Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to any works of fiction, books, programmes or movies mentioned in this.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was going to be a oneshot. It really was. I had no intention to continue this story at all.
Then I got the review.
Just one review for the story, which is normally a sign to me to give up on the fic. But this one review was so nice and encouraging (Thanks so much!) that I decided to make a full fic about it. Since the first chapter was going to be a oneshot, this next chapter might seem a bit strange continuing from one filled with flashbacks. But I've figured out a plot and stuff for the fic now. ALSO NOTE: I know the summary said no cullens, but Rosalie and Alice do now exist in this story, though not as vampires or cullens and not as sisters. Plus Edward doesn't exist in this fic.
NO pairings intended in this fic.
Anyway, I'll stop babbling now. Nematocera, the kind reviewer who told me I should continue, I dedicate the following chapter to you.
Thanks for the review. :)

The loft had become quite familiar, though we'd only been staying there for a week. Still, it felt oddly like home as we collapsed into it after a long day receiving makeovers. The shorter, amber hair differed drastically to my signature "haystack-of-split-ends" style, but I was looking forward to adjusting to the cut. Several of my fellow competitors were less happy; while Angela (a quiet and bookish tall girl not unlike me who had proved to be a good friend) was pleased with the darker brown waves she had received and a somewhat annoying girl named Jessica was lauding her newly straightened, platinum blonde hair over some of the other girls, there were still ongoing tears, especially from Lauren whose blonde hair had been dyed almost black. In my opinion the makeover suited her, but the girl would listen to no one and instead continually moaned about the stupidity of makeovers with an equally upset girl named Rosalie, whose blonde hair had been submitted to scissors and taken to a short bob.
"At least you have something to work with!" she sniffed heavily as Angela and I passed them on the lounge. Angela sighed at the snivelling girls as we crossed into one of the three rooms provided. Having three rooms meant that three rough cliques formed in the house: the quiet girls, which consisted of Angela, myself and two girls called Alice and Irina; the confident girls, who were Jessica, a set of twins called Tanya and Kate, a plus-size model named Siobhan and a dark skinned girl named Zafrina. Then there was the other room that consisted of the inevitable bitches; Lauren, Rosalie, and a particularly cruel girl named Victoria. Prior to this week there had been one other girl in our room by the name of Maggie, but the shy and tiny girl failed to do well in the last week's photoshoot. She had been nervous to pose in a bikini, and as a result had landed in the bottom two with Lauren. Though it sounded mean, Angela and I had crossed our fingers that it would be Lauren to leave. But unfortunately, we found that our friend was the one sent home, and a gleeful Lauren lauded her salvation over us. Now Angela and I sighed as we noticed Maggie's empty bed in our room. Irina had already retired to the room, and was sitting on her bunk, fingering a lock of her new hair extensions and smiling slightly; her short, blunt bob had been transformed so that it hung to her waist, though it was still pin-straight and white blonde.
"Hi." she said quietly, looking up slightly and smiling at us. We gave her a polite "Hi," back before both finding the way to our beds. There were two sets of bunks and one single in our room; Maggie had claimed the single bed that now lay empty in her absence; Irina and I took the top bunks, while Angela and Alice took the bottom. I climbed the ladder to my own bunk, which I had already transformed into a mess; a number of clothes were strewn over the rails, while several battered and cherished books I couldn't bear to leave at home were tucked in odd corners of the crumpled sheets. I flipped open one of the said books to the dog-eared page I was currently reading and plunged into the fictional world that it provided. As I did, Irina straightened up, checking her watch.
"Well, it's my time to use the phone." She announced brightly. "I'd better go now, or Victoria will come screeching in here waving the schedule in my face." There was unanimous eye-rolling at the memory of Victoria's domineering phone schedule she'd enforced on us; somehow, she'd managed to scrape an extra ten minutes onto her turn, much to our disapproval. I didn't mind, though; I'd been given permission by the host to use my mobile when I needed it due to the crisis at home... I cringed slightly at the memory and rolled over on the bed, the auburn layers of my hair that the stylist had carefully blow-dryed into shape swishing over my face slightly.
"Bella?"
Angela's quiet voice came drifting up from the bunk below mine. Her face appeared a moment later as she stood on the rungs of the ladder to my bed.
"Are you alright?"
I sighed slightly and propped myself up on my elbow to face her. Of all the girls in the loft, Angela had been the most supportive when I heard that Charlie had been hospitalised. Even Irina and Alice were a little shocked and slightly disapproving when I decided to continue the competition rather than go to my father. But although I knew I seemed heartless, Angela understood my reasons. I confessed to my roommates what my parents had said, and how both of them had told me to stay in the competition. They all understood, but even then Angela was still the most supportive. So when she asked me if I was alright, I knew that she would, once again, understand.
"I just... miss them." I sighed, and both of us knew the them I was referring to. "I'm just wondering- WAS it the right choice to stay here?" On the word choice, my voice broke slightly. Angela smiled warmly, and hauled herself fully up onto the bed.
"Of course you made the right choice." she told me soothingly. "Imagine how your father would have felt if you quit because of him. At least he'll have something to look forward to."
"Yes," I murmured with another sigh. "I guess so."
I returned Angela's smile, and she hopped down onto the ladder.
"When Irina's phone time's up, I'd better call Ben." Ben was Angela's steady boyfriend who had proposed to her just before she left. Angela was always eager to phone her fiance; the two of them had a sweet, innocent love and were able to joke with each other. Angela lit up at the prospect of phoning him, and I envied her cheerful life.
To our surprise, the door flew open and Irina returned from the phone extremely early, looking rather irritated.
"My family were having a dinner party." she groaned as she flopped down on her bed, her newly elongated hair fanning out on her pillow in strands of silver. "They told me to phone again tomorrow and tell them then. And Laurent wasn't particularly supportive." she rolled her eyes as she imitated her boyfriend. "What did zey do to your hair? Oh. Long hair? Does it feel fake? Well, I suppose you can take out ze extensions when you come home eef you want. Honestly- not even any compliments, let alone conversation?" she tugged a strand of her extensions lightly. "It doesn't feel fake or anything. Stupid Laurent- I honestly would ditch him if I didn't love the moron so much."
Angela had already approached the door. "Well, it's my turn on the phone now." she said lightly, exiting. I wondered idly what the others were doing as I flipped my book back open; I hadn't seen Alice in a while, which was odd for someone who had such a notable presence. While she got along with us better, she was the most outgoing in our room, and I was surprised she hadn't made friends with the confident girls. But I'd thought too soon: the door swung open and Alice danced into the room.
Alice was very short and below regulation model height, which meant that her entrance into the competition was heavily considered and deliberated on before Tyra decided that it wouldn't matter: she could bend the rules and allow Alice in as a petite model.
Alice grinned at me as she entered now. One of the most stunning girls in the competition, she was very slender with very pale skin and, in a startling contrast, black hair- when looking at her, I was often reminded of Snow White. On entering this competition she'd worn her hair long, but Tyra had often commented on how it exaggerated how short she was, and evidently 'fixed' it during the makeover: she now had short, choppy hair that was a 'fashionably messy' pixie cut, and a 'cute' fringe over her eyes. Alice had not been upset one bit, and grinned as they hacked the ebony locks off. Perching gracefully on the end of her bunk, she continued to grin at me until I couldn't help mirroring her expression.
"What?"
Alice shook her head. "I can't get over how good that hair looks on you."
Across from me, Irina laughed. Alice was even more excited than I was about my makeover: when it was revealed (her hair had already been finished by then) she had half-leapt at me, squealing and playing with my hair.
I hadn't expected any less.
I hid a small smile at the last comment, letting my head sink into my pillow and scrutinising one of the locks that fanned in front of my eyes.
"Mm." I murmured as a slightly belated response. "I like it too, but I'll definitely have to get used to it."
This was true; while I did really like my hair, it would still be strange for me to brush much shorter, layered hair (though it would probably be easier now it was shorter, especially with the new brush I'd received at the hair salon. When I had my old hair, It would get so tangled I wouldn't even bother) and the colour was different too; I'd have to be more careful about what colours I wore now, to prevent them clashing with my hair. Still, I didn't mind...
A shrill beep from my cell phone jerked me up, and I scrabbled in my pockets for it. A quick check at the caller ID told me it was Charlie, and heart thudding quickly.
"H-hi?" I said shakily into the receiver. I heard Charlie's voice in the background.
"Hey, kiddo." He sounded so unusually quiet for him that I wanted to cry out- was he getting weaker? But he told me that he was healing...
"So, what model-stuff did you do today?" he laughed, but his laugh was a bit more subdued than usual.
I tried to smile, then remembered that he couldn't see me- I could grimace all I liked. "We had makeovers today."
"And?" Oddly enough, Charlie didn't seem to be feigning interest for my sake as he usually did- he seemed to genuinely care.
I sighed a little. "They chopped it to about my shoulders and layered it. And I'm not brunette any more, either." I paused a little for effect. "I'm now a redhead."
I could almost see Charlie's smile as he said the traditional parent words; "You'll always be my beautiful little girl, no matter what."
I felt tears slipping into my eyes. "Thanks, Dad." I choked.
"So, honey, do you like the new hairstyle?" he asked chirpily. "Do we get to see it?"
I tried to squeeze humour into my voice. "Oh no... no spoilers! But yes, I do like it. And I am sorry that I can't send you a picture, but it's complicated. Tyra doesn't want anyone to see until the event is televised. Not that I don't trust you, but..."
Charlie laughed. "I understand, kiddo. It's gonna be hard imagining my little baby girl looking like that now. I bet you look lovely, though."
"Thanks." I repeated in barely a whisper. "Give Mom my love, now." I regained some strength. "And don't go posting spoilers on the internet!"
"If you insist." Charlie joked. "Love you, baby."
Then there was a click, and I was left with the phone in my hand and a grave expression on my face.
I didn't understand it. Somehow, the more faith Charlie had in me, the worse I felt.

Groggy and aching to crawl back into bed, I awoke at the mandatory time. We could never be too careful in our loft- Tyra mail could pop up when least expected. Once again, I was one of the last in the bathroom and ended up skipping my shower. I'd been advised to avoid washing my hair for 24 hours anyway, to prevent the dye from fading, and I didn't exactly relish the thought of the inevitably freezing water (the heat usually only lasted the first three or so girls, but I doubted that it had even stretched that long this time; Victoria and Lauren had fought their way to the shower first, and intentionally liked to take long, lavish showers so that they could use up all the water before we could got there). So after brushing my incredibly sleek hair (and wondering what on earth the stylists had done to my scraggly locks) and scrubbing my face, I clambered onto a chair in the kitchen. Alice was already dressed, her choppy hair styled perfectly, flitting around the kitchen whilst making breakfast for Irina, Angela, herself and I. We'd already told her she didn't need to do that, but she adored being helpful.
"I'm making eggs and toast," she told me, cracking an egg on the side of the pan and pouring it in. "How many eggs?"
"Just toast, thanks." I yawned, too tired to bother with eating much. Alice said nothing, just whipped some bread from the toaster and presented it to me on a plate. Thanking her, I dragged some jam across it with a knife and sunk my teeth in when a call from the sofa startled me.
"Tyra mail!" Zafrina yelled in her deep, rich voice from the lounge. Alice neglected frying eggs for a split second, as we all raced from the open plan kitchen to the huge poster of Tyra banks, the screen below flashing with an animated message that slowly crawled across the screen. This message was often the cause of loud screams, especially the previous day's message: To be a top model, you must CUT to the chase. Be ready at eight o'clock, and be SNIPPY. Which clearly meant makeovers. But now the message was rather cryptic; To succeed in the future, you must look to the past. Make sure you're ready at ten o'clock.
There was a large amount of consideration afterwards, in which several girls tried to figure it out (while Alice danced back to the kitchen to stop the eggs burning).
"It's obviously a photo shoot," Rosalie sniffed, tossing her hair and wincing slightly at the shorter length. "We're probably dressing up as famous models from History. You know, to be a model, you have to be smart as well as pretty, something that..."
I ignored her long rant and, with a grumble, went back to my toast.

The limo- a sleek white creation with an ultra-modern theme- pulled up in front of the apartment building. Piling into the leather seats and looking around at portraits of past Top Model winners, we all contemplated the upcoming challenge or photo shoot. While Rosalie's theory was, admittedly, plausible we still scraped around together to figure out new possibilities. A museum? A historical photo? By the time we pulled up, we were all bursting to get outside and see what was to come. Yet the outcome was sorely disappointing.
"Stairs?" A few of the girls scoffed. We'd parked outside a deserted building, one that may have been a school at one time. There wasn't really anything of interest, except an exceptionally high block of faded concrete stairs. But before we could contemplate whether or not that was the location for our next shoot, a familiar man stepped in front of us, and a few of the more cheerleader-type girls screamed. Jay Manuel looked the same as usual; same large smile, same unnaturally light, spiky hair, same hints of pre-shoot excitement that he'd worn at the last shoot. All of these signs pointed to one thing; another shoot, and another upcoming elimination.
"Hi girls," he cheerfully hinted. "Now, as you can see, we're at a set of stairs. And, this is the destination for your next photo shoot! Now, your Tyra mail told you about looking to the past," he gestured with his hand. "And here with us today are some very special guests who will be posing with you for today's photoshoot."
Anticipation welled up inside me, and I bit my lip. You must look to the past... a slightly exciting hunch was beginning to grip me, and it was confirmed when twelve women descended the staircase, and an earsplitting scream rose up from a majority of the girls.
"I'm sure you all remember these girls!" Jay grinned, and we did. I'd never actually watched much top model in my life, but between rounds of auditions I'd sat down and watched as many youtube re-runs as I could, and I definitely knew these girls. Some of the most memorable contestants from some of the past cycles, my jaw dropped when I saw them. As my eyes crossed over them, I tried not to let out a silly-girl squeal when I spotted Allison Harvard there; she'd always been inspiring, mainly because of her individual personality and lack of ditziness. Her huge blue eyes looked over us, and I crossed my fingers that I'd be able to pose with her.
A few screams drew me back into the show, and I realised the Jay was introducing some "super-famous" photographer that I'd never heard of in my life.
"So, during makeup, you girls will be assigned a past contestant to pose with, and the theme of today's shoot is 'looking back at the past and towards the future.' So I want to see lots of determined looks, nostalgic eyes, admiration," he waved his hands around as a silent etcetera. "Now, makeup's up there, so let's get started!"
And covering my ears to block out the huge scream from Jessica's clique, we darted up the stairs. Most of the girls were excited, but I was still riveted with nerves. I wasn't exactly perfect at facial poses, and though I was called fifth last week, I wasn't sure how I could get 'nostalgic eyes', or how I could force a determined look, but I'd just have to force myself through again.

I couldn't get eliminated this early.

Getting makeup done was rather a sluggish ordeal, especially today. The "natural look" seemed to take even longer than a less subtle makeup look, and I tried to minimise my fidgeting, a difficult task due to the numbness in one of my legs. Dressed in a simple all-black outfit, I looked around at my friends and roommates getting their hair and faces done up. Victoria was the first to be finished, her wild, red hair (hair that had been shoulder length until makeovers, where it tripled in size, thickness and length) scraped back into a huge ponytail. She stalked around like a queen, looking down her nose at us.
"I get to pose with Bianca, from cycle 9." she announced matter-of-factly. "You know, I think I'm just like her- except that I'm going to win, of course."
Irina, who was next to me, and I simultaneously rolled our eyes.
Just as a blow-dryer was forcing irritating heat over my hair (and into my face), Jay approached me.
"So, Bella- I barely recognised you, by the way; I love the makeover!- ready to go?" he gave me a plastic grin.
Probably not.
"Yeah," I mumbled softly, though it wasn't true at all; I was petrified of failing in the shoot, and disappointing my family.
"Now, the other girls are going to be really jealous of you," he broadcast. "You get to pose with someone who made it very far in her cycle, and someone who has a very large fan base."
My eyes widened, and I dared to hope that it was Allison. But there was a slight twinge of disappointment when Jay told me that the girl was from cycle 10- obviously, not Allison. Still, I was pleasantly surprised when he told me I would be posing with Katarzyna Dolisnka, someone who would have been my second choice.
However, it was nerve wracking walking onto the set and having to pose with someone who was now a professional model. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip and chewed, a childish habit that had always resurfaced whenever I was nervous. Posing with someone who worked for renowned designers and had Tyra admit she was jealous of her looks would be difficult; I was sure that I would end up looking like a smidgen in the background while Katarzyna looked glorious in a professional pose. I hesitated on the stairs in front of the cameras, hands beginning to tremble a little.
Jay called me up chirpily, and I slumped forward, feeling awkward and out of place. The courageous feeling that had welled up in me during makeovers subsided completely, and I tugged on my hair slightly. For the first time since it was cut, I missed the tangles; they were something to grip and pull at a little when I was nervous to take my mind off things; now my hair was silky, my hands slid through it easily.

It was only when I heard Jay's distinct voice that I remembered to pull it together, for fear of getting in trouble. But to my extreme relief, he wasn't talking to me; he was having a spirited catch-up with Katarzyna like there was no tomorrow. It was only when I approached that he pulled his head away from her and looked directly at me.
"So Bella," he told me again, just as he had in make-up. "When you're ready, we can start. If you have trouble, I'll direct you around the set and give you some tips."
And then, in a whirlwind of cameras and flashes, the photo shoot started. It really was harder than it would look on television; I felt heat rising in me as I struggled to think up poses. I'd struggled in the last shoot, too, but some of the other girls had crashed and burned completely, leaving me relatively safe. But now I wasn't sure if they would, and nightmarish fantasies of being the second girl eliminated crossed my mind. I forced myself to remember some of Jay's earlier words: Nostalgic eyes... Determined looks... Admiration...

Well, I had no idea how to do "Nostalgic eyes", and I wasn't very determined at the moment. But admiration would be an easy part to play; I did admire the model in front of me, and it would be easy to exaggerate that and put it into a photo. I gave it a try, staring up at the model with respect that wasn't hard to drum up, and to my delight received a compliment from Mr Jay. Some of the terror inside me dimmed, and I tried to create poses that would work with my facial expressions, as well as coordinating with Katarzyna. When it was announced that I had one more frame, I channelled as much effort as I could into it, and Jay seemed to like the result. I was sent back to makeup, where I conversed with the other girls while changing back into my normal clothes.
To my relief, Angela and not one of the bitchy girls, was the lucky girl who got to pose with Allison, and she was positively beaming; she felt very confident about her picture. While the other girls took their photos, we spent some time with the cameras reviewing the week so far. I disliked this at first; talking to cameras felt nerve-wracking and awkward to me. But I was getting more confident, and felt a bit more optimistic about my shoot than I had last week. I talked about the pre-makeover challenge (a make-up contest that Siobhan had won) with a slightly uncomfortable headscarf shielding my hair to keep it a surprise, then talked about makeovers, removing the headscarf to reveal my new style. I warmed to the cameras even more, pouring a lot of my opinions out about the drama in the house, the photoshoot and, of course, my family. When the cameras left me to go and interview Jessica, I smiled slightly to myself.

"Don't worry," I said, half to myself and half to my parents despite the fact that they weren't there. "I think I'm safe for the time being."

Another day, uneventful this time, came and went- then it was time for the nerve-wracking ordeal that had hearts pounding and tears flowing; panel. Making sure that we dressed well enough and that our hair and make-up was perfect (not too little, not too much), we set off in the evening. I panicked over my appearance; my make-up skills left something to be desired, since even the lightest of cosmetics had been foreign to me before entering the competition. I still disliked the feeling of it on my skin even now, but I wanted to be spotless for Tyra, so with some help from Alice I applied a subtle amount of mascara and concealer (Tyra had often complimented me on my skin tone, so foundation was a negative). Still, I fussed with a compact for a while until Irina joked that I was acting like Jessica. With a teasing glare, I tossed my hair, parodying Jessica (though making sure that she couldn't see me). Irina giggled, while fingering her own hair. Her weave was loose, hanging nearly to her hips and glinting in the streetlights we saw from the tinted windows. My own hair was brushed back into a tight little ponytail, hopefully showing off my 'classic features, as Tyra had called them. I clenched and unclenched my fists as the limo moved further along, my heart jolting in horror when it came to a halt and we climbed out of it and into the lion's den, so to speak. Gathering on the steps in front of Tyra and 'co, we all stood nervously. Tyra's face displayed some solemnity as she looked over us but, to our relief, her face split into a smile.
"Well, who the hell do we have here?" she smirked, tossing back her hair. "I don't recognise any one of you! But you all look gorgeous with your makeovers! Now..."
As she jabbered on about the prizes (which we all knew) and the the judges (Nigel Barker, Miss J and Paulina) I surveyed the room. I'd been here before, but it was still just as intimidating; the long runway up to the judges' bench, the screen on one wall and the flock of cameras on the other. Thankfully, I was standing near the back of the group therefore half-hidden from the cameras.
"Now, you got to pose with some gorgeous alumni models," Tyra smiled. "And I'd like to start with... YOU, Zafrina."
Zafrina stepped forward from my right, warmly greeting Tyra. Tyra complimented the makeover (her long, black hair had become even longer and braided) then displayed her picture. Zafrina had posed with Jayla from cycle 5, but I had to admit that the picture wasn't supremely good. Zafrina looked a little lost, and a little confused. Still, all in all, it was OK and Zafrina returned beaming.
"Now... Bella!" Tyra chriped. "Come on down here!"
I gulped as I slipped forward and towards the bench.
"Hi," I said shyly. Tyra grinned.
"Now, Bella! I'm, lovin' that red hair you've got going, but I can't really see it. Let it down, honey- you look a bit too severe with it pulled back."
I didn't hesitate, and drew the pins and band from my hair, letting it flick around my face. Tyra looked pleased.
"There- you look super edgy! Now, you got to pose with Kat-ARRH-jen-AH ( I winced internally at her mispronunciation of Katarzyna's name) from cycle 10, and let's see your best shot."
All eyes turned to the screen, scrutinising my picture. I felt my heart flop over in utter relief; it looked good. I was half-kneeling on a low step, eyes fixed on Katarzyna with admiration, hands extended slightly as though I wanted to capture some of her fame. She was looking stunning, her blue eyes gazing down as though they were looking right through me like I was a shadow. The light glimmered off her face, while I looked as though I was hiding in the shadows uncertainly. I was shocked; I had thought T'd done OK in the shoot, but this picture looked professional.
"Wow," Tyra was the first to break the brief silent spell. "I just love this, Bella."
"This is an incredible shot," Nigel commented. " You look very natural, and I love the angle you were playing,"
Paulina took another glance at the photo before commenting. "I love the way you work your eyes, Bella. You look very insecure, but in a good way, like you're really scared to be in the presence of this girl."
"How did you feel posing with Katarzyna?" Tyra asked me. I didn't even need to consider this.
"Very... honoured," I admitted with a heated blush at the cumbersome reply. But Tyra laughed, which was a good sign.
"Well, I like it. " Miss J. commented. "It's a great improvement since your last photo."
Tyra dismissed me, and with a meek thanks I returned to the group, trying to hide my smile. It seemed insensitive to the girls who would be inevitably criticised if I grinned my head off, but I let a small smile play on my blushing cheeks. Alice was called up, her photo with Dionne from cycle 8 complimented, then Siobhan (who'd posed with Toccarra) was next, then Victoria...
Finally, when all the girls had patiently received their critique, we were dismissed while the judges deliberated. This was always one of the worst parts of panel but, thankfully, the cameras left us in peace, instead focusing on the judges, so we were able to enjoy a minute break from the show for a moment.
"I'm really hungry," Alice said randomly, leaning against the wall with a white-toothed grin. "I really want a snickers bar!"
I smiled a little. Though Alice was tiny, she adored almost anything that involved chocolate. Her metabolism must have worked in overdrive to burn off all the chocolate she ate while still keeping her stick-skinny. It didn't help that there was a huge bowl filled with fun size chocolates in the kitchen of our loft... Alice had made a sound like a dying bird when she saw it, before descending on the miniature candies like a hyena would on a carcass.
But now, I had to admit that I was a little hungry too. When we returned to the loft, I would definitely try and get to the candy before Alice did.
" I shotgun the peanut butter cups," I muttered teasingly. Alice made a stage-whine.
We talked about little insignificant things during the judges' deliberation, mainly to take our minds off of the upcoming nightmare; one of us would be going home. If we'd talked about our photos, it would have just made us even more nervous. So Alice, Angela, Irina and I busied ourselves with the trivial matter of candy bars until finally, we were called back in; back to face Tyra, looking as grave as an executioner before a beheading, the photos in her hands her axe.

"Twelve beautiful ladies stand before me," Tyra began, in her cliché speech that she used merely to add to the tension. " But I only have eleven photos in my hands. The girl whose name I do not call must immediately pack her bags and go home."
She stuck her hand into the folder and withdrew a piece of paper, the back facing us. "The first name I am going to call is..."
She flipped the paper over and I nearly fainted in shock, heart going overdrive.
"Bella."
Jaw hanging open like an idiot, I made my way up to Tyra.
"Thanks," I stuttered. She handed me my photo.
"You really impressed the judges," she complimented me. "And showed us that there's a model in there. Keep it up!"
With another cumbersome thanks, I slid to the side, withdrawing to the side and waiting for the next girl. Now I'd been called, I had to watch for my friends; it would be terrible if another one was eliminated this week.
"Tanya," Tyra announced, and I felt a little disappointed; I wanted all my friends to survive this week. But as Tanya stepped across clutching her photo, Tyra called up Angela. I felt some of the worry drain away; at least Angela was still in the competition. Tyra called Siobhan's name next, then Alice's. As one of my other friends skipped over sporting an ear-to-ear grin of relief, I looked across at Irina, hoping she would remain in the competition for at least another week.
" The next name I am going to call is..." Tyra drew out in a slow breath. I crossed my fingers, wishing for Irina to stay...
"Lauren."
Damn it.
Lauren smugly tossed her newly-dyed brown hair as she took her photo with an arrogant smile.
"You did well in the photoshoot, but your attitude towards the makeovers disappointed us, Lauren," Tyra lectured her. Lauren, who clearly hated being humbled, was clearly trying not to scowl. "You need to learn that you can still feel like yourself, even as a brunette."
Lauren thanked her dryly, but it was obvious that she wasn't going to listen to what Tyra advised her, something tat was likely to result in her downfall. As Tyra waited in what was clearly an overdramatic pause, I twisted a strand of my hair nervously, eyes flitting from the crowd of girls to Tyra. Irina had been worried about her photo; I remembered her defeated look after she came back, and the way she slumped against the wall depressively. It was awful, though; not another one eliminated so soon, not sweet and funny Irina...
I could see the look on her face mirrored mine, and she was contemplating her future in the competition. Zafrina was called up, then Victoria, then Jessica; leaving only Irina, Rosalie and Kate on the bottom three. My heart sank, the joy of being called out first completely gone now. If Irina was eliminated, then I would feel intensely guilty for being called so early...
Tyra surveyed the girls in front of her, before drawing out some paper.
"Irina."
I felt like I would sink to the floor with utter relief. Irina took her photo, and the breath I'd been holding whooshed out of my mouth. Now all my friends were safely remaining for another week.
"We gave you those long extensions to give you some versatility in your shoots," Tyra told her softly. "You gotta learn how to work it, girl."
Irina stepped over, and I saw the tears in her eyes that had gathered from fear of elimination. She took her place in front of us, and I saw how tense she'd been.
This left Kate and Rosalie in the bottom two. While I didn't know Kate well, I was begging that she'd be saved, and bitchy Rosalie axed. Kate was a good-natured girl and had been nice to everyone when she entered the house, whereas Rosalie had been brooding and quick to anger, like a caged lion. So, though I was happy that none of my friends were on the chopping block, my fingers were still tightly crossed; this time, for Kate's survival.
"Two beautiful ladies stand before me," Tyra said sadly, though everyone had heard this speech before; she said it every week before an elimination. Had I been in a lighter mood, I would have mouthed the inevitable words that always came up next; "But I only have one photo in my hands."
I saw tears beginning to form in Kate's eyes, while Rosalie had an overdramatic expression on her face.
"Now, here we have a girl," Tyra gestured to Kate with her hand. "Who is beautiful and high fashion, but all of her work is flat and commercial. We gave you that ice-blonde hair to try and give you some edge, but you still delivered an uninspiring photo. Whereas here," Her tone changed from soft to a firmer, irritated one. "We have a girl whose attitude towards the competition is making the judges frustrated. You complained about the challenges, you complained about the makeover, you complained about the photo shoot because you weren't posing with the model you wanted,"
I grimaced as I remembered Rosalie's little outbursts, and a feverish hope rose that she would be axed, giving Kate a second chance.
"So who goes and who stays?" Tyra glanced around, probably to make sure that everyone (even the camera crew) was holding their breath in anticipation before she flipped out some paper.
"You better clean up that attitude," Tyra told Rosalie. Her violet eyes widened and she lunged forward with a gasp, snatching the paper and clutching it to her chest like some bizarre life-preserver. I stifled a groan, staring piteously at Kate. Beside me, Tanya looked aggrieved that her sister had been cut, and tears were flocking down both their cheeks. Tyra embraced Kate, who was trying not to cry.
"I wanted this really badly," she whimpered. Tyra hypocritically rubbed her back as though she was upset too, which she probably wasn't considering the amount of people she'd eliminated in the past.
"It's okay," she soothed her. "You go out there and you work it, girl. Look at this body, girl! Every agency in the country's dying for someone like you- you've just gotta be brave, don't go holding things back."
Kate nodded, but although she was a little comforted she still began to cry as she said her goodbyes. We all joined in hugging her (except, I noticed, Victoria) then Tanya and Kate embraced closely, the two twins mirroring each other's tears. Kate told us she'd write a final letter then left slowly, with one final, heartbroken wave.
One of us was gone, one bed emptied, one less person to compete against. But though I was sad at Kate's departure, part of me felt fiercely determined. I'd proved to myself this week that I could succeed, and eagerly awaited the challenges of next week. Part of me was frightened out of my life, but part of me was seeking more.
I can do this.

A/N: Wow, that was the longest chapter I've written in my life. I've written whole fics with less words...
What did you think? Too long? Not written well enough? Too many ANTM references?
Please comment- If you don't like something I'll try and fix it.
I will try and update soon. :)
Once again, thanks again to Nematocera for the review. :)
Oh, and by the way, here is the link to Bella's makeover. I don't normally like putting links in fics, but I have.
Try to imagine it a bit less tousled, but otherwise it's her makeover.
NOTE: Remove the spaces when putting it in the URL bar.
w w w .womens hair styles online Hair/ Gallery/ Medium _Length _Red _Hair _117

Thanks!