Child Model

A small crowd surrounds me as I sit in a tall, black, cloth-back chair. The woman in my face crunches on a tic -tac, the sound sounds like the name, tic-tac. Her brow furrows deep in concentration as she gently touches my cheek with a soft brush. I like the smell of the powdery makeup and her minty breath and the soap, and rubbing alcohol on her rough hands — everything clean and orderly.

Behind me, someone else has their fingers in my hair. And behind the woman in my face, is a man. He is staring at me but really more through me, because when I look directly into his eyes and give him a little smile, he doesn’t seem to notice. He doesn’t smile back.

“Looks good,” he says, and I realize he’s talking about me, but not to me. More fingers in my hair, long nails against my scalp making tingles down my spine.

Another woman steps into view from behind the big mirror with lightbulbs all around it. She is holding h…