She Came to Conquer

Chapter Six: The Modeling World

The first time I was rejected at a casting call, it stung more than I’d anticipated.

“Your look isn’t what we’re going for,” the casting director said, barely glancing up from her clipboard.

I nodded stiffly, trying to keep my composure, but the walk back to Patricia’s apartment felt like trudging through quicksand.

“What happened?” Patricia asked when I walked in, dropping my bag by the door.

I shrugged, collapsing onto the couch. “They said I wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “So? You’re not going to let one ‘no’ stop you, are you?”

I sighed. “It’s not just one. This keeps happening.”

“That’s the game, Lizzie,” she said, plopping down beside me. “Rejection is part of the process. You’ve gotta toughen up.”

I leaned my head back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m trying.”

Patricia grinned, nudging my shoulder. “Good. Because I have a feeling you’re going to be great. You just need to keep showing up.”

Patricia wasn’t wrong.

Rejection became a familiar sting, but with each one, I learned something new. At first, I let the criticism crush me, but over time, I began to see it for what it was: an opportunity to grow.

“You’ve got the height, but you need more presence,” one casting director said.

“You’re too stiff. Relax in front of the camera,” another advised.

I absorbed their words like a sponge, practicing poses and expressions in front of the mirror every night. I watched videos of professional models, studying how they moved, how they owned the space around them.

Slowly, I started to see improvement.

One evening, Patricia burst through the door holding a takeout bag in one hand and her phone in the other.

“Guess who just won twelve grand?” she said, her grin so wide it looked like it might split her face.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Me!” She dropped the bag on the counter and waved her phone in the air. “I placed a bet on this random football match and bam! Twelve thousand dollars, just like that.”

I blinked at her. “You’re gambling?”

“It’s not gambling,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s strategic investment.”

“Strategic investment,” I repeated, unimpressed.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” she said, grabbing plates from the cupboard. “I’m telling you, Lizzie, it’s an easy way to make some extra cash.”

I shook my head, folding my arms. “I don’t think so.”

Patricia shrugged, unbothered. “Suit yourself. But when I’m rolling in money, don’t come crying to me.”

Despite her antics, Patricia was a good roommate. She always knew how to lighten the mood and push me forward when I felt like giving up.

“Guess what,” she said one morning as I poured cereal into a bowl.

“What?”

“I found another casting call for you. Local fashion brand, looking for fresh faces.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she said, sliding the details across the table. “You’re going to nail it.”

.

.

.

I didn’t nail it, but I didn’t fail either.

The boutique owner, a kind woman in her forties, smiled warmly as I walked into the audition room.

“Let’s see your walk,” she said, gesturing toward the small runway set up in the center of the space.

My heart pounded as I took my first step, but I focused on everything I’d practiced—my posture, my stride, my expression.

When I finished, the woman nodded thoughtfully.

“You’re a little rough around the edges,” she said. “But I like your look. How would you feel about doing a test shoot?”

“Yes,” I said quickly, barely able to contain my excitement.

The test shoot was a whirlwind. The photographer gave me pointers between clicks, adjusting my posture and guiding my expressions.

“Relax your shoulders,” he said. “Chin up a little. There you go.”

By the end of the session, I felt like I’d run a marathon, but the photographer smiled as he reviewed the shots.

“You’ve got potential,” he said. “Keep working on it.”

It wasn’t a contract or a major gig, but it was progress.

That night, I sat in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.

For the first time, I saw something more than the shy, invisible girl I’d always been. I saw someone who was learning, growing, and slowly becoming the person she wanted to be.

“You’re going to make it,” I whispered to myself.

Patricia poked her head into the room, holding two cups of tea. “Talking to yourself again?”

“Maybe.”

She laughed, handing me a cup. “Keep it up. You’ve got big things ahead, Lizzie.”

Her confidence in me was contagious, and for the first time in a long time, I believed it too.