You've just been... DISCOVERED!

The human heart can continue to beat outside of your body. Mine can't even beat inside. How could my life have gone from terrible but still manageably invisible to…

HORROTOPIA!

Okay, that didn't come out cool. Yeah, not at all. Let's think up something fear-inspiring, not sleep-inducing. Hmmm… how about HORRIFYING? Okay, that's a word. I think I should never take a career in marketing. I totally suck at being word-creative.

Right now, I'm trying to analyze one thing.

What did he just say?

"You, my dear, might be the next face of world fashion, munchie," He said, walking around me in spinning circles. I tried to keep up with him.

"Harry, she's—"

"Hush!" Harry cried, doing a little waltz. "I know art when I see it, and you, dear, are a work of art!" He grabbed my hair and ran it through his palm. "Greasy, I detect, but… strange. Redhead, fiery spirit. You're just what Artemis wants." His voice dropped a notch lower. "What it needs." I looked at Justin, and he shrugged.

"Nice style."

"They're Tori's."

"Oh, I'm talking about the shirt." He peeked closer. "And is that Edward I see? With a daisy tattoo across his cheek?"

"I doodled on my clothes," I said, looking down. "Sorry."

"Oh, my dearie smoothies Maraddona, you are… exquisite!" He yelled, holding out his hand as a small, chubby lady danced her way up to us. "Hand me the glasses, my little sprite." She placed them in his palm, and he leaned close, nearly peeking right into my eyes. I shot Justin a look, and he smiled.

Help!

"A little on the short side, but that will do!" He gasped. "Oh, dearest Cinderella, you are going to the ball!"

"The ball? Literally or figuratively?"

"Superlatively, my dear! Anyway you choose to see it."

"But I… we… what's going on?"

"A discovery, darling! The discovery of the century, and I must say that in all my years of fashion, you are a first!"

"A first… what?"

"Flawless raw beauty! Condensed talent! Oh, the sight of you brings tears to my dainty eyes!" He moaned, his face twisting from a cry to a frown. "Clairie, ma chere, would you get the camera, dear?" I froze. Were they taking mug shots? Were they planning to arrest me? It was only a hat. And a table, but still—a hat!

I'm going to jail over a HAT?!

Could my life LITERALLY get even worse in one day?!

Desperate for my life, I rattled, "Are the shots really necessary? I have done absolutely nothing bad, I can assure you. Apart from the few candies I stole off the receptionist's desk—I'm so sorry, I didn't know they were daisy-proofed—and the hats were a mistake, believe me. I didn't mean to ruin your catwalk show. I… I mean I could make more hats for you, with sticky ends and glue, but your customers won't notice, right? I… I mean, since you…"

"Cherry pie adore, what on earth are you rattling on about?" Harry asked. Justin leaned against the wall in all his heavenly beauty, chuckling beneath his breath and watching me with the most amused expression.

What is GOING ON?!

"Relax, Daisy, they're not mug shots," he chuckled. "And the candies are definitely NOT daisy-proof, I can assure you. They're just photo shots—shots they'll present to the modeling agency board for approval. Not that it actually exists in the fashion world. We just like to be formal, that's all."

Modeling. Agency.

Fashion.

No! This can't be happening. This… this has been Tori's lifelong dream. We used to do catwalks on her bedroom floor since middle school, with me doing most of the clapping and crazed autograph-begging fan stuff because I couldn't walk a step in 0.5-inch heels without tripping all over her room. And her, apparently.

THIS JUST CAN'T HAPPEN! I'm the ugly duckling. Tori's the swan—the beautiful, stunning, and fashionable swan. I can't even match black with anything, even when black matches EVERYTHING! I'm the dorky geek who wears mismatched socks, topped with sackcloth on a school dance night, all because I thought the theme 'different and unique' rhymed with 'freakish and weird'. I might be the worst typical high school girl to ever exist, but I know one thing.

I'm not a bad friend.