Page 11 of Meant to Be

“Thanks,” I said, thinking that was pretty high praise.

“But if you don’t like it…you could always get a nose job,” Wendy added. “Did I tell you my dad said I could get a boob job for my eighteenth birthday?”

I shook my head and said no, storing this bit of information away in the “Wendy lives on a different planet” file. Man, she really did.

—

Later, I showedmy photos to my mom, feeling so proud when her face lit up.

“Catherine Cooper! These are gorgeous! We need to get you an agent!”

I laughed.

“I mean it! Or you could enter one of those model search things…. I saw one being advertised at the Cherry Hill Mall.”

Just then, Chip came around the corner with a can of Coors Light and said, “She’s not doing any damn model searches.”

“Why not?” I asked, at my own peril.

“They’re all run by pimps and child molesters,” he said, the authority on everything. “And they’re a scam. We aren’t throwing money down the drain for some pipe dream.”

I exchanged a fleeting glance with my mom, who instantly caved. “You’re right, honey,” she said to Chip.

“Besides,” Chip added, looking at me. “Your nose is too big for you to be a model.”

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