CHAPTER 15
Have Some Composure

The next couple of days were relatively uneventful, for which I was grateful and not grateful for at the same time. I had kind of gotten used to having some kind of hubbub or another happening every day, so when there wasn't such said hubbub, the day felt oddly empty and I felt oddly misplaced with my free time. I was dying to see Cunningham, but was deathly afraid of interrupting him and his busy schedule. So I practically didn't talk to him at all except for the one text he sent me shortly after Edgeraid won over Skylark in a fairly normal IGPX race. (Everything suddenly was feeling normal, I guess.)

Congratulations on your race. I see you've improved.
Hope to see you soon, Cunningham.

So, perhaps we weren't as lovey-dovey as I had previously assumed. After all, there was no indication that anything was out of the ordinary by just reading his text. Despite of a little feeling of disappointment in my heart at the message, I also felt undeniably pleased. I see you've improved. That sentence made me think back to that first conversation I had with him at that pre-season pilot social. The conversation where he basically dismissed me for being a noob and needing to work a lot harder in order for me to belong in the league they were in. Now I had improved, in his eyes. Maybe now, I belonged.

But even as I was starting to find my place in the racing world where I felt the most at home, there was another foreign land that was I definitely not fitting into. The land of AthletiTech and modeling. The same day I got the slightly disappointing, but overall heartwarming text from Cunningham, I got a cheery-as-ever text from none other than Hannah Benden, whom I did not know had my cell number.

It's Hannah from AthletiTech! I just wanted to know how you are doing and to remind you to eat lots of fruits and veggies. Also, lay off the junk food. Not good for the skin, you know? XD
Have a nice rest of the day! I'll be calling you later to tell you when your first shoot will be (aren't you excited?!).
XO, Hannah

Now, that text just left me feeling nauseous and horrified. First of all, a simple text was not enough to know how a person was, so that was a whole half of a sentence gone to waste. The little plug for fruits and veggies (but NOT JUNK FOOD) was also half funny and half infuriating, because I could totally see through the clear skin ploy and knew that Hannah wanted me nice and fit and skinny for the shoot, not fat on junk food. Then the calling me later about the first shoot aren't you excited?! just ruined the rest of my day, which gave the sentence "Have a nice rest of the day!" an ironic zest. First of all, NO I was not excited about my first shoot and second of all, did that mean the first shoot would be happening soon? Because I was not up for it to happen this soon after my initial very warm (not) welcome into the AthletiTech family. Besides, I just found out I would be modeling for them, for heaven's sake. Can't I even have a little time to get into the modeling-ish mindset?

All this thinking made my head hurt, so I tried to relax by just laying on my plain bed in my plain room at HQ alternately day dreaming about Cunningham and listening to upbeat music while imagining my races to it. The next up was Edgeraid, so I would picture their mechs rumbling around the track, rumbling toward me only to get smashed back by an epic blow delivered by yours truly.

Okay, enough. I hardly considered any of my blows to be anywhere close to epic. But a girl can dream.

While life for Jax, Beckem, and I went fairly smoothly and easily, Addy's was no such sailing. Everyday we met with her, either on the track or in the briefing room or both. Everyday we poured over strategies, reviewed mechanics, drilled facts, and trained to face different Edgeraid formations. Being an IGPX pilot is not all waving with a smiling face at the fans after you win a spectacular race. It involves all the work that is need to make the race spectacular, the not so fun part that everybody seems to miss or overlook.

It was after one of these hard work days that I got the call. We had all just endured a harsh session in the simulators and were eager to jump into the showers to wash off all our sweat and grossness. I emerged from the steamy shower feeling squeaky clean and very refreshed. Wrapping a fluffy towel around my body, I went toward my clothes that were folded and lying neatly on a bench nearby. That's when I heard the cheerful tune of my cell phone ringing.

I rushed over, foolishly hoping that it might be Cunningham. As I ransacked my clothing, trying to find the source of the electronic music, I mentally assured myself that if it turned out to be either Jax or Beckem prank calling me, I would kill them. Why they would call me while they themselves were probably in the showers, I couldn't say, but that was my thought process. I finally found my cell phone, which I had left in a pocket of my jeans, and yanked it out. The number on the front of the screen was unrecognized. Puzzled, I flipped the cell phone open and held it up to my still moist ear.

"Hello?"

About all the happiness in the world exploded in my ear. "Hi, Lotus! How are you? I hope I'm not calling at a bad time."

I winced, squeezing the eye nearest to the phone shut. "Who's this?"

"It's Hannah Benden from AthletiTech, remember? I'm calling to tell you about your first photo shoot for us!"

Ohhh, that. Great. I sat down on the bench, sliding my now messily piled clothing down so that I would have room. Why yes, this is the most fabulous time to call. "Oh right," I said instead, sounding like I just woke up from a nap.

"Yeah! I've scheduled it to be on Thursday of this week. That's in two days. Can you do that?" Thursday…I calculated in my head. My next race was on Saturday in the morning. Unfortunately, it seemed that I had nothing planned for Thursday other than training and strategizing, which Addy would obviously let me take a break from since she insisted so plainly that modeling wouldn't interrupt with my performance on the track.

"Thursday…sounds…good…" I forced myself to say. Thankfully, the reluctance in my voice sounded to Hannah as if I was thinking really hard about whether I was free or not.

"Fantastic!" she said, sounding over the phone as if she was shouting it into the receiver. "I'm really glad you can do it on Thursday, because if there had been a conflict, it would have been really hard to reschedule all the time slots for the track and the photographer and his crew and oh, it would have been an absolute nightmare. But once again, you have made my job easier for me, Lotus. Thank you so much."

"Um, yeah, sure. You're welcome." I had no idea what she was talking about, so I decided just to go along with it. What the hell.

"So then. It's settled. Your shoot will be on Thursday morning, at eight o'clock sharp. Try not to be late. I suggest you get a good amount of sleep the night before, but not way over the amount you usually get. We wouldn't want you looking groggy, would we?" She giggled at her own little joke (which I wasn't even sure was a joke, but I laughed along). "Also, the night before, try not to drink too much water. It'll help your face look nice and pretty with the makeup at the shoot. As for what to wear to the shoot, don't worry too much about it because we will provide the clothes for you there. But you might want to consider something zip-up or button-up. Try to stay away from anything that pulls over the head, so that it won't smudge your makeup too much. Do you think you can do that?"

"Um, sure." My head swirled with things I had to do.

"Excellent! So at eight o' clock in the morning on Thursday, just go to the track. You'll meet up with everyone there and they'll tell you what to do. Unfortunately, I'm busy and can't be there with you…"

"Wait," I said, snapping to attention. "You won't be there?" Suddenly I felt very scared of going it alone. It wasn't as if I had some special connection now with Hannah Benden or anything; it was just that so far she had been the nicest person at AthletiTech (although she was rather weird and too peppy for my tastes) and if she wasn't with me, I didn't know if I could take the abuse of a whole bunch of other people acting just like that bigot Lance. When Hannah was there, at least she'd find something nice to say to me once in a while. Without Hannah…I guess it'd just be Let's Bash On Lotus Day.

"No, I won't; I'm sorry, sweetie, but I've just got way too much stuff to take care of. But don't panic. Paul and his crew are all gentlemen and will take good care of you, I promise." I did not feel assured. "Now, remember. Your shoot is Thursday at eight o' clock and you are meeting everyone on the track. Did you write that down somewhere so you won't forget?"

"No, I can remember it…on the track? What track?"

Hannah Benden giggled again. Apparently I had asked a stupid question. "On the race track, silly!"

"You mean the IGPX track?"

"Yep, the very one! Anyway, I got to get going, but I hope you don't forget! Thursday, eight, track. Hope it goes well! I wish you all the best! Talk to you later, bye!" And with that, she hung up.

I snapped my phone shut and stared blankly ahead. The IGPX track? Why in the world would my photo shoot be on the IGPX track?

---zoOM---

Why in the world would my alarm clock be going off at…(pry open eyes to check)…seven-thirty in the morning? I groaned and turned away from the garish music that was playing on the radio. Some number two hit on the charts…like I cared. I usually never got up before nine unless I wanted to spend some quality time with the track. And I hadn't been planning on that today…

…or had I?

I sat up, now irritated as well as worried that I was forgetting something. Heck, I think I was irritated because I was now worried. I reached up and patted the monstrosity on my head that, when tamed, would be called my hair. Really, there was something really REALLY important that I seemed to be missing. Something that someone had repeated to me a lot last night because I still faintly remember it this morning.

"…here's the setting: fashion magazines line the walls now. The walls line the bullet holes…" the radio sang at me, emitting some old song from the 2000s. I guess it wasn't a number two hit after all. It sounded like something I'd enjoy listening to, which made the song impossible to be a well-liked modern song. I bobbed my head absently to the music, listening to more. "Come on, this is screaming photo op. Come on, come on; this is screaming…"

CRAP! Almost before I was consciously aware of myself moving, I had sprung out of bed and dived to try and find some clean clothing that had the least chance of embarrassing me. There had been something I was missing, something important, colossal, momentous.

My photo shoot. "Try not to be late," Hannah Benden's cheerful voice echoed in my ears. Fuck, I was going to be late.

Suddenly, abruptly, I stopped halfway through pulling up a pair of jeans. Technically, I could just not go. I could just fall back in my bed (after turning off the radio, of course), snuggle comfortably under the covers, and try to get some more sweet sleep. I could pretend that I overslept. I could pretend that I had contracted a sudden case of the flu. I could do anything, and just not go.

I didn't even know why I was in such a hurry now. Probably just last night, I had had waves and waves of revulsion against being a model. And now I was jumping out of bed, scared of being late to do just that? What had happened to me overnight?

But even as I scoffed my new half-time profession, I knew that I'd go, just like a good little girl. I'd go, even if I didn't completely know why. I yanked on my jeans and zipped the zipper, then rummaged through the closet to try and find a button-up blouse. Probably it had something to do with what Beckem said about not being ungrateful about a chance that only one in a million got. It seemed ironic really, that a chance that millions of girls around the world coveted had landed on the shoulders of someone who didn't want it. It made me feel selfish again and like a spoiled brat. Determined now to prove that I wasn't a brat, I spotted a white button-up blouse with a collar, pulled it out harder than necessary, and swung it onto myself with intensity. That was probably the fastest I'd ever done up that amount of buttons.

I stumbled next into the bathroom. I didn't look as bad as I had expected; the monstrosity actually resembled hair on the first try. I ran a brush quickly through it and then grabbed for my toothbrush.

After the teething brushing was completed, I went back to my room. I slipped my cell phone into a pocket and then did a circle standing still, trying to think if I had forgotten anything. With nothing coming to mind, I checked the clock (now at seven-forty six) and then left.

My legs worked overtime to get me to the track. I should have known that I wouldn't have been late by now, because the track was a less than ten minute walk from HQ at a leisurely pace. But still, a combination of Hannah's and my voice bounced around in my head, urging me to power walk or else I'd be late. So I did and as a result, I arrived at the entrance to the track with exhausted legs and lungs working hard. I finally allowed myself to slow down here, partly because I didn't want to appear out of breath and disheveled from the very beginning, and partly because I was beginning to feel nervous. What if I walked onto the track and no one was there? That would be the ultimate worst…

I need not have worried. When I stepped fully onto the track, it was bustling with activity, with people running around everywhere I looked. To my right, some of the bleachers had been made into what looked like little makeshift booths, the white curtains that was the walls of the booth billowing slightly in the morning breeze. A little farther down the track, there were other white curtained structures that were bigger and more important looking, because many people were scurrying in and out of them.

The next to catch my eye were the masses of equipment everywhere. There were huge lights on thick black tripods and other machinery that I couldn't put a name to. These were popular with the busy personnel too; every once in a while one of them would stop next to a piece of equipment and fiddle around with it, as if to get it just perfect. I followed the people as they traveled back and forth for a while until I saw the gigantic shadow that I should have recognized for what it was before I looked.

To my left, I saw to my utter surprise, was my mech. And it looked stunning. I don't think I had ever seen it look so gleaming, new, and beautiful. It towered over everyone, as if watching the proceedings with a bemused and apathetic eye. The early morning sun was shining directly behind it, making it seem like the mech was outlined in gold. I stepped out farther to take a better look at my mech. It almost looked like an angel, the light behind it setting the scene for its holy appearance. I was struggling to shut my gaping mouth when the appearance of another shut it for me.

"Lotus!" a figure waved at me, emerging from behind a leg of the mech. The sun behind the person was making he or she hard to identify, but as he or she walked closer, there was no doubting it.

"Brad!" I greeted back, my voice full of warmth that was otherwise absent from the slightly nippy air around us. "What are you doing here?"

Brad, my favorite mechanic, scratched his head and shrugged. "These crazy people couldn't settle for a computer image of her," he said, gesturing toward my mech. "They wanted the real thing so I had to bring her out of the garage. Eh, I guess some sunlight would do her some good anyway. Beautiful, isn't she?" He turned to look up at her and I did the same. We both stood in silence for a moment. Then Brad said, "My men did a good job patching and cleaning her up, eh? We didn't trust these photographer goons with touching her up, so we did it ourselves."

I was just about to ask him why my mech was out here in the first place when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned.

"Lotus Carmarand?" a kind, deep voice said. I looked up to see a middle aged man with salt-and-pepper hair. He was clean shaven and smiling down at me nicely, little wrinkles bunching up at the corners of his eyes. For some reason, I got the feeling from those wrinkles that he smiled often.

"Yeah, that's me," I said, not knowing what to expect. His smiled widened a little more as he took his hand off my shoulder and stuck it in front of me to shake instead.

"Paul Royce, your honored photographer this morning," he said graciously. I could hear a little touch of old chivalry in his voice, which made me smile. I placed my hand in his, which made my hand look pathetically small, and shook with him firmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you," he continued, "and by the look of that smile, I can already tell my job today will be easy." It took a moment of figuring to get that this was a nice compliment and I dipped my head a little.

"Thank you," I said.

"You are most certainly welcome," he replied. "Now, I think the ladies at hair and makeup are waiting for you, so go straight over to that little station over there." He pointed to the booths on the bleachers that I had first spotted. "I'll be getting everything all set out here, so when you are ready, I guarantee you that I'll be ready. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," I said, in an almost peppy voice. His guy Paul certainly brought out the best in me, I could see that already. He winked at me and then walked away toward my mech.

I turned and walked the opposite direction toward the little white curtained booths. When I got there, I saw three young-ish women sitting on various portions of bleacher, chatting to each other. One of them was sporting a smoking cigarette. When they saw me, they immediately stopped talking and just watched as I approached.

"Is this hair and makeup?" I ventured tentatively. The woman with the cigarette took one last long drag and then threw the cancer stick on the bleacher at her feet, using her stiletto shoes to squash it out of existence.

"Sure is," she said, giving me a smile that might have been strained. "Lotus Carmarand." I couldn't tell whether or not my name had been framed as a question so I nodded anyway.

"Well, sit on down," said another woman. She had platinum blonde hair that was almost white. It hung down straight in layers to just past her shoulders and the tips curled inward toward her face. She smiled at me, and I saw super white teeth between lipsticked, ruby red lips. She seemed nice and spirited from the sound of her voice and I felt a little more comfortable. She had unblemished white skin, but it was not as pale as Hannah Benden's. She patted what I now saw as a makeshift table/countertop before her and her co-workers. It was positioned so that I would sit on the bleacher step behind it while they did my beautifying.

The one who had been smoking got up and stretched, her lumpy grey sweatshirt sliding up a little to reveal a white flat stomach. She had a massive amount of red curly hair that was done up in a messy bun at the back of her head. On anyone else, it would have looked hideous, but she pulled it off because of the curliness of her mane. As I walked closer and maneuvered my way to where I was supposed to sit, I saw that she had freckles all over her face, but it didn't detract from her prettiness.

The woman that hadn't yet spoken to me turned and immediately opened up a huge kit of cosmetics. She was the only one that looked like she was working as she sifted through the mess of products, her dirty blonde hair pulled out of her eyes in a short ponytail that indicated that her hair wasn't long. She wore small rectangular glasses, with thick black rims that looked very stylish on her. Suddenly, she snapped her head up at me and narrowed her eyes. I was startled and sat down on my bottom a bit harder than I had planned to, but she just turned right back around to the bin of makeup. I realized a few seconds later that she probably hadn't been glaring at me; she had been scrutinizing my face to see what would look best on it.

"I'm Candy Stevens," the blonde one said and winked at me, her long black eyelashes looking to me like they would be awfully heavy to lift. "I'll be doing your makeup for the shoot today and that one busily rummaging around there is Monica Earnesta, the color and tone specialist. She'll also be helping with the makeup."

"I'm Kali," the red-head said, not bothering with a last name, "and I'm going to work with the only thing left: your hair. Although from the looks of it, that'll be easy."

I was about to point out to her that actually my hair adopted the persona of a monster in the mornings, but then I saw her pull out the hair tie in her own hair, which took a little while, and then retie it back in her bun, which took a while longer of slow intricate finger movement. Anything would be easy compared with the hair she has, I realized.

Without any further delay, the three ladies got to work. I felt like a painted doll while they work, Kali fussing with the hair while Candy and Monica did up the eyes just like that and then the lips, painted in a perfect shape. I had no idea what they were doing to me until they had finished and Kali handed me a hand mirror. Taking a deep breath, I peered into it at…myself?

"Aren't you just gorgeous?" Candy cooed, leaning over my shoulder so I could see her face in the mirror too, right next to my own. "And with the right clothes, you'll be hot."

My already tan skin seemed to shine bronze in the early morning light. It was smooth and clear. My eyelashes were thick and dark, curving up naturally. My eyebrows had been trimmed into perfect shape and my eyelids dusted with a light silver blue. My lips were glossy and full, not extremely red but a lively rosy pink. My hair wasn't anything fancy. Kali had straightened it and somehow under her hands, it seemed to shine with new luster and behave perfectly well. I had never been this done up before. The effect was startling and I had yet to find out whether it was good or bad.

"Off the to dressing rooms with you," Kali said, patting me on the back as if that would get me going. "You'll probably come back to us a couple of times throughout the day, so I suggest you get used to it." She gave me a small smile as I made my way back onto the track and started toward the big white building a little ways away, guessing that it was the dressing room. I was correct.

"There – you – are!" someone said to me as soon as I entered. I knew before I turned to look who it was. The British accent gave it away. "Those makeup artists certainly took their sweet time with you, didn't they?" I looked over at Lance and he momentarily stopped in the middle of rushing over to me, taken aback. Then he recomposed himself and strode over to me importantly. "At least they did their jobs." Lance looked away from me, but I still heard him mutter, "Otherwise, they'd be out of one."

I was ushered into a curtained off section of the tent with an assistant, who had already what I could only assume to be my photo shoot outfit in her hands. She helped me slip into them and I found then surprisingly well-fitting on me, although they looked positively tiny in her hands. Before I had time to admire the clothes I were in, the assistant pushed me back outside and Lance was waiting to accost me.

"Fine," he said, after he had given me an once-over. "It'll do for the first couple photos." How many photos are we going to take? I thought nervously. He put an arm lightly around my shoulders and steered me toward the opening. "Now what's important is the attitude, you understand? The clothes and the cosmetics can only do so much. So, I want you to look hot, all right?" How does one go about doing that? I felt like saying snidely. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut and just nodded. "You have to exude confidence and fearlessness, maybe even be a little condescending to the camera, but don't ever ever EVER be a brat. There is a fine line between being hot and being a brat and unfortunately, most models don't get it. I'm not giving you a choice though; even though you are an amateur, you are going to be perfect, understand?"

I barely had time to nod. The whole time we had been walking briskly toward my mech that was looming up on us. The breeze that blew by was chilly than before and I wondered why. Then I remembered that this idiot Lance had decided to truss me up in a miniskirt for the "first couple photos."

"Remember, hot. Not brat," he said as his parting advice. He pushed me forward a little and then walked toward the camera crew. I kept on walking toward my mech, not knowing what else to do, and felt relief when I saw Paul coming towards me.

"Well, then, supermodel. Ready?" he asked me. I smiled the best I could and then followed him to the set.

A/N: This one came pretty quickly, didn't it? I know. I'm proud of me too. Anyway, I didn't want to write about the whole photo shoot. This chapter is long enough already. But if you are disappointed, I'm sorry. I just wasn't inspired. Right now, I'm more inspired to write races, so don't blame me if I kind of rush to those. But there is another photo shoot that is scheduled to come up before the Edgeraid race, so expect that.

Does anyone remember when the IGPX festival thing was? You know, the one that Takeshi was really pumped about beating all the other Forwards in and Liz modeled in. I know what it's about, but I don't remember exactly when it is. If you remember, send me a message. Right now, I'm just going to stick it about halfway through the season. c:

Yay! Yay! Thanks for my reviews! I love you all.

Until next time...