Sammy in Italy (Single Wide Female Travels #2) by Lillianna Blake Page A

so short.  
    “Sh, just put on your dress.” Sue waved her hand at me.
    I noticed her left hand was tucked away as usual. The memory of her stories about bullying was a slap to my senses. Here was a woman who had overcome her insecurity about a birth defect, and I was worried about chubby thighs. How was I being an example to her? If I didn’t think I could walk the runway, how could she believe that she should be able to display her unique hand proudly?  
    “Okay—yes, I’ll put it on.” I grabbed the dress and attempted to pull it off the hanger. The feat was quite a struggle. I became so frustrated that I almost tore one of the straps.  
    “Here, let me.” Sue reached up with her left hand and was able to wriggle the sleeves off of the hanger. “It was stuck.”
    “Good thing you were here to help me.” I shook my head. “Really, I’m not always this much of a mess.”
    “Oh, you’re not a mess, Samantha. It’s okay to be nervous. But there’s no time to waste, so get changed. And remember, try not to fall off the stage.” She laughed.
    I didn’t. She meant the warning as a joke, but that was my worst fear.
    I looked back at the gaggle of models. They didn’t hesitate to reveal their flawless bodies. Could I really change in front of them? I tugged a section of the curtain forward in an attempt to give myself a bit more privacy.
    In the middle of changing, I heard a shriek, followed by several other shrieks. The curtain whipped back. Only then did I realize that when I’d pulled the curtain, I’d also revealed a few of the models who were changing. My cheeks burned hot.  
    “How did that happen?” The tallest model huffed. “Who is in charge here?”
    “Relax, Alia, it wasn’t that bad. I’m sure no one saw more than what we usually show off on the runway.” The woman beside her patted her back. “Try not to let it bother you.” She looked around Alia to me.
    I inched the skirt down over my thighs and looked away.  
    “That’s easy for you to say, Priscilla. You’re gorgeous. Why would you care if anyone saw you? But you know how wide my back is. It’s horrible. I might as well be a man. The clothes hide that.” Alia sniffled.
    I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. I was only a few feet away. Despite the fact that these women had absolutely nothing to hide, some seemed to be just as anxious at the thought of being exposed. I finished adjusting my dress and then walked over to the hair and make-up area. As a few of the models settled in beside me, I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead on the mirror. What must they think of me?  
    “You must be the special model Alistair mentioned. Samantha, is it?” Alia looked over at me as I nodded. “He’s never done this before, you know.”
    “Maybe he shouldn’t have at all.” Priscilla shook her head. “You look terrified.”
    “I’ll be fine when it’s over.”  
    “That’s what I tell myself every time.” Alia laughed. “Priscilla told me it would get easier each time, but so far that hasn’t turned out to be true.”
    “You have to learn how to relax, Alia. Once you stop caring what the audience thinks, you’ll own the runway.” She looked into the mirror at my reflection. “If they sense fear, they’ll eat you alive.”
    “Oh please, Priscilla, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” Alia rolled her eyes.
    One of the stylists ran her fingers through my hair. She spritzed it, fluffed it, then spritzed it again. Somehow those simple actions transformed my hair into a windswept look.  
    “I don’t think I’m being dramatic at all. It’s the truth.” Priscilla dipped her head down as the stylist behind her wrapped her hair up in a tight bun.  
    “But the audience is who we have to impress. How can we not want them to like us?” Alia sighed.  
    “Trust me, you have to go out there with the intention that you will tell them what they will like. If you can do that, then you will dominate the