What was I doing here?
As I was about to run screaming, Grandma arrived and walked over to me, giving me a much-needed hug.
All my nervousness spilled out in one sentence, “I’m so late and the show is about to start and I’m not dressed yet.”
Grandma forced me to look at her by holding onto my arms. “Deep breaths. You’re going to be fine. Your hair and makeup are already done, and it’ll take you two minutes to get into your gown.” Then she winked at me with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “And I’ve been here a while and have seen the other contestants, you’ve got this in the bag.”
“Grandma, you don’t know that.” I appreciated her support, but observing all the models in front of me made my mind squeeze with embarrassment. “Oh man, I should’ve hired a model.”
Tightening her grip on my arms, Grandma said, “I saw your dress before it was even finished, and it blows all these other designers out of the water. You’re going to be the star, and you are a model. It’s better showing off your own design anyway.” Glancing over her shoulder toward the closed curtain, she turned back to me with an eyebrow raised in excitement. “That boy, Josh, from the picture you stole is here. I gather you two have been talking some more?”
Gulp.
“He actually came?” I peeled away from Grandma’s embrace and approached the curtain, still lugging my dress. I peered outside.
I must have walked straight past him. He sat by himself in the second row of chairs, shifting in his seat and wringing his hands.
On the loudspeaker, a voice boomed, “All contestants have your models or yourselves report to the start of the runway.”
The curtain dropped, and my eyes widened in terror.
Grandma grabbed the garment bag out of my arms and helped me get dressed in comic speed. Though there were vanities and mirrors all around, I was too scared to look at myself.
But Grandma radiated pride. “You are so beautiful, just look.”
I didn’t want to.
I was terrified for some reason.
Grandma scooched me to a mirror against my will, and my breath caught in my throat.
The dress.
Me.
I . . .
A swirling galaxy wrapped around my body as if I were the sun in its center.
I did it.
I had brought my imagination to life.
And now I was going to show it to the people who held my future in their hands. The judges who would decide whether or not my dreams came true. All of it rested on this dress.
And it was spectacular.
Grandma kissed my cheek. “Now get up there and show them how talented you are.”
Back to reality.
Back to my entire nervous system shutting down.
There was so much pressure on this moment, on this runway. My entire future depended on it.
I nearly swallowed my tongue when the announcer said, “Jeraline Arnold!”
“That’s you, go!” Grandma gently shoved me forward.
Scrambling up the stairway, I walked up onto the start of the runway.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
Puke.
Yup.
Gonna puke.
The woman in charge of the models waved frantically for me to go. Charged up with nerves and terror, I stepped out onto the runway and tried to walk “cool” without flailing like a total idiot.
My eyes met Josh’s, and my stomach twisted in on itself, but I managed a small smile. He gave me a little wave and a grin. Did I feel calmer or more nervous? I couldn’t tell. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if I had circulation in my legs.
The judges sat behind their table, stern faces, marking their papers, watching my every move.
Why did I do this on purpose?
Grandma was now in the front row with Buster, and she motioned for me to smile.
Right. Smile. As opposed to what I had probably been doing, which was a lot of grimaces and horror-stricken widened eyeballs.
I sure hoped my plastered grin didn’t make me look like a serial killer, but it was all I had in me at the moment.
I couldn’t do this.
I wanted to run.
I wanted to hide.
My legs grew more and more numb, and I didn’t think I’d make it down the runway.
I moved as if the air was made from invisible mud, slow and out of place.
Another model walked toward me, going at normal speed, stomping fiercely.
As she marched closer, her entire body transformed into my attacker from the alley.
I shook my head to snap out of it, but nothing functioned properly. The model kept coming toward me, her face still my attacker’s.
I turned to the audience in hopes to break myself out of this nightmare, to see Josh, Grandma, or Buster.
I stopped breathing as every single face in the building was now my attacker’s.
Legs stopped working.
The model with the attacker’s face stomped on a direct course toward me, five feet away, four, three, two, one . . .
In a panic, I moved to the right to avoid a collision when I should have moved left. The model lost her balance.
Still wearing my attacker’s face, the model used my dress to break her fall.
With a loud rip, the bottom half of my dress detached itself from the bodice.
Time slowed down as if to force me to remember every second of humiliation.
Beads popped off the dress, flying in every direction, tumbling onto the runway and into the audience.
Clanking and pattering on the floor, it sounded like rain on a tin roof.
The strangest thought pounded in my head as the beads I’d so painstakingly sewn on fell into the audience: I had caused this. By crying on my dress, I’d created these tears that were now pouring onto the floor.
They were my tears come to life, held in so tightly that they had broken free.
To make me face what I had done to that man.
It was penance.
I stood rock still.
Everyone’s faces were back to normal as my embarrassment brought me back to reality.
My eyes met Josh’s, agony threatening to make me lose consciousness, but I still stood there on
