She knew she had to get creative and make that corset dress work, because there was no extra time to start over. What she was going to do, she still had no clear idea. Her fingers clenched into fists. This dress could end her dream. She tried to take deep breaths, to push away the suffocating stress so she could create.
Sitting in the backseat of the taxi that blessedly was zipping up Sixth Avenue despite the traffic, Emma psyched herself up. This was the final push. Paint splatters or no paint splatters, she would finish what she started and make it great. Emma typed quickly:
Ms. Young, Everything will be ready 4 pickup @ 5. Thanks, Allegra Biscotti
“How’s it going?” Charlie asked, poking his head into Emma’s studio a little while later.
Emma spritzed steam from the handheld steamer near Charlie’s face, blasting him with the warm, moist air.
“Not so good, huh?” He blocked his face from another blast of heat.
“Let’s be honest here, Charlie. I’m panicking, and I need to focus.” Emma turned her attention back to the high, dramatic collar of the dress. Charlie was great but just not now. She had turned Marjorie away earlier, too.
“I’m not even here. Ignore me.” He wandered around the room, eyeing each of Emma’s finished pieces.
“I will.” Emma inspected the zipper running along the back of the dress. She slowly moved it along its tiny tracks, double-checking its grip.
“I heard you and Holls had quite the scene in the hall today—”
“Not now.” Emma warned him. What had happened with Holly was too raw, too painful to analyze now. She needed to finish being Allegra first. Then at home quietly, when she was ready, she could figure out what had gone so horribly wrong between her and Holly.
After a couple of minutes Charlie said, “Hey, Em, does this lining go all the way around inside?”
She looked up. He was standing by her worktable, the paint-splattered vest in front of him. “Yeah, why?”
“I had an idea. Do you think you could, like, flip it inside out?”
Emma had turned her attention to the dress form now wearing the not-great-enough corset dress. While she still thought of the other dress forms as her “girls,” this one seemed more like the hanger-on girl. The girl who worked so hard to fit in with the others, yet everyone else could see that she just didn’t have that special something to jell with the group.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, I mean, the lining is really cool. I actually always liked it better than the outside fabric. So I was thinking: what if you reversed it and made that the outside?”
Dropping the steamer on the table, Emma hurried over to Charlie’s side. She reached for the vest and gently flipped it inside out. She held it away from her body and studied it. It wasn’t how she’d originally pictured it at all…but it totally worked.
Now the gorgeous swirly silk lining was on the outside, and the gray silk-jersey fabric peeked out along the edges, as if it had been intended as a border all along. The slit pockets, which she and Marjorie had luckily taken such care to sew, still had their desired effect.
All she had to do was sew the buttons onto the new front, trim the pocket with bits of the gray fabric to counteract the softness of the lining, and add an Allegra Biscotti label to the new inside. No one would ever see the white paint splatters hidden inside.
A huge grin spread from ear to ear as she stripped the never-loved corset dress off the dress form and replaced it with the vest. She stepped back and eyed the three pieces of her original vision together. The printed vest still worked perfectly with the party dress and the structured coat. She raised her arms above her head in triumph.
“Yes! Yes! Charlie! You’re a genius!”
For once, Charlie was more modest than usual. “Yes, I am, but you’d probably planned on making it reversible the whole time.”
“No, I didn’t!” Emma laughed. “I didn’t! But who knows… maybe Allegra did!”
She eyed the clock. She really had to hurry now to get those buttons on. When she grabbed the tin box off her worktable, she giggled.
“What?” Charlie asked.
Emma held up the box that once had contained biscotti cookies—the very same one that had given Emma the idea for Allegra’s last name just three weeks earlier—and shook it. The buttons clanked around inside.
“That has to be a good sign, right?”
“Definitely,” Charlie agreed.
He watched as she made the alterations and adjustments to the vest. As she snipped the final threads, he reached behind the filing cabinet and pulled out a large shopping bag. “Here you go.”
Inside were three canvas garment bags with the Allegra Biscotti logo that Emma had designed in the upper-left corner of each of them. Emma hugged them to her chest.
“I love them. They’re perfect.”
“I asked my mom for some of the garment bags she uses to protect her costumes from all those musicals and heat-sealed your logo onto them,” Charlie explained. “I thought they’d make everything look more professional and official. Much better than those lame dry-cleaner bags you were going to use.”
“Brilliant, as usual.” Emma smiled at her friend, and now her partner. “Thank you.”
A few minutes later, Marjorie stuck her head into Emma’s work space.
“Ready, honey? The messenger from Madison is here.”
Her dad hurried in, too, not wanting to miss the big moment.
The sensationally cut, sparkly dress with a teasing slit showing a hint of watercolor silk; the fabulously dramatic charcoal jacquard overcoat with its brilliant-striped, pleated lining (and perfect box pleat!); and the dash-of-color vest with gray edges practically danced on their hangers, as if they, too, were eager for their big debut.
Emma zipped up the final bag and turned to Marjorie. “Ready as I’ll ever be!”
“I’ll take these up front for you, Ms. Biscotti,” Marjorie said. She lifted the three garment bags off the garment rack, whisking away Emma’s very first collection to face the scrutiny of fashion’s top editors.
Emma sunk down onto the stool, her whole body tingling. This was the most exciting, terrifying, satisfying, exhilarating, joyful, and proud moment of her entire life.
This must be what it’s like to be a real fashion designer, Emma thought as she followed Charlie and her dad out of her studio and turned off the light: Hurrying and waiting. A million ups and downs. Times when everything was going right and then it…wasn’t. Wondering what people would think. Hoping that someone would love what she created as much as she did.
Now there was nothing she could do—no sketching, no sewing, no snipping—but wait.
Chapter 15
Surprises
“Did you hear from her yet?” Charlie asked Emma when he saw her in the hall after sixth period a couple of days later.
“No! No text message or voice mail from Paige. Nothing. The photo shoot supposedly happened yesterday. What do you think that means?” Emma asked. The silence was driving her crazy. Was it good silence, or was it bad silence?
Charlie shrugged. “Who knows?”
Emma sighed. “It’s just been such a weird week, you know? I was on this awesome high right after delivering everything to Madison. But between not hearing anything from Paige and avoiding Holly, I’m just feeling kind of out of it. Plus, spending every afternoon studying for the Western civ exam is just not as much, I don’t know, fun as being Allegra.”
“I could’ve told you that, little Miss Split Personality,” Charlie said.
“It’s just so weird between me and Holly, standing next to each other at our lockers and not talking.”
Frustratingly, “Hmm” was all Charlie could muster. For Charlie, Allegra was fascinating and fun. Emma’s schoolgirl drama…not so much. She got that she would have to tackle the friendship crisis on her own.
The more she dissected their awful fight, the more she realized that she probably held a lot of the blame
. Monday had been a bad and stressful day, and her head had been in Allegra mode, not in Emma mode. Not a choice time to get into it with Holly. Maybe she had overreacted.
What she did know, she decided as another day of mutual silent treatment came to a close, was she wasn’t ready to throw away twelve years of the friendship over Ivana or some guy she didn’t really know. Some guy who Holly didn’t appear to be going out with either, which Emma realized was odd after all of that gossip.
Maybe everybody was wrong, and Holly had been telling the truth. She knew Holly. Holly might be a bit caught up in this whole popularity thing, but she most definitely was not a mean, vengeful person.
There must be something I can do to fix this, Emma thought. And soon enough, inspiration struck. She would stitch their friendship back together.
The next day, Emma asked Ms. Lyons for a bathroom pass during world history. Rerouting to Holly’s locker instead, she spun the combination on Holly’s padlock that she had memorized that first day of school—22, the floor that Holly lived on, 18, the floor that Emma lived on, and 37, the reverse of the street Holly lived on.
Emma opened her own locker, pulled out a package wrapped in gold tissue paper and tied with a wine-colored silk cord, and slipped it inside Holly’s locker. She had thought about leaving a note but, in the end, decided not to. Holly would either accept the gift as a peace offering, or she wouldn’t—but she would definitely know who the package was from and what it meant.
And so Emma spent the rest of the afternoon waiting. Waiting for Paige. Waiting for Holly.
After school, Emma approached her locker as if on tiptoe. Holly was already there, methodically pulling out notebooks and dropping them into her bag. Had their fight been bigger than she thought? Emma wondered.
Holly’s body language did not look warm and inviting. Was Holly rejecting her gift—and her friendship? Maybe Emma had gotten so wrapped up with Allegra that she hadn’t realized how bad things had truly gotten with Holly.
She twirled her lock, her body feeling as if it was teetering on five-inch spike heels. She couldn’t seem to get her balance.
“This is pretty awesome.” Holly’s voice was low, almost a whisper.
Emma turned slowly. Holly held up the T-shirt Emma had sewn for her the night before. It was a riff on the patchworky-collage design Emma had made out of the vintage music band shirts a few weeks earlier.
Emma had sewn a patch out of an old Bazooka gum T-shirt onto a new Swedish cotton long-sleeve crew-neck shirt. And using thick, pink embroidery thread, she had painstakingly embroidered little circles—bubbles—in random spots all over the shirt.Holly allowed a small smile and then looked down.Emma shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, not knowing what to do next.“I’m sorry,” she finally said.“Me, too.” Holly smiled widely now.
“You know, Jackson and I aren’t a couple,” she added. “That was just a nasty rumor.”
Emma nodded. “I figured that out. A few days too late…”
“Can I explain what really happened at Kayla’s on Saturday night?” Without waiting for answer, Holly continued. “The minute Jackson got there, Lexie started throwing herself at him. It was crazy. So I sort of butted my way in to distract him, so she couldn’t completely sink her claws into him. That way you’d be able to talk to him when you got there.
“I knew you didn’t really want to come to the party, so I didn’t want you to show up and then find Jackson off in a corner with Lexie. But then you never came, so yeah, I guess he and I ended up hanging out most of the night. But it was only so Lexie wouldn’t. All we did was play Guitar Hero. That’s it. Nothing happened between us.”
“But what about all the things people were saying?”
“People are idiots,” Holly replied. “What’s worse is that my friends thought I’d do something like that. Even Ivana and the girls believed what they heard. It didn’t matter that they were there and saw for themselves that nothing happened. Em, nothing happened. I would never do that to you.”
“I know that,” Emma said quietly. “I really, really do. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain. And I’m sorry for not coming to the party and for not even letting you know that I wasn’t. It was totally rude of me. I wanted to come—I really did—but it turned out to be a crazy weekend. My parents found out that my grades, well, stink, and they grounded me. And you know my mom. She’s like the homework police. Going to a party was not happening.”
“You were grounded? That’s it?” Holly sounded relieved, almost happy. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought you didn’t come because you didn’t like me anymore.”
“You made such a big deal about me coming to the party, so it was hard to…” Emma wasn’t sure how to finish. She didn’t want to upset Holly again.
“I guess I just missed us,” Holly admitted.
“Me, too,” Emma agreed. “Look, I’m sorry about Ivana and the girls getting mad at you, especially because you were looking out for me.”
“No, you’re not,” Holly said with a half smile.
Emma laughed. Holly was right. She wasn’t all that sorry about that part.
“But no worries. I spoke to Ivana, and she spoke to Lexie, so we’re all cool again,” Holly said.
“Oh, um, good,” Emma said.
Holly unwrapped a fresh piece of sour green-apple gum and popped it in her mouth. “You know, it used to be so great when it was just you and me. But I really like Ivana and the other girls, too. But I’m not totally clueless, and I know you don’t like them.”
“Maybe we just have to figure out how to be friends, I don’t know, differently than we did before,” Emma suggested.
Holly nodded. “Definitely, because I really hate the other option, don’t you?”
“Totally,” Emma agreed. She couldn’t imagine her life without Holly. Holly knew all of Emma’s secrets—well, almost all of them.
Emma started to wonder if she should tell Holly about Allegra Biscotti and everything that was happening with Madison magazine. Maybe sharing what was really going on for her would help them feel closer again. They had always shared their hopes and dreams.
But something stopped her. Even if I asked Holly not to tell anyone, what would happen if she let something slip to Ivana and the ’Bees, like she did about the sketches of Jackson that day at Bloomingdale’s? Did sharing something important and personal with Holly automatically mean that it would get passed along to Ivana? Emma wasn’t sure of the answer.
“Whew!” Holly said. “I’m glad that’s over. I’ve had a stomachache the whole week!”
“Me, too!” Emma laughed. Together they examined the bubble gum T-shirt. Emma told Holly all about the cool band tees she’d made, and Holly filled her in on some of the more creative costumes at the party. The halls were almost empty. Emma knew her father would be expecting her at Laceland, but it felt so good to be hanging out with Holly again that she just couldn’t leave.
“Hi, Holls. Hi, Emma,” cooed a girl’s voice.
Emma and Holly lifted their heads to see Lexie walking slowly yet confidently down the hall, hand in hand with Jackson.
“Hey Lex, hey Jackson,” Holly said as they passed by.
Emma just gaped. Holly turned toward her. “I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“No biggie. He’s probably a jerk anyway,” Emma said when she found her voice again. But they both knew she still thought Jackson was the furthest thing from a jerk. She couldn’t help but be shocked that Jackson went for Lexie. Even though she barely knew him, she had a hard time imagining that Lexie was his type.
“Look, I got to go to work. It’s part of the grounding deal.”
“Okay.” Holly looked uncomfortable. “Ivana is supposed to come over later to study. Any chance you want to come, too?”
“Not at all,” Emma said with a smile.
“That’s what I figured,” Holly said, also smiling. “I’ll call you tonight.”
The girls quickly hugged,
then went in their separate directions.
By Friday, Emma still hadn’t heard a peep from Paige. Nothing. Silence.
She had spent the week studying and obsessing. She was getting really good at both. She took the Western civilization exam that afternoon. She didn’t do perfectly, but she thought she might have done well enough to make it into the class.
She arrived at Laceland a bit later than usual that afternoon. The office was silent.
“Where is everybody?” Emma asked Marjorie as she slid out of her puffy, gold down vest.
Marjorie rolled her lips to evenly distribute the frosted pink lipstick she had just applied and then inspected herself in her hand mirror. “Your dad is at an after-school conference for William, and Isaac’s out making deliveries. The phones have been quiet today, too. No important calls, if you know what I mean. How about you?”
Emma frowned. “Nope, not a single one.”
“I wouldn’t take it to mean anything, honey. People like Paige Young have a limited attention span. They can only focus on the most urgent things in front of them. I’m sure she’ll be in touch soon—probably when she needs something.” Marjorie stood up to put on her black felt coat. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Emma settled herself in Marjorie’s chair. She opened up her bag to see what schoolwork she could get a jump on, so she wouldn’t have to spend the entire weekend studying. She and Holly had made plans for Holly to come over and watch a movie on Saturday afternoon— just the two of them—and Emma didn’t want there to be any chance that she’d have to cancel. But as she considered her options, she realized that her brain was tired from studying and taking the test. Maybe I’ll just color in some of my sketches from this week’s rounds of the Game, Emma decided.
She pulled out her sketchbook and then leaned over to dig deeper in her bag to find her pencils, which were all stuck at the bottom. She heard the sound of the front door opening.
The Allegra Biscotti Collection Page 15
