Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Digimon. And the plot is mostly based on the story "All That Glitters" which surprise, surprise, does not belong to me either. Now that we've established that I don't own either of the above, please don't sue me.

Author's Notes:

*Hey everyone! I apologize for not updating in forever but now that the third marking period is finally over (with my very well-deserved-but-nearly-freakin'-killed-me-to-earn A in math) I have time to write again! Yay!

*This story is a/u (alternate universe)- the whole Digimon thing never happened.

*And to my faithful readers I'm sorry, but this is definitely not my usual coupling (this one's Mimato/Michi/Sorato *yeah, yeah, I'm surprised too*). But give a try, please? I love you guys! And I'm also terribly sorry about not posting the next chapter of "Music of My Heart". I have a rough outline, but I don't want to put it up until it's at it best. So continue being patient, and thanks for your support.

*Don't forget to review, but please don't flame! (Don't you just hate those people who are all 'I won't update until I get ____ many reviews' though? Some people -like me- just don't do reviews.)

            Mimi gingerly rubs her throbbing temples with her fingertips, sighing deeply, and feverishly wishing that she would never have to see the blinding flash of a camera ever again. Today's photo shoot had been an absolute nightmare. The photographer was an arrogant and irritable man; and his negative attitude and snide remarks made her feel extremely uncomfortable and insecure.

            "It's not you, hun," Amaya had said in the dressing room as she swept a touch of glitter onto Mimi's rosy cheeks. "He's always a bitch." Amaya studied Mimi's face carefully before dabbing Mimi's under-eyes with a makeup sponge. "You've got bags under your eyes. How late were you up partying?"

            "I was doing research," Mimi corrected. "I have a term paper due next week."

            Amaya nodded skeptically. "Oh, right," she stated indifferently as she gave Mimi's make-up another critique, and finally nodding in approval after applying a thin coat of clear gloss to Mimi's lips.

Her makeup finished, Tara, the fashion stylist handed her the outfit for the first shot. "Take off your bra," she commanded.

            Mimi discreetly removed her bra. "Where's my top?" Mimi asked after she had donned the cute pair of jeans, intricately decorated with delicate lace at the flares.

"You don't get one for this shot, " the stylist said impatiently as she looked her wristwatch. "Let's go."

Mimi didn't move and instinctively wrapped her arms protectively around her chest.

"Don't worry, your hair will cover your breasts."

Mimi still didn't move. 

"What? This isn't a problem is it?" Tara snapped, her words dripping with sarcasm. "I thought you were a professional. This is high fashion, not some advertisement for Wal-Mart."

            Mimi's throat tightened and she rapidly blinked back tears. "I am a professional," she retorted. "I've just never done anything topless before," she finished lamely.

            "Stop wasting my time. Do you want to be a model or don't you? Should I call your agency to send me someone else?" Tara tapped her foot impatiently.

            The threat of such humiliation was too much for Mimi. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "No, it's ok, I can do it."

            Yet Mimi found it impossible to relax on the set. Although her pink tresses were long enough to cover her, and although she knew the pictures would turn out beautiful and exotic she felt used and embarrassed.

            "Loosen up," the photographer called out from behind the camera. "Purse your lips a bit, ok. Arch your back, yeah, that's nice." Clickclickclickclick. "Don't be so stiff, you look like you're made out of wood. Have fun with it." Click, click. "Could I get a little more…something?" Mimi tried to accommodate. "No. Show me sass. Sassier, come one, show me attitude…"

            "Don't worry, you look ravishing darling," Amaya whispered as she brushed a fine dusting of shimmer onto Mimi's shoulders while the camera was being reloaded.

            This was not much consolation. Even though she was fully covered for the rest of the shots Mimi was miserable. Mimi felt horribly lonely between the photographer's barking orders, Amaya yanking and tugging at her hair, and everyone else on set pulling her one direction and then another.

            On her way home, Mimi stopped by her agency to see her manager.

            "I don't want to be a nerd," she told her booker, "but I don't know if I'm ready for my breasts to be splashed on the cover of some magazine for all to see."

            "Mimi, do you want to be a model or don't you?" her agent asked, just as Tara had. "This is a big break that other girls would kill for. Once these pictures come out, you career is going to take off like fireworks on the 4th of July."

            'Great,' Mimi thought sarcastically. 'Then I can have days like this all the time.'

Mimi shifts in her seat uncomfortably. It was hard to pay attention to the teacher when she could feel the envious stares of the girls bore into her. And she could practically see the boys undressing her with their eyes. 'Not that there'll be much left to the imagination after that magazine comes out,' she thinks bitterly. Everywhere she went Mimi seemed to kick up rumors like dust, and this school was no exception.

"And that's all for today's lesson," the teacher announces. "Oh, and try-outs for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet will be held in the auditorium today afternoon. I encourage all of you to attend."