true.”
Liar.
THE WEEK AFTER Kelly graduated, she returned to the library. Mrs. Houston said, “Kelly, do you remember what I said about making your own magic?”
Kelly said skeptically, “Yes.”
Mrs. Houston reached behind her desk and pulled out a handful of magazines: COSMOgirl, Seventeen, Glamour, Mademoiselle, Essence, Allure…She handed them to Kelly.
Kelly looked at them. “What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Have you ever thought of becoming a model?”
“No.”
“Look at these magazines. Then tell me if they give you any ideas that might bring magic into your life.”
She means well, Kelly thought, but she doesn’t understand. “Thank you, Mrs. Houston, I will.”
I’ll start looking for a job next week.
KELLY TOOK THE magazines back to the boardinghouse and shoved them into a corner and forgot about them. She spent the evening doing her chores.
As Kelly started to get into bed that night, exhausted, she remembered the magazines Mrs. Houston had given her. She picked up a few out of curiosity and started to skim through them. It was another world. The models were beautifully dressed, with handsome, elegant men at their sides, in London and Paris and exotic places all over the world. Kelly felt a sudden sense of yearning. She hastily put on a robe and walked down the hall to the bathroom.
She studied herself in the mirror. She supposed that perhaps she was attractive. Everyone always told her she was. Even if it’s true, I have no experience. She thought about her future life in Philadelphia and looked in the mirror again. Everyone has to start somewhere. You have to be the magician…make the magic happen.
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Kelly was in the library to see Mrs. Houston.
Mrs. Houston looked up, surprised to see Kelly in the library so early. “Good morning, Kelly. Have you had a chance to look at the magazines?”
“Yes.” Kelly took a deep breath. “I would like to try being a model. The problem is that I have no idea where to start.”
Mrs. Houston smiled. “I do. I looked in the New York telephone directory. You said you wanted to leave this town?” Mrs. Houston took a typed sheet of paper from her purse and handed it to Kelly. “This is a list of the top dozen modeling agencies in Manhattan, with their addresses and telephone numbers.” She squeezed Kelly’s hand. “Start at the top.”
Kelly was stunned. “I—I don’t know how to thank—”
“I’ll tell you how. Let me see your photograph in these magazines.”
AT DINNER THAT evening, Kelly said, “I’ve decided that I’m going to be a model.”
Her stepfather grunted. “That’s your stupidest idea yet. What the hell’s the matter with you? All models are whores.”
Kelly’s mother sighed. “Kelly, don’t make my mistake. I had false dreams, too. They’ll kill you. You’re black and poor. You’re not going anywhere.”
That was the moment Kelly made her decision.
AT FIVE O’CLOCK the following morning, Kelly took a packed suitcase from under her bed and headed for the bus station. In her purse was two hundred dollars that she had earned babysitting.
The bus ride to Manhattan took two hours, and Kelly spent that time fantasizing about her future. She was going to become a professional model. “Kelly Hackworth” did not sound professional. I know what I’ll do. I’ll just use my first name. She said it in her mind over and over. And this is our top model, Kelly.
SHE CHECKED INTO a cheap motel, and at nine o’clock, Kelly walked in the front door of the modeling agency at the top of the list Mrs. Houston had given her. Kelly had no makeup on and was wearing a wrinkled dress, because she had no way to iron her clothes.
There was no one at the reception desk in the lobby. She approached a man sitting in an office, busily writing at a desk.
“Excuse me,” Kelly said.
The man grunted something without looking up.
Kelly hesitated. “I wondered if you needed a model.”
“No,” the man muttered, “we’re not hiring.”
Kelly sighed. “Thank you, anyway.” She turned to leave.
The man glanced up, and his expression changed. “Wait! Wait a minute. Come back here.” He had jumped to his feet. “My God. Where did you come from?”
Kelly looked at him, puzzled. “Philadelphia.”
“I mean—never mind. Have you ever modeled before?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ll learn it here, on the job.”
Kelly’s throat was suddenly dry. “Does that mean I’m—I’m going to be a model?”
He grinned. “I’ll say. We have clients who will go crazy when they see you.”
She could hardly believe it. This was one of the biggest modeling agencies in the business and they—
“My name is Bill Lerner. I run this agency. What’s your name?”
This was the moment Kelly had been dreaming of. This was the first time she was going to use her new, one-word professional name.
Lerner was staring at her. “Don’t you know your name?”
Kelly drew herself up to her full height and said confidently, “Of course I do. Kelly Hackworth.”
Chapter 9
THE SOUND OF the plane buzzing low overhead brought a smile to Lois Reynolds’s lips. Gary. He was late. Lois had offered to go to the airport to meet him, but he had said, “Don’t bother, sis. I’ll take a taxi.”
“But, Gary, I’ll be glad to—”
“It will be better if you stay home and wait for me there.”
“Whatever you say, bro.”
HER BROTHER HAD always been the most important person in Lois’s life. Her growing-up years, in Kelowna, had been a nightmare. From the time Lois was a young girl, she felt that the world was against her: glamour magazines, fashion models, female movie stars—and just because she was a little plump. Where was it written that buxom girls could not be just as beautiful as sickly-looking, skinny girls? Lois Reynolds would constantly study her reflection in the mirror. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, delicate pale features, and what Lois considered a pleasantly full-figured body. Men can go around with their beer bellies hanging over their pants and no one says a word. But let a woman put on a few pounds and she’s an object of scorn. What male moron had the right to decide that the ideal woman’s figure should be 36-26-36?
For as long as Lois could remember, her schoolmates had mocked her behind her back—“fat ass,” “tubby,” “porky.” The words hurt deeply. But Gary had always been there to defend her.
By the time Lois had graduated from the University of Toronto, she had had enough of the teasing. If Mr. Wonderful is looking for a real woman, I’m here.
AND ONE DAY, unexpectedly, Mr. Wonderful appeared. His name was Henry Lawson. They met at a church social, and Lois was immediately attracted to him. He was tall, thin, and blond, with a face that seemed always ready to smile and a disposition that matched it. His father was the minister of the church. Lois spent most of her time at the social with Henry, and while they were talking, she learned that he owned a successful nursery and was a nature lover.