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know?”
    “Exactly,” I agree, though inside I have no idea what he’s saying. He reaches for my chin.
    “If you don’t mind,” He says. I let him tilt my face this way and that. “You have a very nice silhouette. Grace often brings friends, but with you, perhaps we can –” He trails off and snaps his fingers. “Bianca!”
    A woman with a tight bun and beautiful green eyes saunters up. She wears a tie-dye dress. Ferdinand says something in Spanish to her, and then looks to me.
    “Bianca will help you try on a few pieces. If it’s alright.”
    “Sure.” I nod. Bianca steers me by the shoulders to the changing rooms. Grace has already changed into a dark orange shirt with gold stitching and short black pants. She gives me a thumbs up from the makeup chair, where an over-tanned man brushes her cheeks with blush. In a single practiced motion, Bianca hands me a soft lavender shirt stitched with metallic blue patterns. It’s gorgeous, and I have to fight against making a stunned noise. I step behind the screens and undress, pulling it over my head. It’s pure silk – so smooth against my skin I gasp.
    Bianca motions for me to come out and undoes a few buttons from the shirt. She rolls one sleeve up, eyes me for a second, and then calls out.
    “Ferdinand!”
    Ferdinand comes over and looks me up and down before clapping his hands.
    “I think we can use you for a few shots.”
    “I don’t know anything about modeling, though –”
    “That’s why I’m here!” He laughs. “You think I merely take pictures? No, I direct the model’s every look and movement. Let me experiment with you, yes? If it works it works, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”
    “Okay. If you’re sure.”
    “I am always sure, love. Now get to makeup, Ricardo will know what to do with you.”
    Ricardo has gentle hands and works wonders – I watch my face go from plain to amazing in a few minutes. My eyes are smoky and my lips are lightly glossed. My acne scars from high school are completely hidden by foundation. I look incredible. He brushes my hair, working in some foam to make it glossy and then pulling it into a high ponytail.
    Grace is the true professional – she makes languid poses in the sand and stretches sensuously. I try to memorize her movements but I know they’ll look stupid on me. She makes it look so easy. Ferdinand praises her and tells her to move a limb or give the camera a ‘darker’ look. I suddenly get nervous. I have no right to be here. I don’t even know what I’m –
    “Rose!” Ferdinand barks. “You’re up! Come here and drape yourself over Grace’s legs.”
    I skitter in the sand and Grace laughs, motioning to her calves.
    “Here. Lie on your side. Upside down a little. There you go.”
    “But what about my face?” I whimper.
    “Pretend the camera is someone you like,” She murmurs. “It usually works for me.”
    Lee. That’s who I think of, instantly. But I don’t know what I feel towards him. He’s handsome but too forward, and at the same time, has a soft vulnerability and mystery I want to see more of. The camera flashes and Ferdinand orders us in different positions.
    “More feeling, Rose! Are you a stone or a person?”
    ‘Someone you like,’ Grace mouths. I nod and think harder, let my face reflect my thoughts. I don’t like Lee, I think. But there’s something under his playboy wall, a person I’ve caught glimpses of, that I like better. There’s someone more real than the guy trying to get me to marry him for the money under it all. But he would never like someone like me – inexperienced, childish, argumentative. I’ve insulted him and called him names and cried, twice, in front of him. I’ve shown him weak, horrible sides of me. But I still want to get to know him better. Grandpa’s letter said he thought Lee was a good guy – and Grandpa was never wrong about those kinds of things.
    When the shoot wraps up, the sun is already setting. Grace and I thank everyone