Read The Look for Free Online Page B

about the celebrities, what they’re like behind the scenes, the tricks of the trade —”
    “And take drugs and get anorexia,” I remind her, thinking of Mum.
    She snorts. “They can’t all do it. Besides, Mum would never let you get anorexia. She practically force-feeds us as it is. Anyway, you eat like a horse. If you had to go more than twenty minutes without a cookie, you’d keel over.”
    This is true. However, Ava has put her finger on the other flaw in her plan, apart from the fact that I am neither beautiful nor clinically insane: Mum. She’d totally forbid me to even try. I point this out.
    “I’m sure I could persuade her,” Ava says, worrying at her fingernail. “Think of the money, Ted. Linda Evangelista didn’t get out of bed for less than ten thousand dollars a day.”
    “Who’s Linda Evangelista?”
    “Oh, for God’s sake! Anyway, imagine what Mum could do with ten thousand dollars.”
    I can’t. I can imagine what I could do with ten thousand dollars, though — converted to pounds, obviously. I’d get our old cottage in Richmond back. The garden. My own space … I didn’t appreciate it enough while we were there, not nearly. Oh, and I’d buy a couple of school skirts. Long ones. And lots of new underwear.
    “But there is another option,” Ava suggests. I’m not sure she really believes Mum would be won over by the money argument.
    “Oh. What?”
    “Not tell her. Not to start with, anyway. Not until you were super-successful. Nobody minds when you’re super-successful.”
    “Brilliant. Genius,” I say. I’m not often sarcastic with my sister, but honestly. Of all the rubbish ideas I’ve ever heard …
    “Listen.” She sits up again, with her arms clasped around her knees and her head resting against them. She looks exhausted. Those dark circles under her eyes were another clue. It seems impossible that someone you live with every day can have cancer and you don’t even see it. And here we are talking about modeling: We must both be crazy. “I’m going to be … busy this summer. Lots of hospital appointments and … you remember Nan. Chemo is tough. You need something fun to think about. We both do. You can’t rely on me to provide your entertainment.”
    This is true. I know I rely on her too much, but she’s always been there — thinking up mad stuff to do — and I guess I’m just used to it. Sure it’s annoying sometimes, but I don’t want anything to be different. Certainly not like this. If the guidance counselor were to ask me how I was feeling right now, I’d say I was upset: upset and frightened.
    Finally, Ava turns out the light and I lie there in the darkness, wondering. About Ava, about me, about Simon. About having your whole summer taken away because your dad noticed a lump in your neck. About earning ten thousand dollars a day. Is that honestly possible? And who is Linda Evangelista, anyway?

A s soon as I can on Tuesday morning, I tell Daisy about my conversation with Ava.
    “She wants you to do what ?” she asks, dropping her backpack on her desk with a thump.
    “I know. It doesn’t make sense.”
    “So what was her argument?” Daisy asks. “Why did she think you’d be interested?”
    “Something about life being precious,” I mumble. “ Carpe -ing the diem , I suppose.”
    “Whiching the who?”
    “Seizing the day. It’s something that Dad says.”
    “By standing around in your undies?”
    “I know. But Ava says you get to go on planes and stuff. And you get paid loads of money. And it would keep her happy.”
    “When have you ever wanted to keep your sister happy?” Daisy scoffs.
    “Since she got lymphoma?”
    “Good point.”
    As we unpack our bags, I wait for Daisy to remind me about the drugs and anorexia. She feels the same way about fashionand modeling as I do — which is that there are fashion victims and there are real people like us, with better things to think about, like who is cooler out of The Kills and The