Braless in Wonderland Read Online Free PDF Page B

it fresh. You’re not Christina Aguilera. You’re trying too hard, so take it down a notch, more like your sister here, know what I’m saying?”
    Her lip was quivering. She wouldn’t look at me. She scooped up her pictures and took off.
    Baldie gave her a little wave. “Best of luck.”
    I made hard eye contact with Baldie. “I can’t believe you didn’t give her a chance. She’s the prettiest girl here.”
    â€œBeing pretty and being a model are two different things.”
    â€œYeah, but she wants to be one really badly.”
    â€œPrecious, nobody chooses modeling. It chooses you.”
    â€œIs there someone else who can see us?” some girl whined from down the line.
    Jay held up the digital camera. He and Baldie stared at it, commenting.
    â€œAmazing skin. Like caviar and pearls.” Wow, my skin was like caviar and pearls?
    â€œGreat teeth.”
    â€œAnd hair. It’s every color from chocolate to butter.”
    â€œShe’s commercial, not fashion.”
    â€œOh, def. Very commercial.”
    Jay looked up and snapped another picture of me. “I’m just going to take a couple more. We need a profile, front-on, and full-body.” He was waiting for me to do something. I felt silly, but I tossed my hair like I was in a shampoo commercial. “Good, hold it.” Snap. “Now smile. Chin out.” Snap . “Shake your hair again. How do you get such fabulous highlights? You must have a great stylist.”
    Highlights? I got my hair cut once a year. Mom insisted that I do it every December for NASA’s annual nondenominational holiday barbecue. I jogged on the beach a lot. That could explain it. “No stylist. It’s sun.”
    â€œSun? I’ve never heard of it. Where can I buy some?” I grinned. Snap. “Great teeth, Allee.”
    â€œAre your parents here?” Baldie asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat size shoe are you?”
    â€œTen.”
    â€œGood. You’ll be five ten in no time. How old are you?”
    â€œSixteen. I’ll be seventeen next month. I skipped first grade, so I’m younger than—”
    â€œGreat smiling shots. Momma will love her. In fact, let’s send these to Momma today.”
    Momma? Who the hell was Momma? A pistol-packing, cowboy-hat-wearing tobacco-spitter came to mind. Actually, who cared who Momma was? None of this was legit. By this time next week I’d probably have a steaming pile of junk mail from cheesy modeling schools.
    The Fluff was waiting for me on a bench by the entrance, looking extremely pissed off. When I started walking toward her, she shot me an angry look, got up, and stomped out the door, without looking back.

chapter 4
    Right now my life was more drama-packed than a Telemundo soap. First there was the Abuela problem. Last weekend we were finishing our usual Sunday dinner of DiSalvo’s pizza when Abuela came home from some funeral, sniffing and waving a lace hankie around. Maybe she really could have been an actress, because I happened to know she couldn’t stand the lady who died. And she kept going on and on about how she’s so much more golden than all the other golden girls who were there. “…Ana used to walk around like she was the last Coca-Cola in the desert, and look at her now, in a wheelchair, and she’s younger than me. I could salsa all night long, I could do a hundred jumping jacks ( yumping yacks ), cook a ten-course gourmet meal, sing an aria…” and blah-blapity-blah-blah. For someone who sat around in a recliner glued to the TV all day, she was really wasting all her talents. Anyway, none of us were paying attention until she said, “I met a nice man at the wake. A very nice man.”
    Dad snorted. “A man? At your age, Maria?”
    â€œWhat, you think I’m a dinosaur?”
    â€œYeah, you’re a pterodactyl! You’re a pterodactyl!” Robby shouted. Did I