Heels And Feels

All Markyla could see was girls, a lot of girls. She could also feel hands, a lot of hands. They were applying makeup on her face, she felt them at her heels, tying shoe laces, and on her hair, packing a ponytail too tight; she could feel her brain cells shrink in fear. Everyone was busy. Tonight was the audition, and tonight, she had to do her best. Her stomach growled and she went red with embarrassment. "Well, that better not happen when you're holding the mic." Jewel eyed her. Markyla shut her eyes and said a silent prayer. She really didn't need that to happen but she was hungry. It had been twenty hours since she had something to eat and it was telling on her. But it was an important night, and she needed to fit into that dress, and walk onto that stage and outshine eighty other girls to make it to the top twenty that would be shortlisted for Blaze fashion. She struggled to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she looked good. She knew, but they were other girls who looked stunning without having to do much. She looked around the room and couldn't tell the difference between the makeup artists, the models, the stylists, and the cleaners. Until all one hundred girls stood in line backstage and the music began to play. There was a loud noise, but it wasn't her stomach this time. It was her heart thumping loudly within her chest as she struggled to breathe. This was the moment, and soon she would be on that runway. The first girl made her move, and then the second, and Markyla began the countdown in her mind. She was sixty-seven on the list and as the line grew shorter, her eyes grew wetter. It had taken a lot for her to stand where she was. The hundred short list had taken so much effort, she had spent years building her social media pages, and she had gotten rejection emails she had lost count of, but she had made it, and not just for any brand, for Blaze. Blaze. It was three girls before she hit the runway and she looked at her Blazer and smiled. She has specifically worked with the stylist on this one, to her, Blaze deserved a blazer, and she looked chic. The flowered lace that cut diagonally through her stomach, onto her thighs exposed a good amount of well-polished skin. She shook her nerves, raised her chin, and walked through the open curtains. The lights, the cameras, the crowd. She struggled to not swallow as she made her strides through the runway while eyes explored her body. The runway seemed longer than she remembered when they had their practice but she pushed the thought out of her mind and let herself enjoy the moment, the music, the realization that she was closer to her dreams. It took three minutes but she was backstage again, her face radiating joy. There were hands holding up five fingers when she went back in, and she raised hers to meet them all. It was time for retouch and then the final announcement. She took a quick pee, and raced back down to await the result announcement. There were a few speeches, and sooner than expected, the new ambassadors of Blaze Fashion were called in, one after the other. The list went by quickly and Markyla felt her heart sink deeper in her chest with every new call. Twenty is not a large number, and when the fifteenth name was called, she sighed softly, preparing herself for disappointment. Sixteenth, and then she heard it, “Please welcome, Markyla George.” As she walked onto that stage, and stared at all the dignitaries, and the other girls who had made it, Markyla couldn’t contain her excitement. She wanted to scream, she wanted to jump, and she wanted to shed tears of joy but she maintained her composure and stood there with a huge smile on her face. It was official, she made it. The signing of the agreement came next, followed by a lot of photographs. Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry anymore, she just wanted to celebrate, but there was no one to celebrate with.