Brandi handed me the mail while I cooked. "You know, we should go out. I need to go shopping; I have an interview coming up and could use something... elegant."

"Where did you apply?"

She bounced on the balls of her feet, and grinned. "Well, it took a lot of thought, but I have a agent friend, and she sent in some of my photos to Curvy Q-tees. You know, the plus size boutique? And they've called me in for an interview!" She grabbed my arm and jumped up and down, threatening to make me drop the spoon I held.

It surprised me sometimes, how young and energetic she acted. It was like we were the same age, though she was the same age as James. She was curvy, but not my idea of a plus sized woman. Her curves were proportioned just right, and everything was tight, though bigger than average. She had that to her advantage.

"Christy, you should come with me! You're gorgeous-"

I groaned. "Brandi, please..."

She sobered, and put her hands on her hips. She glared at me. "How are you ever going to get back on your feet if you refuse to see yourself as an attractive woman. Neil was not crazy, you are amazingly beautiful! Now I'm taking you with me to that interview whether you want me to or not. Let me know when breakfast is ready, I'm going to watch TV."

She left the kitchen, and I rolled my eyes. She could be a little drill sergeant when she wanted to be, but inside she had a heart made of jelly beans. I could see why James was so into her; it was hard not to love her myself.

I set the spoon on the counter and sifted through the mail. I never got any, so I flipped through without much thought, but I caught the letter C at the end of the pile, and extracted the envelope. Sure enough, my name was on the front, the logo of the fashion company that had held the contest in the corner. My heart started beating faster, and I ripped the envelope open, pulling out the single sheet of paper it housed.

My shoulders fell after reading it though. Despite my beautiful design, they were writing to inform me that I had not been selected as a finalist for the contest. I crumpled the note and threw it in the trash, and sighed. I hadn't thought I would make the cut to begin with but... I had hoped... that was why I didn't get involved in contests! I stirred the eggs with such a heavy hand, some flew out of the pan, and I slammed the spoon on the counter.

I was useless! What was I good for? I thought I could make it in the fashion world, but my dreams had been crushed. There would be no fame for me, no recognition of my fashion.

"Chris?"

"I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

"What happened-"

"Nothing-"

"Christelle!" Brandi advance and laid a hand on my arm. "Tell me what happened."

So I did. And she hugged me. Told me they wouldn't know good fashion if it smacked them in the face. I laughed, and she smiled. "It's going to be fine. You'll find something you're amazing at, that other people notice."

After breakfast, Brandi forced me to dress and we left for a morning of shopping. She was looking for an appropriate outfit for her interview, and she suggested I look for a new dress for myself. It was no use arguing, she wouldn't take no for an answer, so I followed her into the first boutique, dripping the slowest enthusiasm. Brandi chose two dresses for herself and one for me, and we walked towards the fitting rooms. Deja vu.

"Alright, let's get this little number on you. Look, don't be so modest. We need to work on that slippery confidence of yours, Chris. You need to embrace the beautiful woman you are." I ignored her complement.

Two hours later, we were on our way home, each with a dress. That night we paraded our outfits for James. His enthusiasm for my dress softened my disinterest in it; softened my low opinion and loathing of myself.