Modelland (28 page)

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ci~L and the Bellas staring confusedly from the runway platform to the mirror. “Why are her performance and her reflection the same?” a cleft-chinned blonde named Kieran whispered.

Tookie glanced in the mirror. It showed her awkward running movements. She turned away from the mirror and glanced down at her legs. They were running, the quick pace nowhere near an elegant slowed-down runway walk.
What is happening? Is it my Sentura? The thing hates me
. She glanced out into the confused crowd. One face wasn’t fazed at all. In fact, she was sporting a clearly devilish smile.

Zarpessa.

All at once, Tookie knew.
She did something to me. Something to mess up my walk
.

Tookie gritted her teeth and charged ahead. It didn’t matter. She ran like her life depended on it, losing sight of her position on the Run-a-Way, determined not to let Zarpessa’s evil face get the best of her. Tookie ran and ran and ran and ran all the way … off the end of the runway. She knew she was no longer on the platform but was determined not to stop, and ran and ran and ran and ran until … 
Boom!

She hit the wall.

“She scores!” Zarpessa hooted from the sidelines.

“Get up!” Ci~L yelled.

Tookie struggled to stand and play it off, but it was too late—Gunnero was already shaking his head. “A failure, on so many levels. On the Run-a-Way
and
off! Maybe those crazy eyes are half blind.”

Tookie trudged to the sidelines, rubbing her sore forehead. “What happened?” Shiraz asked.

“I think it’s Zarpessa,” Tookie murmured. “But I don’t know what—or how.”

By coincidence, Zarpessa was next. Shiraz turned and faced the runway. “Hmph. I hope she fracture spine.”

Zarpessa set off, her long legs extended, her arms swinging confidently, her head held high. Not once did an ankle wobble in her high heels. She reached the end of the runway, posed, then ran back, not stopping. And then, in a display of defiance, Zarpessa eyeballed Ci~L, slipped behind the wall, and returned wearing a studded black bat-themed minidress with pronounced winglike shoulder pads. She strutted to the end of the runway, stopped abruptly, and spun four times—one more spin than Ci~L had done. She then disembarked from the platform like a gymnast and smirked haughtily at Guru Gunnero.

“Insolent,” Gunnero gazed at Zarpessa with a mix of jealousy and disgust. Ci~L gave a wave of her hand to Zarpessa as if to say
touché
.

The kaleido-clock glowed chartreuse. “Thank
God
. Class is over.” Gunnero sighed. “I guess we don’t have time for the rest of you today. Now, one of you, although an insipid show-off, may just have a little skill at Run-a-Way. But just one? That’s sad and pathetic, my No-Sees. If you girls don’t watch out, actresses will take your place on the future runways. And no, they are not famous or magical, but they’re already making their ridiculous crimson carpets a runway event in itself.” With a miffed eye-roll and a disgusted sigh, he dismissed them.

As Shiraz waved goodbye and slipped out the door, another figure appeared behind Tookie. It was Zarpessa, and there was a wide smirk on her face. “Tough thing about your Run-a-Way collision,” she trilled. “I cannot imagine what went wrong.” Her eyes flicked to Tookie’s waist.

Tookie whipped her head up. “What did you do?”

There was a devilish look on Zarpessa’s face. “I’ll tell you a little story. I love the yellow dress I wore here, so I kept it as one of my two items. I still feel that being allowed to keep only two items is not very fair at all—I mean, my acupuncturist’s grandmother said when
she
was here, they were allowed to keep
five
things. But then I had an idea. Why couldn’t I cut up my dress and make
one
item
ten
! So you see, I’ve now got a yellow skirt, yellow gloves, a yellow beret, a yellow neck scarf, leggings, panties, a bra, two satin bracelets and … oh, did I tell you that I found a Sentura under your bed? I’m still so perplexed as to how it got there. I mean, you’re
wearing
it, aren’t you? Or maybe you have
two
. One magical and one … not.”

Tookie blinked, slowly understanding what Zarpessa was telling her. She touched the Sentura around her waist. It was the same yellow as Zarpessa’s dress, perhaps a touch off from the yellow of the
real
Sentura. “You
didn’t.
”

Zarpessa leaned her face close. “That’s right. I
didn’t
. I didn’t do a thing. But you know, if you start telling stuff about me to your friends—to
anybody
—it’ll be bad for your soul. I’m a true believer in … oh, what’s it called? Your Chakra friend would know.” Then she snapped her fingers. “I know!
Karma!
”

Zarpessa spun around triumphantly and met up with Chaste. Embarrassed and furious, Tookie turned to exit the class and locked eyes with Ci~L. The Intoxibella peered at her, her eyebrows furrowed in a frown. Tookie’s stomach clenched. It was the same ominous look she’d given Shiraz and the other girls earlier.

Ci~L turned and marched away. That was when Tookie noticed that some of the red polka-dots on the back of her jumpsuit were richer, wider, and blotchier than the others. All along Ci~L’s back, just under her shoulder blades and traveling up and down her spine, something red seeped through the cloth, growing larger and more garish by the second. It took Tookie only seconds to realize what it was.

Blood.

Rubbing her aching forehead, Tookie walked down Beautification Boulevard to her third and last class of the day, Mastication. She touched her Sentura on her hips—the
correct
Sentura, which she’d found exactly where Zarpessa had said it was: under her bed.

She felt a familiar pang in her stomach again, a mixture of pity and envy for Zarpessa. There was anger in that pang too. Tookie couldn’t help it.
I know she’s got a secret, but why does that girl have to be so nasty?

Slowly, she realized that the pangs were due to something else too: hunger. It had been over a day since Tookie had eaten anything—an absolutely rarity for her—but she miraculously
hadn’t been hungry until this very moment. Now her stomach felt like it was caving in on itself, and her throat felt parched from all the running—into walls—in Run-a-Way.

Tookie finally found the site of Mastication class. The building was a giant bowl made up of multicolored bricks, with a ladle-shaped smokestack poking out the top. As she got closer, Tookie could see that the bricks were actually loaves of wheat, white, pumpernickel, and raisin bread. Butter and cream cheese served as grout, beef and chicken kebabs provided additional building support, and the windows seemed effervescent, like they were carbonated. Tookie stuck out her tongue to lick the window.

“Don’t do that!”

Tookie turned to see Dylan running toward her.

“I just tried it,” Dylan said, out of breath. “I licked a kebab and … 
zap! Cuh-ray-zee!
”

Tookie looked at the building with disappointment in her eyes. “But I’m starving. I could even eat chocolate.”

“Oh yeah,” Dylan said sarcastically. “Disgustin’, horrendous chocolate. Well, it is in front of you. Right there,” Dylan said, pointing to some brownies serving as window trim. “But it just might kill ya.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Tookie said.

“My first class was so friggin’ hard. Oh my gosh, Tookie, it’s called Tick-Tock Color Clock—it was
supposed
to explain how to use the clocks around here. But not one of us walked out knowin’ a friggin’ thing. How was your last class?”

“A pain in more ways than one,” Tookie said quietly, rubbing her forehead again. She shared what had happened to her in Run-a-Way, including the story of Zarpessa’s Sentura switcheroo.

Dylan clenched her jaw. “That girl deserves an ass-whoopin’! No one treats my Tookie like that!”

Tookie blushed. She’d never been
anyone’s
Tookie. It felt good. “It’s tempting, but I don’t think we should stoop to her level,” Tookie concluded as they walked toward the building.

Dylan made a face. “What’s she got against you anyway?”

Zarpessa’s threat swam into her mind. Tookie thought about sharing Zarpessa’s secret with Dylan but then just shrugged. “I have no idea.”

They walked into the entryway. Suddenly, Tookie’s ears filled with the sound of frying bacon. Her nose twitched with the most delicious smell ever, a combination of the juicy fat from soup dumplings, barbeque ribs, sourdough bread, and rich melted butter. Her stomach let out another grumble.

On a door the word
mastication
was spelled in macadamia nuts. Inside was a large, three-tiered room. Bulbous copper receptacles stood on each tier. Copper pipes connected the receptacles and disappeared into smooth concrete walls. The smell of food was everywhere.

A tall, striking, lovely woman with a round face and brilliant blue eyes burst through two swinging doors at the front of the room. Her legs made an upside-down, bowed-out U, as though she’d just jumped off a horse after a long ride. Her arms were extended, as if she were still holding the reins. She wore a tool belt filled with bright, shiny copper knives, ladles, tongs, and spatulas, and a chef’s apron that had all kinds of food—cobs of corn, veggie sticks, blue corn tortillas, and prawns still in their shells with the heads attached—stitched into the fabric.

The walking buffet didn’t stop there. She wore armbands
made of roasted garlic. Her pants were made of a burlap potato sack. Atop her head sat a hybrid of a chef’s hat and a cowboy hat, filled with tiny bags of spices. And her hair consisted of long, tubelike food items—strands of spaghetti, whips of licorice, blades of wheatgrass.

She sat down on the edge of the desk, nibbling on her hair, saying nothing.

More girls spilled into the room. Something whipped past Tookie’s ankle. It made a teeny
boing
sound, like a bug on springs. As the rest of the Bellas filed in—including Chaste and Zarpessa again, the Likee sisters, and Kamalini—more of the creatures zoomed through the air. Girls screamed. Kamalini clasped her hands over her Headbangor. Finally, Tookie spied one standing still on a table. It was a small mouselike thing with pointy ears, a long tail, and a slit across its belly.

“Uh, excuse me?” Zarpessa screamed to the Guru, who didn’t seem alarmed by the chaos. “This classroom is infested with vermin!”

The Guru chuckled. “Nah, they’re just roo jerky.” Grabbing a set of chopsticks from the table, she caught a hopping creature as it passed. “You little bugger!” She tossed it into her mouth. “They taste like chicken. If you catch one, I’ll let you eat it.”

Half the class shuddered, but Tookie salivated at the jerky. She was so starving she’d have eaten anything.

The Guru grabbed another jerky, then hopped off the desk. “G’day! My name is Lauro Brown. Guru Lauro to you.” She had an accent from Didgeridoo, a hot land full of beaches and unusual animals with strange names.

“And this is where Mastication happens!” Lauro continued.
“In this class, the only one who will use magic is me. Therefore, those lovely yellow sashes round your waists have got to go.”

She walked around the class confiscating all the Senturas, labeling them with each girl’s name so they wouldn’t get confused. Tookie breathed a sigh of relief.
At least I know Zarpessa won’t sabotage my Sentura in this class
.

Then Guru Lauro returned to her desk. “Okay, Bellas, stick out your tongues!”

The girls looked at each other nervously, then obeyed. Lauro walked up to Dylan and grabbed her perfect pink tongue between her fingers. “Ahhh, Dylan. Your favorite food is …” She twisted Dylan’s tongue up and around, inspecting it closely. “Bou-Big-Tique deep-dish pizza pie!”

Dylan jolted back and put her hands on her hips. “Honey, don’t say pizza pie unless you
got
some!”

Lauro turned next to Tookie’s tongue. “Your favorite food is an odd one. Whipped cream … straight out of the can … am I right?”

Tookie nodded. Immediately her mouth began to water.

Next, Lauro appraised the Likees. All four girls stuck out their tongues, and Lauro frowned. “Sugar-free breath mints?”

The Likees nodded eagerly. “They. Are. Our. Favorites!” they said down the line. “We. Suck. One. Each.”

Lauro gave them an odd look. “That’s no way to live, dearies. You realize your bodies need fuel, correct? You realize you’ll still be beautiful if you chew and swallow?”

The Likees wrinkled their noses in unison.

Then she turned to Zarpessa. “Hmmm,” Lauro murmured, looking at Zarpessa’s tongue. “White-truffle-wagyu-saffron risotto topped with Almas caviar.”

“Right! I’m obsessed!” Zarpessa yelped. “Our private chef prepares it when we’re not dining out at Le Douley.”

“Oh, but wait, sweetie. There’s something else I’m seeing.”

Zarpessa’s face quivered. “What?”

“A blend of … discarded foods. Room-temperature, slightly decaying. Puzzling. Very much
dero
food, mate.”

“Dero?” Dylan whispered to Tookie.

Tookie hesitated but decided she would translate. “
Dero
means ‘homeless’ in the Didgeridoo dialect.”

Dylan and Tookie looked back at Zarpessa to find that Zarpessa was already glaring at them.

“Madame, how did you know our favorites?” Kamalini asked. Her favorite food was the special vegetarian samosas she used to eat watching her mother on movie sets.

Lauro adjusted her hat. “Because I, mates, am a tongue-reader. I can tell what all of your tastes are at all times. Reading tongues for me is like reading palms. I know what you want, when you want it, when your tummy’s happy and”—she pointedly eyed the Likees—“when it’s sad. You’re all very hungry right now, aren’t you?”

Everyone started to murmur. Tookie clutched her belly.

Lauro removed her chef’s hat, revealing a crazy, stiff ponytail that looped straight into the sky. She tipped the hat upside down and made a spilling motion. A fine yellow smoke swept out and slithered around the room, snaking into each and every girl’s nostrils.