The Allegra Biscotti Collection
Page 16
Emma lifted her head and almost fell off the chair.
Standing right in front of her, immaculately dressed in a gray wool slim skirt and a deep-purple boat-neck blouse with kimono sleeves, and with her hands on her hips and an unmistakable glare directed at Emma, was Paige Young.
“How was school today, Allegra?” Paige asked.
Chapter 16
No Longer In The Margins
Emma was too shocked by Paige Young standing in front of her—calling her “Allegra”—to breathe, much less say a single word.
“The look on your face,” Paige said coolly, “is pretty much all the proof I need to know that I’m one thousand percent right.”
“I…uh…” Emma faltered.
“Wow. Wow, I can not believe it,” Paige said, more to herself than to Emma. “Usually I l-o-v-e being right—it’s one of my favorite things—but until a few seconds ago, I was still hoping that perhaps I was wrong about this one. It would’ve been a whole lot easier if I had been wrong—for the both of us,” Paige said, looking right at Emma.
“How did you find out?” Emma asked quietly.
“I hate to tell you, but it wasn’t that hard. I had a funny feeling about ‘Allegra Biscotti’ the whole time, but I kept telling myself that I was just being paranoid since I was going further out on a limb than I’d normally go. Usually I like to—I don’t know—speak to the designers I’m working with. Call me crazy, but it makes me feel better about them actually existing and all, if you know what I mean.
“Anyway, after I came here looking for Allegra and the receptionist tried to cover up the fact that she had never even heard of Allegra Biscotti, my radar went right up. So I had my assistant call the number you gave me from her cell phone, and you picked up because you didn’t recognize the number. I only met you those couple of times, but I did recognize your voice. So voilà—now I’m a fashion detective.” Paige laughed ruefully.
“I’m so sorry!” Emma exclaimed, the words now tumbling out. “I didn’t mean to trick you. I never in a million years thought it would go this far, but when it did, well, I just couldn’t pass up the amazing opportunity you had given me. I wanted to tell you so many times—I really did—but then it felt too late, somehow…but I promise to come clean. I’ll tell whoever you want me to tell that it was totally my fault and that you had no idea—”
“Oh, no you won’t!” Paige interrupted, bringing her hand down hard on the counter, the back of her huge cushion-cut engagement ring clunking against the Formica surface. “That’s so not going to happen. You want to know the real reason I didn’t pull the plug on this whole thing before? Because all the editors at Madison, including yours truly, found Allegra’s—your, whoever’s—designs to be fresh and inspired and, well, completely fabulous. Exactly as I anticipated.
“They went absolutely cray-zee over your stuff. Would you believe that they actually gave me a hard time about only asking you—Allegra—whomever for three pieces? I had to beat them off with a stick. It was in-SAN-ity.”
“Really?” As terrified as Emma was by being confronted by Paige, she couldn’t help but be thrilled. The editors of Madison magazine loved my designs! Emma thought with delight. They loved them! Loved them!
“Yes, really. Look, I have too much of my own career as the-editor-who-discovered-this-year’s-hottest-new-designer riding on your whole phantom designer house of cards to be ridiculed if people find out Allegra Biscotti is really a—how old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Is really a fourteen-year-old girl, without a minute of formal training no less! I refuse to become the laughingstock of the fashion industry. I have bigger aspirations than being part of the punch line for a fourteen-year-old’s fashion caper. Much bigger.”
“Oh.” Emma looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to mess up your career or make you look stupid. I would never want that to happen. Allegra can just disappear. Maybe someday we can—”
Paige rapped on the counter with her knuckles to make Emma stop blabbering and look up. “Um, hello? I don’t think you’re quite picking up what I’m laying down here. Allegra is not going anywhere—especially not disappearing without a trace. Allegra is only just beginning.
“Here’s the deal: I’m planning to keep the secret until they pry it out of my cold, dead hands and you—and whoever else knows—must swear-swear-swear to keep it as well. And because you have a bonkers amount of talent—and because I happen to be a very nice person—I’ll help Allegra Biscotti as a sort of mentor.
“I’ll give you my advice and share my professional insight, as long as you don’t blow our cover. And, of course, I’ll expect you to give me and Madison exclusive coverage. Do we have a deal or what?” Paige reached her hand across the counter.
Emma grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. “Are you kidding? Definitely! You can count on me. I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. Not too many people know about Allegra. My best friend doesn’t even know!” Emma rambled on with relief, “Wow. I can’t believe you’re going to help me! That’s so amazing. You have the best taste in the world and must know everyone in the business!”
Paige allowed a proud smile. “True and true. But I mean it,” she said, wagging her index finger at Emma, “this one goes in the vault. Got it?”
“Totally,” Emma said, a grin spreading from ear to ear. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Good. Now, as your official mentor, here’s my first piece of advice: for the love of Gucci, buy a new cell phone for Allegra Biscotti with a different phone number. My second piece of advice is to set up an Allegra Biscotti Web page with an email address. We’re about to enter the big leagues here. No more kiddie texting stuff, got it? I’m not about to stick my neck out when there’s the risk of you picking up your cell phone as you and not Allegra and blowing it with one slip of the fabric shears.”
“Gotcha,” Emma agreed.
“Once those things are done, I’ll give out Allegra’s number and email address to some select people in New York, who could help get Allegra’s designs seen and worn by the right people. And then, watch out! I predict that this thing is going to explode, like huge. So get ready.”
“I’m ready,” Emma said. “I’ve been getting ready for this moment my whole life. It just came a lot sooner than I thought it would.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Paige said, spinning on her heel to leave. Suddenly, she turned back toward Emma. “You did an amazing job, by the way. I have to admit I’m even more impressed with the work now that I know the truth. I brought Polaroids from the shoot to show you.”
She unsnapped a cocoa leather clutch that looked so buttery soft Emma wanted to stroke it, and she pulled out a stack of photos.
“We love, love, loved that everything was reversible. Genius. Twice the bang for the buck! We shot each piece both ways, and the model was raving about how comfortable everything was, which never happens. Models don’t rave.”
Looking at snapshots of a lanky, gorgeous model in her designs sent Emma reeling from her body. She hovered, peering over Paige’s perfectly casual bun at her designs. Which looked…fabulous!
“The vest had a tiny spot or two on the inside. We don’t know how it happened, and we’ll pay to have it cleaned. We have the best cleaner…there’s not a spot on earth that Felix can’t get out. For the shoot, we just styled it with this over-the-top chunky turquoise deco pin. To die for, isn’t it?” she asked, holding out the photo for Emma to see. And yes, thought Emma, it was to die for.
“Gotta run,” Paige said, as she shuffled the photos together, deposited them into her clutch, and snapped it shut in one swift motion. “Ciao for now.”
Emma just stood there, smiling. And the smile was still on her face when she fell into bed exhausted, relieved, and oh, so happy that night.
By the next week, Emma felt like her life had pretty much returned to normal, at least on the outside. It was almost as if she had dreamed the whole thing—but
inside, she felt completely different. Like a fairy godmother had waved a magic wand and changed her life—forever.
But life at Downtown Day hadn’t changed.
Emma caught herself still sneaking a peek at Jackson every few minutes during world history. He looked great today, as usual. The royal blue in his flannel plaid shirt made his eyes stand out even more than usual. How was she supposed to just shut off her feelings for him now that he was officially going out with Lexie Blackburn?
I have to, she told herself, because by the looks of all the hand-holding going on lately, he’s clearly interested in Lexie and not me.
But a few minutes later, Emma’s mind wandered away from what Ms. Lyons was saying once again. She noticed that Jackson was drawing furiously in his notebook. For the billionth time, Emma wished she could see what he was doing. Oh well, she told herself, now that he’s with Lexie, that’s never going to happen. She forced herself to return her attention to the lesson. There was a test at the end of the week.
The bell finally rang. Emma stood and then looked down to shove her textbook back in her bag. She swung around to leave and then—crash! She and Jackson smashed right into each other. Emma fell sideways, grabbing the desk for support. Jackson lost his balance and landed right back in his chair, dropping his notebook as he went down.
Emma scrambled to stand. “I’m so sorry! That was totally my fault. I wasn’t looking.”
Jackson seemed stunned for a second. Then he shook it off. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She leaned down, picked up his notebook, and as she handed it back to him, she felt the same jolt of excitement she had experienced at the school assembly—something electric. And unless Emma was imagining it, the half-smile on Jackson’s face made Emma think that he had felt it, too.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the notebook back with one hand as he reached up to push his hair away from his forehead with his other.
Suddenly feeling bold, Emma asked, “Can I see what you’ve been drawing? I mean, I just happened to notice that you spent most of class drawing something, and I was just…curious.”
Jackson looked surprised but not angry or insulted. He scanned the classroom. Most everyone had already left, leaving the room empty except for the two of them and a couple of kids talking with Ms. Lyons up at her desk. He opened his notebook and leaned toward Emma so only she could see. Their shoulders were almost touching.
The margins of the pages were filled with the most amazing comic-book art. “Wow. So cool.”
“You draw and stuff, right?” Jackson asked.
“Yeah.” Now it was Emma’s turn to be surprised. She instinctively patted the sketch pad tucked away in her bag. She had no idea that Jackson had noticed that she drew. All this time she’d thought she was the one staring at him.
“And you really think this is good?” he asked, his face open and vulnerable.
Emma couldn’t believe he was asking for her opinion. “Totally. I really like what you’ve done with the style. It’s bold and simple—in a good way, I think, because it’s not too detailed or busy. I also like the way the characters seem to jump off the pages, like they’re three-dimensional. See, here?” She pointed to figure of a guy holding a book in one hand and a sword in the other. “He’s totally great. He looks like someone we’d know but also a hero at the same time.”
“Exactly!” Jackson said enthusiastically. “That’s what I was going for!”
At that moment, Lexie appeared in the doorway to the classroom.
“Hey, Jackson! I’ve been waiting for you at your locker.” Lexie was wearing a dress so short that Emma was positive it was meant to be a shirt. Even so, she looked beyond amazing in it. “Come on!”
Jackson closed his notebook and gathered the rest of his stuff. Emma put her bag down on the desk and pretended to reorganize her things. He started to make his way over to meet Lexie, waiting impatiently at the door. Then he stopped and ripped a page from his notebook. He handed it to Emma without a word. In a few long strides, he was out the door with Lexie. Emma could hear her giggles echoing down the hall, the sound slowly fading into general hallway chatter.
Emma closed her eyes to let the Jackson “moment” sink in. When she opened them again, she looked down at the page he had given her. It was the drawing of the hero that she especially liked. Emma tucked it into her own sketchbook for safekeeping—right between her own sketches of Allegra Biscotti’s next collection.
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Document ID: 60297703-db50-49a0-a356-0cdc47a524e5
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 18 January 2012
Created using: FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
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