Amy looked at herself in the mirror, feeling totally inadequate. "I wish I were prettier," she breathed softly, and as she said the words, the surface of the mirror fogged up, the mist from her breath catching the surface.
Amy caught her breath, afraid she'd damaged what looked to be an extremely high ticket item in a store filled with cheaper knick-knacks, and then watched as the mirror cleared. It was hard to see her reflection now, a bluish patina of tarnish besmirched the formerly shining spotless mirror, but in it, what she could see of herself looked unchanged: same face, same breasts, same bare suggestion of curves. Same old Amy.
She sighed and went to find Lina, who was down another aisle looking at various animal figurines that looked like they'd been carved in several different third world countries. "Hey," said Lina, turning, "what do you think--" She broke off, staring at Amy.
"What is it?" asked Amy self consciously. "Do I have a zit or something?"
"No," breathed Lina. "You're, like, sparkling. Did you get a makeover?"
"No," said Amy, "I was just looking at an old mirror. It got all tarnished when I just breathed on it. Let's get out of here before the old guy tries to make us pay for it."
"Okay," said Lina, unsure. "I kinda wanted to buy something though."
"Oh come on," said Amy, grabbing her by the arm. She hustled her out to the main aisle and pulled her out of the store before the old guy woke up. "Let's go to the food court."
"Okay," said Lina.
On the way there, Amy started to get self conscious. People were staring at her, even doing double-takes, and one guy even kept looking at her.
She stopped then as she saw the most gorgeous girl she'd ever seen, perfect hair, flawless skin, sparkling radiant blue eyes, except she was wearing the same dumpy jeans and pink blouse Amy's mom had bought her at WalMart. A moment later, Amy realized she was looking at one of the mirrored pillars of the mall, and that girl was her.
"Uh, excuse me," said the guy who was staring at her. "Are you a model? I swear I must have seen you in a catalog or something."
"No..." said Amy slowly. "I don't think so."
What on earth was going on?
"I'm a talent scout for America's Next Top Model. Do yourself a favor and come to the tryouts." He handed her a card.
"But--" Amy said, wanting to say that she was just an ordinary plain girl with no figure to speak of, but looking at the mirrored pillar, she could see that wasn't true. Her breasts weren't any bigger, her hips weren't any curvier, but there was this indifinable sparkle about her. She was gorgeous.