Chapter 133

School is school ... hoops to jump through on the way to maturity. I got my BSE at eighteen...

My mom’s replacement ... the new math professor ... was quite surprised when I walked in his class, “Ms Flintkote ... I thought that by now ... you would be back home ... building sailboats.”

Only slightly confused, I said, “I’m Tyche Flintkote ... Surprise Flintkote is my aunt.”

“Amazing ... you look so very much like her.”

That had me blushing. I have yet to admit that I’m striking. I’ve lived with me for 17 years. I’m pretty. I know that. This year the ‘scouts’ ... model agency representatives ... looking for the next ‘face’ found me. They check out the freshmen women ... scouting for freshness and innocence ... and I’m 17 ... and ‘should’ be a new student.

When Elite, Next and Ford reps surrounded me I was over the age for new teen faces and under the age for runway and magazine coverage. I grinned at all three and said...”I’m sixteen ... but I’m a Junior.” Next year ... I’d be interested. IMG ... said they’d wait until I was 18.

When I walked across the platform to receive my degree.

I hadn’t made a big deal of my age ... or that Auntie mom ... was the temp he replaced. I look 22 or 23 and I resemble Sultry Wench Flintkote ... except I’m taller ... pushing Five Ten! (154cm). That is tall for a normal/average 17 to 18 year old female in 2020 ... six inches taller.

There is just one tiny tenincy infinitesimal alteration.

Some where ... in the master plan ... a hitch developed. I kept telling myself it didn’t matter. Nobody would care.

My cap and gown didn’t fit right ... and nothing could hide the problem.

Seven months is a definite bulge.

Yup ... forgot a day.