Model Misfit (20 page)

“Or what?” Poppy suddenly says. “For goodness’ sake, Rin. There are more important things in life than being
cute
.”

I glance at Poppy in surprise. She’s been staring at herself in every reflective surface since we left the house. A few minutes ago she was checking herself out in the pancake spoon.

Rin is appalled. “No,” she says belligerently. “Cute is
most
important. Love is cute. Fashion is cute. Flowers is cute. Animals is cute. All good things is cute.” She gestures at us. “Friendship is cute. We shall ask BFF questions and do answers now,
ne
?”

I beam at Rin. I
love
questions and answers. Plus, I’m not sure any girl has ever said that to me before. Even Nat tends to avoid Q&A whenever possible. She knows I get a bit too carried away.

“Brilliant,” I say, trying not to notice Poppy stifling a yawn. “I’ll start. Rin, where in Japan do you come from and what is it like?”

“Nichinan,” she says. “It is small fishes town at bottom of Japan. Very hot. Palm trees and chicken and rice and mountains and sea. Pretty but
nandakke …
hushed.” She pulls a face. “Me now. Harry-chan, have you always been wanting to be modelling?”

“No,” I laugh. “It just sort of … happened.”

“You enjoy model much?”

I think about this. “Sometimes. It’s fun and exciting, but it can be a bit scary. And I’m a walking disaster in high heels. I guess I’m always waiting for it to end, to be honest.”

Rin nods. “And you are possibly here for more Baylee, Harry-chan? I see cute jump jump picture in snow.”

“Nope.” I wipe cream off my jeans with a bit of pancake and then stick it in my mouth, like the Goddess of Class I am. “Actually it’s for Yuka’s new campaign. She’s left Baylee, and she’s setting up her own label. There are quite a few of us working on it in different countries. I got Tokyo, so I’m super happy.” I smile at Rin. “Your turn, Poppy.”

Poppy throws another strawberry on the floor. “Hit me,” she says.

“Nick-kun,” Rin replies, and my stomach drops as my ears go totally numb. “How long have you been in awesome twosome with perfect Australian, Poppy-chan?”

“Oh, I don’t know, six weeks?” Poppy says, instantly brightening. “Seven?”

What
?

He waited less than
two weeks
before moving on?

“We met on a shoot and REALLY hit it off straight away. I could tell he liked me immediately. He’d just split up with somebody else, but that was a total non-issue.”

An involuntary twitch has started in the corner of my eye.
Change the subject, Harriet. Quickly. Pretend like Nat told you to.
“Who…?” I hear myself say, and then clamp my mouth together.

Yup. Whatever comes, I’ve totally asked for it.

“Just some girl,” Poppy shrugs, throwing a bit of pancake at a passing scooter. “He must’ve got bored of her pretty quickly. It was no big deal.”

I suddenly want to cry. The only romance of my life was
No Big Deal
?

It was a big deal to me.

No: it was a
massive
deal. Elephantine. Titanic. Megalithic; cumbersome; stupendous; monumental. I feel like I’m a tiny fly that accidentally zoomed into Nick’s face: as if he’s just wiped me away on a bit of tissue and carried on walking with slightly watery eyes, while I’ve been totally obliterated.

Boring?

I start getting all indignant and then abruptly stop. Oh, who am I kidding? I hear that insult all the time. It’s currently scratched into my pencil case.

Rin is totally fascinated. “You are One for Him, Poppy-chan,” she says, her eyes glittering. “I feel it here.” She pats her chest. “Everything until you meet is …
nandakke.
Rehearsal.”

“I guess,” Poppy says, standing up gracefully and throwing the rest of the totally uneaten pancake in the bin. “When it’s perfect you just know, don’t you?”

No
, I realise.
Clearly I do not.

“Entirely,” Rin says cheerfully, hopping off the bench. “I think we will go have
biff
photos taken now. We can ride horse and wear bunny ears together. Amazingballs
?
”

“Cool,” Poppy says. “Can I be in the middle? I’ve just bought a new lipstick.”

As we start making our way to a huge machine with a queue of giggling girls standing outside it, all I can think is if there’s anything worse than being dumped, it’s knowing that you were just a dress rehearsal.

That a Big Deal for you was just practice for somebody else.

in drags us around the rest of Tokyo until even my love affair with it starts to feel a little strained.

Finally she decides we’ve seen enough for one day and allows us to drag our exhausted, aching bodies back to the flat. Poppy goes straight to the bathroom to get ready to go out again.

With her MBF
, I think miserably.

“Harry-chan,” Rin says, patting a plastic bag containing a puffy sparkly yellow dress and matching yellow shoes. “I must go get dressed up for stay in watch TV. This trousers is making me super sad. Ooh.” She bends down and picks an envelope off the mat. “Alphabet for you.”

I smile and open the letter. In beautiful, curly handwriting it says:

Ring at 7am. Be ready. Yuka

On the upside: I obviously haven’t been fired yet.

On the downside, I have absolutely no idea what Yuka means.

She’s never been prone to particularly elaborate sentences, but this is concise even for her. There’s an address written in Japanese just below that makes equal sense to me.

What am I supposed to do? Is she going to ring me? Does she want me to ring her? Are we doing a wedding shoot, or something based on horror films? Is it
Lord of the Rings
themed?

Actually, I bet this is the exact letter Frodo got before they sent him out of the Shire.

Tucking the letter into my back pocket, I go straight to the bedroom and pull an alarm clock out of my suitcase: a pretty little plastic bird that plays a genuine recording of a British skylark. I carefully set it to start dancing and flashing its eyes at 6am tomorrow morning and put it on the top of the drawers next to my bed. Then I drag out my rocket alarm clock, set it to launch at 6.10am, and put that next to the bird.

Finally, I get my target shooter clock out and put it on the other side of the room. When it goes off at 6.20am, I’ll have to get out of bed, cross the room and shoot it in the middle with a laser gun to stop it beeping. And probably throw it against a wall and stamp on it as well, because even point-blank range is a bit too far for my sporting prowess.

Rin watches the entire process from her bunk bed, and then abruptly grabs Kylie (also now in a little yellow sequin dress), runs into the cupboard in the hallway and climbs inside it. After a lot of rummaging – and a bit of disgruntled yowling – she scurries back over to my bed with an armful of objects I don’t recognise.

“Too-doo,” she says triumphantly, dumping them on my lap.

“It’s ta-da, Rin,” I smile. “What’s this?”

“This,” she says, picking up a big white plastic ball, “shines relaxy picture on ceiling.” She picks up a small plastic box. “This measure snoring.” She hands me a thin sheet of plastic. “This keep pillow cold. And this” – she pulls out an umbrella – “is umbrella with lights.
Mi-teh
.” She presses a button and the whole thing lights up like a Christmas tree.

I pause, trying to find a way to put this without sounding ungrateful. “Umm – what are they for?”

“For help sleep, Harry-chan. For good dream tonight.” She pauses. “Not umbrella,” she adds. “Umbrella for rain. Or flying, like Mary Poppins.”

A lump suddenly forms in my throat. “Thank you, Rin.”

“It’s
nandakke
… Okily-dokily. Is that right, Harry-chan? I saw on Sampsons.”

“
The
Simpsons
.”

“Yes. Funny yellow Australians.” Rin laughs and claps her hands, at which point we both hear the sound of desperate scratching coming out of the cupboard. “Oh my goat!” Rin cries, standing up and putting her hand over her mouth. “I shut Kylie Minogue in closet!”

As she scampers out of the room, I start merrily setting my new presents up. I plug in the big round ball so it shines pictures of kittens on to the wall next to my bed, press a few buttons on the sleep analyser and stick the cooler into my pillowcase. I’m just trying to work out how I can wedge the umbrella into the corner of my bed as a kind of waterproof night-light when there’s a loud knock at the door.

“Harriet?” Poppy shouts. “Can you get that for me?”

I look at the door with a sinking heart and abruptly decide:
no. Actually. Thanks, but I’d rather give myself root canal with a coat hanger.

So I do the only thing I can think of: I whip my top off. “Sorry, but I’m not properly dressed,” I shout back.

Poppy pokes her head round the door and looks at me. “Is that an Eeyore bra?”

I knew I should have listened to Nat and burnt it before something like this happened. “Kanga’s on it too, actually,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster. “And Roo.”

“They never do silly things in my size,” Poppy sighs. “It’s all boring lace and silk and underwiring.” She does a little twirl in a silvery dress. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” I say, and then look down at the non-event happening on my chest.

Thanks, genetics.

“Wish me luck?” Poppy beams, grabbing her handbag and glittering out of the door in a wave of perfume and curls.

“Luck,” I call and – as soon as the door shuts behind her – groan then slowly get my laptop out of my satchel.

Boring
, I think as I open my computer and start playing online Snakes and Ladders with a random twelve-year-old in Indonesia.

Silly
, I think as I yank my dolphin hoody on over my stupid bra.

No big deal.

January 17th (161 days ago)

t’s not going to rain,” Nick said firmly. “They’re not rain clouds. They’re all fluffy and white.”

“Is that the technical term?” I said, grabbing my umbrella anyway. I was
so
not taking weather advice from an Australian.