Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters #2)

by Krista Ritchie

“Everything!” the designer shouts at me. I flinch. “You gained weight since last I saw you.” “I didn’t,” I say. My pulse kicks up another notch. I didn’t. I know I didn’t. “We can measure her,” the stylist suggests. “This is wrong.” The designer touches the sleeve. “This is not on you right.” She tries to adjust the gown, but it looks right to me. I don’t see how my head is supposed to go where she’s pointing. That’s not how I wore it in the fitting. “No, no, no.” The designer pinches my slender waistline and then her hands fall to my ass. She stretches the fabric down and then squeezes my butt. “This is too tight. Her thighs, too fat.” I try to grin and bear it, the designer’s hands going wherever she pleases, in places that I would prefer her not to touch. I haven’t eaten real food in days. I don’t see how I could have gained anything other than hunger. The designer just dislikes me. I must have offended her somehow. “I want another model,” she declares. “Get her ready, the hair, the makeup. Now.” My eyes grow big. “Wait, please, let me fix this. Don’t pull me out of the show.” I’ve walked more than one runway this week, but being fired from even a single job will displease my mom. “The dress looks hideous on you,” she says. The models in the line watch the designer berate me with more insults. “You’re overweight. I don’t even know why others are booking you.”

daisy, omg.