Chintzy stops writhing instantly. “What did you tell them?” she asks hysterically.
“About your father’s trip to Malaysia and the mysterious virus he contracted that turns out to be highly contagious,” I say, nastily.
“If I lose my job, I’m going to leak all your designs all over the Internet to get back at you, cuz I didn’t do anything!” she screeches, turning even nastier. “And I’m going to tell them you’re lying, because my father lives in Larchmont and he’s a janitor and I can prove it!”
“So his trip to Malaysia for Save the Children was just a charade?” Elgamela says, satisfied that we finally caught Chintzy in a bald-faced lie.
“So what? I made it up!” shrieks Chintzy. “I just did that because my father never comes to see us and I wanted to impress everybody. That doesn’t mean I had anything to do with that stupid virus, or that I’m a double agent. That’s insulting. And you can’t prove it!”
“So you’re saying that my sister, Chenille, is a liar—and she didn’t see you with Shalimar in the dark in the activator room plotting against me?” I reiterate for clarification.
“Get off me and I’ll talk,” Chintzy says, writhing again.
We let her get off the floor and Felinez throws her ponytail piece in her face. “I hate you!” Chintzy snarls.
“Not as much as we hate you!” shouts Aphro. “I can’t believe you, sitting up there in the Catwalk meeting, dropping the dime on my job, but you neglected to tell us who your ‘boss’ really is!”
“I do know Shalimar. So what? I’m saying if you try to get me disqualified, I’ll tell Ms. Lynx that you’re telling lies because you’re jealous of me and you stole my designs. Then you’ll get disqualified as house leader!”
“Do you really think telling more lies is going to make this a better situation?” Elgamela asks in disbelief.
“I need the money and the job for my family. You would do the same thing. You don’t live in a situation like I do,” Chintzy says, starting up with the tears again.
“Hold up,” says Aphro. “What money are you talking about? It’s an internship.”
“The money Shalimar gave me,” confesses Chintzy, gritting her teeth in despair like she has finally gotten the dancing bears off her chest.
We freeze, staring at Chintzy in disbelief. “Wow, you don’t fabricate, you give shades of Watergate,” I exclaim, plopping back onto the couch in shock.
“If you try to get me in trouble, I will get you in trouble,” declares Chintzy, finally playing her hand.
“So you actually want us to keep you in our house so you can continue to spy on us for Shalimar?” asks Angora, sitting straight up on the couch like she’s finally registering the level of Chintzy’s deception.
Chintzy doesn’t respond; instead, she pulls her short hair out of the elastic band and smooths it back again. I watch in shock. All of a sudden, my mother’s voice pops into my head. “Never trust anyone who always wears the same hairstyle,” I say out loud, gaining the strength to play my next hand. “Look, all we want is you out of our house. We’re thinking perhaps you can get a little more mileage out of your father’s fabricated trip to Malaysia than you expected.”
“What do you mean?” asks Chintzy, stone-faced.
“You’re going to go to Ms. Lynx’s office tomorrow and file a Catwalk competition release form so you can be excused from your obligations as a team member due to ‘extended family problems and complications,’ ” I suggest. “Your poor father’s condition has worsened and he requires your constant attention, because your mother is working and you have to take care of your brothers and sisters, too. You get my drift?”
“I’ll think about it,” Chintzy says, blandly, like she refuses to give up her elaborate espionage.
Aphro starts to say something nasty, but I cut her off. “Okay, you think about it. That’s fair.”
Somberly, Chintzy gets up to go.
“You’d better hope we don’t lose the Design Challenge because of you,” warns Aphro.
“It’s not my fault. I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Chintzy maintains.
“Well, tell Victor that virus of his is more powerful than a Russian missile,” I retort.
Chintzy’s face drops, and for the first time, I see the cuckoo bird popping out from inside the clock.
After she leaves, I sit stunned. “Now I understand what a psychopath is,” I say, taking it all in. In psychology class, we studied personality disorders and I couldn’t have been more bored. “I have just seen shades of straight-up shady. I could teach Mr. Treech’s Psychology 101 class with enthusiasm.”
“She is so sneaky she could sell blue Icees to the Eskimos,” agrees Felinez.
After a little while we go back to decorating the Christmas tree with renewed appreciation.
“She turned more leaky than sneaky whenever her father came up, though,” Elgamela observes.
“That’s true. I thought she was going to fold like it’s laundry day, but she was so convincing, she could have starred in a remake of The Three Faces of Eve. I sure misjudge people,” Angora says, folding her arms across her chest. “Speaking of laundry, where is Je’Taime?”
The doorbell rings, prompting Angora to say, “Maybe she left her keys,” and jump up to answer it. I hear her talking to a man in the hallway before she closes the door with an envelope in her hand. “That was Mr. Gahneff, the building manager. My mother wired him the arrears for the rent,” Angora says in disbelief. “I can’t believe it.” Angora’s hands shake and she starts wheezing.
“Come sit down!” We grab Angora to head for the couch. She sits there quietly for a second, the envelope dropping out of her hand. “Why can’t you believe it? The only alternative would have been her only daughter and her ex-husband on the sidewalk, and despite what you say, I don’t think your mother is that vindictive,” I assure her.
“No, I can’t believe that she’s downstairs,” Angora says, turning as pale as a Victorian poster child. “She told Mr. Gahneff to tell us to come downstairs and help her with her luggage—all ten pieces.”
We gasp, but Angora starts giggling. “I got my secret wish after all.”
“What wish?” I ask, holding her hand.
“I prayed last night that if I got to spend Christmas in New York with all of you, then I would never complain about anything again, so now God is holding me to it—and the proof is right downstairs!”
All of a sudden, the Christmas tree topples over.
“Omigod,” says Elgamela, jumping up to stand it vertically again.
“Ay, Dios mio!” exclaims Felinez, helping. “We don’t want Ms. Le Bon to see the tree like this!”
“Oh, why not?” chuckles Angora. “It’ll give her something else to complain about.”
“Don’t think she came all this way without notice to complain,” I exclaim, adamantly. “She came because she loves you, Angora. And so do we.”
Now Je’Taime comes back from the laundry room. “Are you coming downstairs to help?”
“Not just yet,” yelps Angora. “This is way more important.”
The five of us kiss and hug each other tightly.
“Who knows what is going to happen with all this craziness?” I confess. “But this Christmas we were meant to be together and spend it in meowverlous fashion.”
FASHION INTERNATIONAL 35th ANNUAL CATWALK COMPETITION BLOG
New school rule: You don’t have to be ultranice, but don’t get tooooo catty, or your posting will be zapped by the Fashion Avengers!
“V” IS FOR VICTORY!
As my mother would say, “the money was definitely funny this year,” but I still had a meowverlous Christmas—mostly because I got to spend it with my crew. I’m proud that we made the commitment to strap ourselves in and fasten our Gucci belts so we could take the roller coaster ride of the season and ended up screaming our heads off together. It was a furbulous blast. Now it’s the New Year, and until today, the letter “V” always stood for “vi
cuna,” “Velcro,” “Versace,” “virus,” and sometimes even “Volvo,” the beat-up car that my old neighbor Mr. Chisolm drives. But thanks to the announcement that the House of Pashmina won the Design Challenge this year—pocketing the $300 bonus prize that others thought for sure had their name on it—“V” also stands for “victory”! Can I scream any louder? I don’t think so, or Principal Mario Confardi will have me expelled! Naturally, I can’t speak for the Catwalk Committee and tell you why we were chosen as the winners—nor can I let our fashion secrets out of the bag just yet—but I can tell you that this victory has given me the freedom to say that I don’t care about those who aren’t aligned with my goals anymore! I’m also not so afraid to stretch my kitty limbs and admit that I have always dreamed of being on the runways of the world on a grand scale—which is probably why I now have the resolve to stick to my New Year’s resolution: live my life to my purrlicious potential! For me, personally, every day on earth is like New Year’s, because I’m always amazed at all the abundance and interesting, courageous people who populate this planet. Of course, if you show me a Martian who isn’t wearing an outfit the dreadful color of split pea—and who has purrlicious potential that I want to emulate—I can assure you that I’ll become fascinated with them, too. Until then, I will continue to worship the earthly feline fatales, like Julie Newmar and the legendary Catwoman Eartha Kitt, with her infamous, unimitable purr.
But don’t get it French twisted: I’m not from the suburbs and I know the earth is a dangerous, crazy place, and that’s not only because I grew up in the Boogie Down and now live in Harlem, but because I also watch The Discovery Channel to stay in the loop with someone on my team who is more obsessed with the well-being of four-legged creatures on this earth than I am. But I’m proud to say that I’m part of a new breed of feline fatales, coming up ferocious and fearless, who are waiting in the wings for a chance to pounce on stardom and success and to be a shining, sparkly example from head to toe. As I wait for my turn to unleash my meowch power to the maximus, I’m surprised at what I’m most grateful for: the fact that I’m not alone. I think I’m luckier than most people on this planet, because I was fortunate enough to be appointed a house leader in a prestigious competition. This has given me access to a whole posse of purr-worthy kats and kitties from whom I can draw my strength and with whom I can share all the things that life in the fashion lane has to offer. I may fight with members of my Catwalk crew, and I admit that I was terrified over the holidays that I would lose one I adore, and I just found out that still another member—my former assistant—has already made the decision to depart due to family constraints, but I have been shown recently that I can’t master my mighty plan without them and I don’t intend to. So this shout-out is for my special purrlicious posse, because we’re in this together till June. And to everyone else, happy new year!!!
Posted by Feline Groovy at
12:34:05
Glossary
24-7: Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. As in “I have to study 24-7 to raise my grade point average.”
A hyphenate waiting to happen: Someone who is multitalented and can’t be crunched into one category. Back in the day, the typical hyphenated professionals were model-actress, writer-performer, illustrator-photographer, et cetera, but new-school ones are model-blinger, modelpreneur, model-spinner, modelblogger, et cetera.
Assisterance: Sisterhood assistance, or aid from a sassy source. As in “Don’t leave me dangling after the fashion show, because I’m definitely going to require some assisterance, purr favor!”
AWOL: When your designated fashion is missing in action—especially backstage at a fashion show. As in “Where is Elgamela’s cover-up for the bathing suit segment? Omigod, it’s gone AWOL!”
Big Willie: A major player in the fashion game. Someone who has earned street cred. Can also refer to the Big Willie statue—the prestigious bronze dress-form trophy bestowed upon the winner of the annual Catwalk competition at Fashion International High School. The award’s name was chosen in honor of the school’s founding father, William Dresser.
Blang: Bling squared.
Bona fried: Upset. Pissed off. Angry to a crisp. Legit. Authentic. As in “I can’t believe Aphro told Lupo I’m gagulating over Zeus. Now I’m really bona fried.”
Boogie Down: The Bronx is often referred to in hip-hop slang as the Boogie Down since rap pioneer KRS-One publicly cited the northernmost borough in New York City as the source of his inspiration.
Catwalk: A narrow, usually elevated platform used by models to “sashay, shimmy, and sell” designers’ clothing and accessory collections during a fashion show. This British term was originally coined after designer Lucy Christiana, aka Lady Duff-Gordon, staged the first fashion show in London in the early 1900s.
Chevron formation: A procession of models in an inverted V-shape on the catwalk during a fashion show.
Chewing on gristle: Pondering a problem. As in “Don’t act like nothing is wrong, cuz I can tell that you’re chewing on gristle.”
Churl: Girl and child rolled into one and used as a term of endearment or when putting someone on blast. As in “Churl, please, you’re not the fifth element, so you best keep it moving!”
Ciao: Italian for “good-bye.” Pronounced like dog “chow.” As in “Ciao, ciao, Manny Hanny!”
Convo: Conversation. Chitchat. As in “What’s up with all that convo with shady Shalimar?”
Crispy crescendo: Fiery finale that punctuates a heated convo or dispute. As in “My fight with Ice Très ended with a crispy crescendo. You can believe that.”
Dolce: Italian for “sweet.” Pronounced “dull-chay.” As in “Next week is Spring Break. That’s definitely dolce.” Also used when referring to the dynamic design duo Dolce & Gabbana.
Don’t come for me: A battle cry. As in “Don’t come for me, Miss Purr. I know you wanted to go shopping Saturday, but some of us had to study for the trig test on Monday!”
Don’t get it French twisted: Get it right. Leave the kiddie antics in the playground. Don’t get the situation wrong, or sleep on it. As in “Don’t get it French twisted. Willi Ninja, Jr., may be fierce, but the House of Pashmina is fiercer.”
Du jour: French for “of the day.” As in “Frog legs with asparagus is the soup du jour. Would you like to try it, mademoiselle?”
Fashionista: Someone who is true to the fashion game.
Fiberoni: An omission of truth. In other words, a pink, purple, or psychedelic lie. As in “Stop with the fiberonis. I know you’ve been slipping into the Fashion Lounge to avoid me in the hallways!”
Flaunting the fierceness: Knowing how to work the runway or having great style. As in “Did you see Mink’s new Burberry raincoat? She is always flaunting the fierceness!”
Fries my frittata: To make angry, agitated, pissed off. “Did you hear that Chandelier tried to get her house leader nomination back after going MIA? That really fries my frittata that she doesn’t just go back to the sandbox and build another sand castle!”
Friv: Frivolous. Silly. As in “I don’t mean to sound friv, but when are we going shopping, cuz I’m tired of studying for this exam?”
Furbulous: Feline fatale code for “fabulous.”
Gaspitate: Swoon. As in “Forget about Ice Très. I’m all over Zeus. He makes me gaspitate.”
Haute couture: French for “high fashion,” but technically refers to the creation of exclusive designer custom-fitted collections like those from the House of Yves Saint Laurent or Balenciaga. It originally referred to Englishman Charles Frederick Worth’s creations, produced in Paris back in the day. Today, however, the prestigious term is used only by firms that meet certain well-defined standards. Haute couture collections are still staged for the runway in Paris and Rome, but they’re also made-to-order for the elite customers—from Milan to Tokyo—who crave hand-executed techniques.
Homme: French for “man.” Pronounced like home without the h.
In flagrante: Raw. Exposed.
Caught in the act. As in “Thank gooseness Caterina came too late to film our Pose Off in the cafeteria. If Principal Confardi saw in flagrante footage, we’d be exiled to Style Siberia!”
Jean Paul Gaultier: Known worldwide as the enfant terrible (bad boy) of French fashion, the avant-garde designer’s corsetry and leather work are sought after by everyone from Madonna to Kylie Minogue. He also designed the fierce, memorable costumes for the chic cult 1997 film The Fifth Element.
Juvvie: Juvenile delinquent. A person under eighteen who is arrested and charged as a minor. As in “I hear she’s got a juvvie record. All I can say is that orange prison jumpsuit is not a cute look, hello!”
Kaflustered: Agitated. As in “I could not believe Nole went on and on about Ice Très and Shalimar—so insensitive to my kaflustered state!”
Keep it moving: Don’t get caught up. Move on to the next taste sensation! As in “I can’t believe Zeus didn’t call me. Well, I guess I’d better just keep it moving.”
Le podium: French for “runway” or “catwalk.”
Lite FM: Opposite of heavy or stressed. As in “Why you stressing over Zeus? He’s got a girlfriend. Just keep it Lite FM when you see him in the hallways.”
Manny Hanny: Manhattan—the center jewel in the crown of the Big Apple. Also, the undisputed fashion capital of the world.
Meowverlous: Feline fabbie. As in “Elgamela looks meowverlous in the black catsuit.”
Miss Thing: A term of endearment for a friend, frenemy, or opponent. As in “Miss Thing, I will feng shui the floor with your fierceness!”
Non-coloric: Colors without calories. In other words, drabby, dreary, nondescript, or just plain neutral like Switzerland. As in “Her outfits are always so non-coloric.”
Pronto: Italian salutation used when answering the phone. Also means presto, soon, rapid, or quick. Pronounced “pron-toe.” As in “I’d better get to class, pronto, or Mrs. London is going to read me!”
Purr favor: Catwalk code for “pretty please.” As in “Can you help me with my Italian homework, purr favor?”
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