Michael Michele (8)

I wish this was like America's Top Next Model where you get plenty of feedback, and little pieces of mail telling you what to expect next. And other seemingly clueless people around you. Instead I'm surrounded by experts, have no idea what I'm doing, and when I'll be able to see what I'm doing.

The photographers and directors don't tell me anything except for their names, and all I get are a few brief nods or smiles. Is this good or bad? Was I being dismissed? What kind of mother tosses her kid in a situation like this?

After three photo shoots--a whiz of makeup, hair, and clothes changes and me pretending like I know what I'm doing--I finally get a break.

Brie's still in the first studio I found Mom in but Mom is gone. There's two other people in the room, both smoking. Brie is whimpering and snuffling in a tired, resigned wya that makes me think she's been stuck in here for a while. And it smells like she had an accident.

She has. I finally find a bathroom--there's only one. What, are models not supposed to pee like normal people? And get her cleaned up as much as possible. Luckily, I always pack a clean change of clothes in her diaper bag. She's incredibly fussy though, crying loudly and making complaining noises when I try to put her back in the stroller.

"No! Noooooooooo!!! I want to walk. PUT ME DOWN!"

"Brie, we're just gonna find Mommy and then we're gonna take a walk outside and you can walk then, okay? Just be good for a few more minutes."

"No. No," she says, quietly now. "I'm tired of being good."

"I know how you feel," I say, losing patience and plopping ehr unceremonisouly in the carriage.

We walk through the maze of departments and people are staring. Teens with baby carriages are apparently not well-accepted here. But I'm beyond frustrated now, completely lost, and even if I wasn't I'd have no idea where to find Mom.

After half an hour of looking, I finally give up.

"Okay, we're going outside, Brie." I grab my purse and her diaper bag from the stroller and park it in the corner.

"Where are we going?" she asks, once outside. Just stepping out of that stressful place is relaxing. So relaxing that you'd think I just stepping into a long flat prairie surrounded at the far edges with green trees, and a big creek in the middle, with little animals running around.

Instead I'm standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk, still surrounded by stressed people, but finally they have nothing to do with me.

"I think we'rre gonna go grab some lunch," I tell her, still figuring this out in my head. "Then we'll go back to look for Mommy and if we don't find her we'll take the subway home, okay?"

"What if she's not done yet?" Brie asks, looking up at me.

"Do we really care?" I say.

She nods solemnly.

"Too bad," I say. She halts abruptly, with a mean frown on her face. I know I'm not being the best sister right now, but I'm a little tired of being the best, and I think I'm entitled.

"You're being mean!" She stomps her foot, and folds her arms, letting go of my hand. She's on the verge of a temper tantrum. And a busy sidewalk in the middle of Manhattan is not the place to fall on the ground and thrash around. I swing her onto my hip, and duck into the nearest restaurant.

We eat in silence, her still frowning an dpushing out her lower lip. We go back to the Splendor fair, look around one more time for Mom, and then go home. When we get there, I remember that I don't have the key, since Mom and I were going the smae place when we left. We're locked out and we don't know anyone in our complex. We have no family or friends in walking distance and I am out of cash.