Prodigal

~6~

My mind kept racing that night. Why was this freaking out about this? Why did I have to have all the answers? And how could I even obtain them if I couldn’t talk to anyone about this?

Okay, does this mean I can’t trust my dad? I always thought I could, but…

I was really tired, and I had to go into work that day. I walked onto set wearing big sunglasses. Dad always took me to set and sort of hung around, somewhat avoiding me, trying but failing to give me space while I was at work. He thinks he’s being protective but he’s sometimes makes me feel smothered. I hated to admit it, but sometimes I liked it. Sometimes.

Modeling agents told me I had a very fashion facial structure, and that once I was older, my body was more matured, my face would be defined and I’d be a great editorial and fashion model. But for now, I was stuck doing commercial and catalogue modeling. I liked it, but I was excited to go onto more dramatic modeling.

It was really creepy, because a modeling agent offered my parents a million dollars to conceive another child for modeling.

I started when I was eleven, and I signed with Target Australia. I shoot photos that go in the circulars that you find in Sunday papers. I do everything, from sitting on a couch with my “family” to playing football with my “dad” to opening presents under a Christmas tree. I almost always posed with people that would be my family and friends.

Today I was doing a shoot with a few other young teens my age, my friends that were at my birthday party, for back to school. We still had a couple months of summer left, but we were already doing photo shoots for back to school. I believe we were portraying middle school students.

I was taken to hair and makeup, and then given my back to school outfit. I wore some nice jeans, with a button down shirt that was only half tucked in. I then had on a baseball cap worn backwards. I was then given a skateboard and backpack. Myself, along with three other kids, also dressed up in cliché outfits, were standing, pretending like we were friends, walking and laughing into school.

We then changed outfits. I was given long prep shorts with a basic skull graphic t shirt. I was then brought to a set with the other three. The set was like a classroom, and we sat down in desks, pretending to write, then pretending to mess around, throw paper, that sort of thing.

Myself and a man in his forties were put in an outside setting set with fall leaves. We had a football that we were tossing around. That shoot was the most difficult, because I had to display the football, while throwing it, and smiling, while making it seem natural all at the same time.

Once the day was done, I was ready to go home, wash my face, and just be myself.

Whoever that may be.

Notes

It occurred to me that "tossing around a football" is a very American thing that you wouldn't see in Australia oops.