My Sister is a Brocon Supermodel

(A.N. This is a MEMORY or something similar to it. Obligatory general background thingy).

Our parents died when we were four years old.

We were going to Long Island for the summer holidays when a truck suddenly appeared and crashed into us. Somehow, both my twin sister, Eve, and I survived the crash with only light injuries. Our parents didn't.

We didn't have any relatives other than a distant cousin who had no intention of taking us in.

So the state decided to send us to an orphanage in East Harlem.

I remember stepping out of the Volkswagen and seeing our new home for the first time.

It was a dilapidated, run-down, ancient building that could give health inspectors nightmares for years. It also happened to be our home for the next ten years.

The orphanage's caretaker, an old man with his only defining features being the massive mole on the side of his face and his permanent leer. He was just the scumbag he appeared to be, using embezzling the government funds that he was receiving for taking care of the orphanage.

"Dee-dee. Scary."

Eve had said while tugging my sleeve. 

I couldn't agree more.

She was hiding behind my back and her wide eyes were glancing at the man.

I remember wishing that I had someone to hide behind as well.

––––––––

It only took me a day to realize that food, is something we would have to find ourselves. Of course we were only four. What the fuck could we have done? I could hear Eve's stomach grumbling as we waited for a meal to arrive. The other kids at the orphanage noticed this and one of them had said there would be nothing. I remember they were snickering at our pitiful gazes while Eve was wincing from the hunger.

The only thing I could do was to pick up random shit off the ground and hope it would fill our bellies. Miraculously, we somehow never got any crippling diseases or stomachaches from all the bacteria we were ingesting. Must have been God's providence, eh?

I had always been protective of Eve. One of the few memories I had of my mother was her telling me that it was my duty as the older sibling to look out for the younger. But after seeing her cry about her hunger made me determined to at the least keep her stomach satisfied.

Thus began my frenzied efforts of digging through trash every day to find even the slightest morsel of food for us. A week hadn't even passed and I was already kicked out of the dumpsters of several restaurants. One of the owners had even called the police, who only took me back to the old man.

He didn't even bat an eyelash when I arrived with two officers.

Thankfully I had told Eve not to follow me that day. She had a habit of going wherever I went.

When the officers left, the old man didn't say anything so I went back to Eve.

I gave her a big smile and showed her the food I had tucked away in one of the rolls of my ragged clothes.

Even at such a young age, I knew that eating with dirty hands wasn't a good thing. So I forced my sister to always let me do the digging. I cleaned up the half-eaten food as best I could and handed it to my sister. Even when my stomach was screaming for nourishment, I would still give my sister the biggest and cleanest portions. My immature mind understood that what we were eating was literally shit. But at least she would get to eat a little better.

We were able to find a nice hiding spot in a nearby alley where we could escape the heat under the shadows of the buildings. Sometimes people would pass by, giving us pitiful glances but nothing more than that. The nicer ones would toss us a few coins.

Those were the good days.

We'd spend those coins at the local convenience store, buying whatever food we could with that money.

At least the orphanage gave us a place to sleep.

Though it was dusty, hot, and half-ruined, it was still a roof over our heads.

Unfortunately, that was practically it.

It didn't even have a proper showering room.

There were a few buckets of collected rainwater that the majority of the kids would use, but I always take baths in the local park's pond. After getting chased out by a passing woman, we only took baths under the covers of the night.

There were several other kids in the orphanage. All of them were older than us but they looked sickly and malnourished. We never really interacted with them. Every time we came back to the orphanage to sleep, we would just curl up in a corner of the room far away from everyone else.

We only needed each other, cuddling to maximize the heat, trying to escape from the drafts that came in through the cracked windows.

And so time passed.

Before we knew it, we were both twelve.

Somehow, despite being malnourished and not possessing the greatest hygiene, Eve was still growing into a beauty.

Sure, her hair was wild and dirty, her clothes were ragged, and maybe she was a little bit too thin.

Even so, I remember she was turning heads every time we left our little alley or spent the little change we would find on the streets.

Our twelfth birthday was significant for one reason.

It was the year I started my job.

It was after walking home from one of our baths, that I spied an advertisement looking for hires under the lamplight.

I remember teaching myself how to read from the newspapers I would occasionally find in the trash. Those crossword puzzles were the staple of my reading lessons. I had Eve learn with me.

One day, when we were studying the latest crossword, one of the street prostitutes caught a glimpse of us. By then, we were pretty famous around the neighborhood. Beauty and the beast they'd say. Eve was always confused, saying that I looked super cool and that she didn't know who the beast was. Though we might have similar faces, Eve was clearly more aware of her appearance. She was tall for her age, slim, had bushy hair, a well-proportioned face, and a gorgeous set of blue eyes.

On the other hand, I had bangs reaching down my face that covered the majority of it as well as plenty of scars from getting bitten by rats whenever I surfed the garbage. Anyways, one of the prostitutes took it upon herself to teach us basic lessons in math and English. Mind you, she wasn't well-educated herself but at least I could do addition and subtraction.

(A.N. This will be the extent of mc and sister's education for now)

I went to the interview. 

It was a small construction company that had specifically advertised that it would hire anyone, including ex-convicts. No questions asked.

The interviewer's eyebrows were only slightly raised when I asked him for a job.

I had gotten tall for my age, though I have no idea how, considering my terrible diet. At least I was much taller than any of the others at the orphanage. The years of living in the roughest neighborhood in Harlem only helped me exude a much more mature appearance.

That day, I remember dipping myself in the pond a dozen times, trying to wash out the grime under my fingernails, stuck to my clothes, and everything. I didn't even care that it was in the daytime.

Eve found out I was going to leave and got extremely upset, demanding I take her with me. Even if we grew up, she was still the same clingy sister of mine. 

I coaxed her by saying that I would be back before she knew it. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and she smiled, satisfied.

She soon dozed off on my lap and I gently moved her to the side and left for the interview.

My black shirt was still sopping wet, but I didn't care. I had liberated this shirt after passing by a coin laundry and seeing it left in a corner. The owners didn't care about these items and so I was able to use it as a means for clothing. Wearing a shirt was infinitely more comfortable than the rags I was wearing before.

Thankfully, the interviewers didn't seem to care too much about my appearance. They didn't even bother asking for documents, which if they had, would've let me completely stumped. I was twelve mind you. How would I know what an I-9 form was?

I got hired on the spot and was given instructions on where to go for my first day. They said my wages would be $7 an hour with shifts from 6 am to 2:30 pm Monday to Friday. I didn't care about the pay at the time. I had never even held more than $7 at one time.

My first day on the job was torture. It was mixing cement. For eight hours a day with one thirty-minute break in the middle. I didn't have money for equipment or gloves and my employers didn't care if I was tearing up from the fumes. As a result, I was coughing like a chainsmoker.

It didn't help that the bags weighed over 40 kg. The first time I lifted it, I literally keeled over onto the floor. My diet could not sustain efforts asides from digging through trash. I kept struggling to tip the cement over until I came up with the idea of scooping it in my hands.

This was depressingly slow but I somehow managed to meet half of my quota.

I wasn't fired thanks to the company's dire need for workers.

That day I had arrived at the orphanage completely exhausted. I didn't even have the energy to clean off and just fell on the floor next to my sister. I had given Eve food for the day already so I didn't have to worry about that. 

The next morning I woke up as early as I could and immediately bowled over in pain. 

Everywhere on my body was sore but I couldn't complain. 

It was another day for work. 

––––––––

After a week of this labor, I received the first paycheck of my life.

It was only half the amount I could have made, the boss had said this was due to my poor performance. But I didn't care.

$140.

They had asked how I wanted to get paid and I had immediately answered cash.

I remember crying after seeing the bills.

I ran home that day, ignoring the pain in my legs and back, racing to tell my sister the good news.

I found her in our usual alley spot and I scooped her into my arms. She was surprised but still held onto me tightly. I sobbed while holding her and took out the envelope full of bills.

She knew what this meant and also began crying.

We splurged on a meal that night, going to the convenience store and filling our stomachs for the first time of our lives.

We even bought a candy bar to share between the two of us.

––––––––

And like that two years more passed.

Now meeting quotas was no problem. As I kept receiving paycheck after paycheck, I began to fix my diet. After asking one of the prostitutes who had begun seeing me as a sort of surrogate son, for dietary advice, I went to the store and began buying nonperishable food that could somewhat hold. Things like almonds and dried fruits. I began to slightly build my muscles up with each day, and by now had a very lean and cut body. The other children in the orphanage had begun all acting strangely around me and Eve, but I just ignored it. It was probably because of how clean we smelled.

We had stopped using the pond for a bath and instead paid for access to a legitimate bathhouse. I remember my first time in the shower. Eve had tried to come with me to the men's room but I had to explain to her that she had to be going to the women's room instead. One of the things my job had taught me was common sense. I had realized that our circumstances were far from normal, but at this point, what could I do to change it?

My first experience with the shower was very pleasant. It felt strange having water be directly poured onto your body, rather than submerging, but I had to admit that the hot water was really comfortable. I was shocked at how clean I was and when I met up with Eve, I could smell a sweet scent coming from her hair. Apparently one of the women there had helped her use something called conditioner. 

Aside from these expenses, I also started giving Eve an allowance with the leftover money. I made sure to keep a certain amount in savings (tucked away in a small space hidden under a loose stone tile in the alley) and gave the rest to Eve to spend on things like clothes or cosmetics. I saw her looking wistfully at a girl her age and realized that she most likely wanted clothes too. Unfortunately, her clothes were always too small or men's clothing, as she was too tall for to comfortably fit into the clothes I could find at the laundromat. She denied any interest but caved when I said that it was to make her look prettier. 

One of the things still bothering me at my job was my hair. I decided it was time for a haircut and dragged Eve to a hairdresser.

An hour later, I was checking out my new look in the mirror. 

My bangs were now gone and I had a crew-cut in its stead.

Eve had gotten her bushy hair tidied up and trimmed.

––––––––

Then it was time for our fourteenth birthday.

This day signified our final goodbye to the orphanage.

I had enough money in our savings to rent a super small studio a few blocks away from the orphanage.

It wasn't much but the thing that sold me was the fact that the bathroom had its own shower.

The manager of the building was an elderly woman who didn't care about anything other than receiving the down payment and two months of rent ahead of time.

We got to keep the shitty furniture too. Hooray.

We moved in that very night.

The old director didn't even glance at us when we left the orphanage.

I considered leaving a note but decided it would be better not to.

With all the embezzling he was doing, it would be in his best interests to not be contacting law enforcement. The most he might do is try to chase after us for a while. After all, we were basically two government paychecks walking away from him.

I brought Eve and introduced her to our new home.

As expected, she was really happy about the bath.

"We can take baths together again Adam!"

We were fourteen and she still wanted to do that? I had thought that she would've grown out of it by now, having been bathing alone for the past two years...

For a full year, this was our home. After cleaning it up as best as we could during one of my rest days, it felt a lot more homely. There was even a slightly crooked wardrobe that we could use to put all of our clothes in.

But on our fifteenth birthday, we met a man on a bridge and the next day she had disappeared out of my life.

–––––––––

A.N. Yes ignore things like employment verification, availability, child labor laws, and shit like that. I don't know shit about models or fashion. I'm just bullshitting as I go...Like I said, if you came here expecting an accurate representation of the modeling industry...sayonara.

mc's sister has very little exposure in these chapters but she's the underlying reason why mc is getting a job at such a young age. i'll be adding flashbacks showing their relationship from time to time in future chapters.

Also, the shit about the education is just there so that I can say the mc knows how to use money or read ads. I was originally planning on having him attend school and then dropping out but I scrapped that. I'm planning on getting him a tutor in the distant-future but that's for another chapter...

Soap...How does mc keep himself from smelling like shit after taking baths from a pond for ten years? Only answer I can give is plot armor...

In case it's confusing, TLDR this is a summary of their lives before the fateful meeting.