Alaska

Alaska
. . .

"Well, I see you've lost a bit of weight." Daniel grinned, making me spin around to see the progess at all angles. I feel as if progress had been made but he's the real judge. "You'll be good to go in no time. Maybe we can even start you off with a Selena Gomez look. She's of Hispanic heritage, isn't she?"

Right, there's always a reminder of who I may be compared to when I become famous. Not just to the former Disney star, but to everyone on the red carpet in general. Each and every person has made a statement of some kind. I can't exactly be the new Lady Gaga when I can barely walk in heels higher than an inch. Which is why Daniel brought a pair of bright red stilettos just in my size to try on.

"Shoulders back and push your chest forward a little bit. It'll make you look bustier. If we have to we'll take a trip down to Victoria Secret to fix you up good. They have some nice heavy padded bras we can match you up with." Daniel explained, brushing his manicured nails through his hair, exhaling deeply as if all the talking was tiresome to him. "We still have a lot of work to do."

By that he means my overall look. I'm pretty average. My skin is good. I don't get too many pimples exept for the time of the month and that's passed so no need to overdo the coverup or blush to hide those unwanted bumps on my skin. My legs have been getting a bit more muscular with the exercise. The only good thing that came with that happened to be the fact that my calves look amazing. With the yoga pants on Daniel can't see that bit of progress but I'll tell him later.

"You may want to dye your hair when we get you out there finally. I think beach blonde would look alright. Your skin is pretty fair for a California girl. Or we can dye it brown and get you a tan; relase you with a beach themed album. When summer comes kids will have more time to spend listening to music then when they have all the stupid studying to do." 

And so, Daniel drones on about my future and how he'll make it happen. He promised to make me a star. If that doesn't happen, he'll just end up breaking me instead.

*

The heels hurt my feet when I step out of them but I know if Daniel finds out I took them off ahead of time, he'll be mad at me. Or even worse. He'll be disappointed. Which is the only reason why I wore them home. Driving in heels is hard but I managed not to run anyone over or get any speeding tickets for having an unusual heavy foot.

So far, so good I'd say.

My dad, however, didn't seem to like the fact that my heels were higher than my current GPA. I had been expecting a comment and odd look but not necessarily in length that he had given.

"If you spent as much time working on your schoolwork rather than walking around in shoes designed for brothel members, you'd probably be doing better than you actually are. I'm not saying this because I want to push you but because I know you can do better." Dad complained, each word leaving his mouth like they were laced with venom. 

I, on the other hand, did spend time studying. Not a whole lot, but enough to pass that AP test I have Tuesday. Daniel told me that nobody would really care if I have book smarts after I get famous as long as I sound intelligent in interviews.

"Go to your room and come out when dinner is being served." He warned, not wanting backtalk. Not that I would've said something anyway. I was done talking. 

a/n—I honestly wasn't sure if I spelled "calves" right. Calves are baby cows and I meant the calf muscle but because I was talking about two, I couldn't use the singular form. So I hope that wasn't confusing to you guys.