The last thing I ever expected was to have a modeling career. I certainly wouldn’t have had one in my previous timeline as Matthew, but posing for a children’s clothing catalog was not anywhere on my bucket list. However, it was a rare opportunity for an eleven-year-old like myself to actually earn money, so it was worth exploring. If I was to undertake any of my plans in The Butterfly Manifesto, I would need more money. Besides, it was a break from the monotony of middle school life, and that was always worth the time.

  Two weeks ago, Mom’s friend Marie invited us to a preliminary audition at her office, where she and several of the members of the staff met with me. They snapped some photos of me, had me pose in a couple of outfits, and apparently I passed. I overheard Marie talking about how they were scrambling to find enough models for their upcoming catalog, so I think I would have gotten in no matter what. Seeing how Marie seemed to like me, and how she was coordinating everything, also guaranteed me a slot.

  The shoot took place on a Saturday in April. Because of child labor laws, minors were only allowed a restricted number of hours of work, so it was a flurry of activity on shooting day to make sure there were enough images for their quota. Mom and I arrived at the studio, which was in a warehouse west of Minneapolis. There were dozens of busy adults running around with spotlights, bundles of clothing, and clipboards. There were many white backdrops set up, as well as scenes of gardens and pools. The sounds of clicking cameras and construction echoed in the space, and the smell of hairspray filled my nostrils.

  There were about eight subjects, including myself, who were being photographed that day. The general idea was that we would be switching between outfits for the majority of the day to give a good variety of shots. I saw the other models and their respective stage moms fussing about and already practicing their poses. I got the sense that they were turning their noses up at me, since I wasn’t taking it nearly as seriously as they were. None of them struck me as particularly friendly, so I kept my distance.

  The modeling process was overwhelming, yet incredibly mind-numbing. There were stylists that fussed with my hair, and a crew that was responsible for getting my outfits lined up. They would dress me and send me to the photographer. “Look at the camera,” they would instruct. “Tilt your head to the right. Laugh at the camera. Sit up straight.” It was rather efficient, and once they had their shots I was sent back to the dressers and switched into a new outfit. I wore a pair of overalls, a summer dress, a rain coat; I lost track of what they were dressing me in and eventually I started operating on autopilot. Mom occasionally would grab me a water as I ran the gauntlet of clothes.

  During the lunchbreak, all of the kids were sat together and they served us sandwiches. All of us looked a bit tired, but we were only halfway through the day. I sat next to a blonde girl named Brittney with frizzled hair as I devoured my ham and swiss.

  “You must be new here,” said Brittney as she regarded me with an unimpressed look.

  “Yeah, this is my first day. I didn’t expect it to be so crazy.”

  Brittney huffed. “Well, that’s just how the job is. I’m a professional, you know. I’ve been doing this since I was six.”

  I nodded absently. “How nice for you.”

  “I have an agent, too. My mom and I will probably be going to New York or Los Angeles next year. I’m very high in demand.”

  I took another bite of my sandwich.

  Brittney continued. “You know, when you’re on set, you shouldn’t look so bored.”

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  I raised my eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  Brittney straightened up. “You have to have energy when you’re posing. That’s what makes a model stick out. Like I do.”

  I smirked in spite of myself. “Well, I sort of figured since it’s a ‘back to school’ catalog that they’d want me to look bored. I mean, they’re just paying me to stand there.”

  “Well, that’s what separates the professionals from the amateurs,’ she scoffed.

  I shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I’m a professional. It’s my first day. Besides, New York or Los Angeles is far too blue this time of year.”

  Brittney wasn’t sure how to process that last statement, as intended. She didn’t really say much else for the rest of lunch, which was fine by me. I had dealt with enough girls in middle school like Brittney, and I knew how to handle them. Vaguely knowledgeable and sarcastic seemed to work.

  After lunch, there was another flurry of camera shots. This time they did some group photos, having us wear different versions of the same outfit. I sat next to Brittney and another girl, with me in a blue dress, Brittney in red, and the other girl in yellow. We were in front of a set up that made us look like we were in a back yard.

  “Okay girls,” said the photographer, "pretend that you’re all best friends and you’re having a party. Big smiles!”

  To her credit, Brittney fired off a laugh that would swear was authentic if I didn’t know any better. I had to admit, this girl had the enthusiasm. I did my best to emulate her, making my smile as big as hers, as we acted as if we were having the time of our lives. We stopped and reset several times, but I merely stood in place as well as Brittney and the other girl did. They would touch up our hair or add a light application of makeup, and we would patiently wait until they started snapping photos.

  The afternoon led on like that, and I was asked to pose with pretty much all of the other kids at one point or another. As soon as I was done with one shot, I was hustled away to put on the next outfit. It was tough trying to look happy and smiling for so many hours, but I managed to push through. Eventually we reached the end of the day, and Mom was waiting for me to help me out of the party dress I had just posed in and to get me into my regular clothes.

  “So, how do you feel, sweetie?”

  “Blegh,” I croaked dramatically. “It was a lot harder than I thought it was. Do you think I did a good job?”

  “I was very impressed. Did you have fun doing it?”

  I considered it for a moment. “It was interesting, I guess. I wasn’t as into it as the other girls.”

  Mom raised her eyebrows with a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, and I’m definitely not a stage-mom. But the important thing is that you liked it.”

  I pulled my sweat shirt over my head. “I dunno, we’ll see.”

  Once I was dressed, Marie found us and ran over to speak to us. She seemed a little frazzled over the bustle of the day, but still as energetic as ever. “Maya, you were excellent today! Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure,” I responded.

  “Donna, this is quite a girl you have here. If you’d like, we’ll probably do the next round in about a month. I for one would love to see both of you again.”

  “Well, it was quite a day! I suppose it’s all up to if Maya wants to do it again.”

  “Oh, before I forget,” Marie said, shifting through her papers, “I’ll give you the check for today directly to save some time. I think I might be able to throw in a little extra if you decide to come back. Ah, here we are!”

  Marie handed my mother the check, and when Mom took a look at it her eyes bulged. “This is for just today?”

  Marie smiled as Mom faltered a bit. She passed the check over to me, and my eyes ran over the amount. It was my turn to stare like I had an electric shock. I don’t think I had ever had this much money when I was a kid, let alone after one day. My mind spun.

  I looked up at Marie. “Um, next month, you said?”