by Coco Simon
“Bye!” I said, and hung up.
“What’s up?” asked my mom.
“Mona got the Jaden Sacks account! She’s going to carry the line for good!”
“Great!” said my mom. “And more work for you?”
I nodded happily. “I’m going to model at the launch, a month from today, and Mona wants a big splashy cupcake order for the party.”
“That’s wonderful, dear. I’m so happy for you.”
I hugged myself a little, feeling great, and picked my laptop back up. “I’ve got to let the others know.”
“Okay, I’ll call you for dinner in a little while.”
Upstairs, I shot out a quick e-mail to the group to let them know about our new job. Alexis replied instantly, saying we’d brainstorm during our baking session at Mia’s tomorrow, and I got to work on my homework. There was quite a lot of it.
At Mia’s the next day, we were all buzzing with ideas for the Jaden Sacks launch party. Alexis suggested minis with Jaden Sacks’s logo (it’s an intertwined J and S inside a heart) on them, which I thought was cute but might be hard to execute. Mia suggested we create a stencil in the shape of the logo and just sift pale blue sugar through it onto each cupcake, and we agreed that would be really cool. But it was Katie who reminded us of our early days and of one of our ideas for Mia’s mom’s wedding, which had been to do a cupcake tower with tiers, so it looked like a wedding cake. And that was it, we were sold.
As the Kramers’ cupcakes baked, Mia sketched a design on a piece of paper, and we all crowded around her, offering ideas and details. Katie thought fresh flowers would look pretty—maybe with some ivy hanging down—and we agreed, but Alexis cautioned us about cost, reminding us we didn’t want to lose money on this project. In the end we were set on a plan, and Alexis promised to cost it out and get Mona’s sign-off on it.
“Girls! Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. Valdes was home.
“In here, Mom!” called Mia.
“Oh, I’m so happy you’re all here, mis amores! I have some great news!” Mrs. Valdes was beaming, her dark hair piled atop her head in a gorgeous bun, and a fitted dark-gray turtleneck sweater and black leggings completing her casual-chic weekend look. She was such a glamorous mom.
Mia looked up, and her mom reached to wipe a trace of powdered sugar off her cheek.
“I just ran into an old magazine colleague of mine, and we had a long chat. She was filling me in on what she does these days, and guess what? She’s a food stylist and photographer. She’s just starting up her own studio in the city, so she offered to take some photos of your cupcake creations for free if she could use them for publicity!” Mrs. Valdes clapped her hands happily and did a little dance in place, tossing her head from side to side.
“Awesome!” I cried, and all us Cupcakers hooted and high-fived.
“Now, maybe we can do a website!” said Alexis. “I’ve been pricing it out for a while, and this could be just the thing that makes the numbers work—free publicity photos!”
“When would we do the shoot?” asked Katie.
“Whenever you like, but the sooner the better. And weekends are fine!” said Mrs. Valdes.
“Cool! Thanks, Mami!” Mia gave her mom a big hug. “Our cupcakes are going to be models! Just like Emma!”
We all laughed.
“So what should we make for the portfolio?” asked Katie eagerly.
Mrs. Valdes laughed, then said, “I’ll leave you to the important part. Just let me know what day you’d like for me to set it up.” And off she went to make herself an espresso at the fancy machine on the counter.
We began brainstorming, with me taking notes. Alexis decided we needed to make ten examples of our “greatest hits,” and we started to list them. Among them we had clown cupcakes that we did for little kids’ birthdays (with an upside-down ice-cream cone as a clown hat on top); Jake Cakes (“dirt with worms” cupcakes, like we made for my brother Jake’s birthday); caramel cupcakes with bacon frosting (my invention); minis, like we make for Mona; little “gift” cupcakes, like we made for Alexis’s sister Dylan’s sweet sixteen; the tiered wedding cake idea; Millionaires, which had expensive ingredients; and more. We started to realize it would be a lot to coordinate, and some of the cupcakes would be hard to transport (like the tiered wedding cake), so maybe we wouldn’t do them all. But as Mia pointed out, a lot of them we could assemble at the studio, so it was really only a matter of bringing in the supplies. We narrowed it down to ten and then voted to confirm it.
This was going to be so much fun! We ordered pizza and then spent the day finishing the Kramers’ cupcakes and refining our plan for the shoot. Of course, Alexis wasn’t wild about spending a lot of money on supplies for cupcakes we wouldn’t be selling, but we pointed out that business development is priceless, and she relented.
It was late afternoon by the time we’d finished with the Kramers and everything, and I headed home for Sunday dinner. I found my parents at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes, and the timing was perfect for us to discuss Alana Swenson. My mom had already filled in my dad, so all I had to do was beg.
“Please, Dad! Don’t you see what a great opportunity this would be?”
My dad sighed. “I guess I’m unsure of your motivations. Is it the money? Are you interested in fame? Do you enjoy the process? Is it more fun than the other stuff you do and so you don’t mind making sacrifices? It would be easier for me if I understood where you’re coming from,” he said.
I had to stop and think about all that for a minute. He raised some good points. After a moment I said, “All of it, I guess. I love making money. It’s fun to be all girlie and get dressed up and be around pretty clothes and stuff. It’s exciting to have people see your picture in the paper, and it would be neat to have some more of that. I don’t know about fame. That seems like a lot of work. But I’d like to be recognized, anyway, as a model. That would be cool.” It felt weird saying it—like, kind of embarrassing—but it was true. I looked over my shoulder to make sure Matt hadn’t snuck up behind me to eavesdrop and then torture me with my confession later. But the coast was clear, thank goodness.
“And the sacrifices?” my dad prompted.
I shrugged. “I already make a lot of sacrifices for work. I’m used to it,” I said. “Dog walking, Cupcake Club, babysitting, The Special Day . . . ”
My dad and mom looked at each other, and both seemed to be thinking.
Finally, my mom said, “Well, I guess we should at least give it a try. Emma, you certainly have a great work ethic, and I’d like to encourage that. Let’s see what this Alana Swenson says, and we’ll take it from there. But here are the ground rules: A parent will always go with you. The work has to be age appropriate. You will put ninety percent of your earned money into savings, and you can keep ten percent to spend.” My mom was ticking things off on her potato-peely fingers. She looked at my dad. “What am I forgetting?”
“Good grades,” he offered.
“Right. Your grades must stay above a B plus average, or we take a break from the modeling. And that’s not just because we’re worried about it eating into your study time, though we are. It’s because your schoolwork and brain development matter more than your looks, and they always will. That is our priority in this family. And no big egos, okay?”
I was so excited, I would have agreed to anything. I jumped up and hugged them both. “Great! Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad! I can’t wait! Can I go tell my friends?”
My dad laughed. “Sure. They can say they knew you when . . . ”
But my mom said, “Honey, I don’t mean to be a killjoy, but let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We haven’t even spoken with this Swenson person yet. . . . ”
The next day my mom spoke to Ms. Swenson while I was at school, and it went well. She relayed the conversation to me when I got home, and I guess it was a pretty short one. Ms. Swenson said her friend from the store had called her to tell her she’d given us the business card and to look out for us since I was
“beautiful” and “very natural” (!!!!). Ms. Swenson told my mom to e-mail her five casual, nonprofessional photos of me with no makeup or hair styling, in certain poses. But she said that this was just a formality: If her scout thought I was a fit, then I probably was. We’d meet as soon as possible and get things rolling (her words). And that was the whole conversation!
Needless to say, I wanted to take the photos and e-mail them in immediately, but my mom said since my dad was a great photographer, we’d have him come home early from work the next day and take the photos in the backyard. Also needless to say, when I told the Cupcakers this news, they all insisted on coming over for the shoot, and Mia said she’d have her mom put a few looks together for her to bring to me before she went to a meeting in the city.
At lunch the next day, Mia, Katie, Alexis, and I were sitting together (of course), discussing the outfits Mia had packed for me, when Olivia Allen came walking by with her crew.
“Hey, Emma, how’s the modeling going?” she asked, all interested and cool. She waved breezily at Mia and ignored Katie and Alexis, as usual. Mia had been Olivia’s first friend when she moved to Maple Grove, but Olivia had dumped her in favor of the more trendy popular girls, Callie, Maggie, and Bella. Now she acted kind of friendly to Mia but never called her or invited her to anything. Mia didn’t care anymore, but it made me mad on her behalf.
“Oh, it’s going . . . ,” I said, letting my words just trail off vaguely. I didn’t want to let her in on any more information, but unfortunately Katie didn’t get my hint.
“Emma has an agent! A famous one!” said Katie.
I glared at her for blabbing, but she didn’t notice.
Olivia’s eyes widened, and she turned back to look at me a little more carefully this time. “Well, my goodness, that’s exciting!” she said, sounding like a grown-up. “I doubt I would have ever heard of any of the agents around here, but try me. Who is it?” She arranged her face into kind of a bored expression.
Now I was annoyed, and this made me competitive. I couldn’t wait for her reaction. “Alana Swenson,” I said, all casual.
Olivia’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Her face turned bright red. “Did you say Alana Swenson? Are you kidding me? She’s the top agent in the world! I am freaking out right now!”
And she did look like she was freaking out.
Olivia spluttered, “I need to go call my mom! I mean, I . . . I nearly signed with Alana a couple of years ago, but then . . . well, my mom thought I was getting overexposed or something. . . . ” She blushed and looked away.
Right.
“Do you have her number?” she pressed.
“It’s at home,” I said, shrugging.
“Oh, right. Wow. Okay. Uh . . . I’ve gotta go. Talk to you very, very soon,” she said. And she was off, with her gang tagging along.
“I can’t wait,” I said to her back as she disappeared from sight.
“Typical Olivia Allen, hot and cold,” said Alexis. “One day she’s your best friend; the next day you’re dead to her. She likes to keep ’em guessing.”
“Trust me, I’m not guessing!” I said, and we all laughed.
“You know the only modeling she’s ever done was a baby food commercial when she was, like, one year old,” said Mia quietly.
“Whaaaat?” I couldn’t believe that! “Are you sure?”
Mia nodded. “I mean, I guess she might have been trying off and on since then to get more work, but that’s the only actual job she’s ever had. She sent me the link on YouTube.”
“Oh, we have got to see that!” said Alexis. “Priceless.”
“Wait, but if the commercial is, like, twelve years old, then how come it’s on YouTube?” asked Katie. “YouTube wasn’t even invented then!”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Olivia put it up, of course!” she said.
“Oh boy.” I was embarrassed for Olivia now. “Shoot me if I ever get that cuckoo about modeling, okay? Promise!”
“We will, don’t worry! If you get too big for your britches, well . . . just watch out!” Alexis wagged her finger at me.
I laughed. “I knew I could count on you.” But inside I felt a little pang. I wish I could have them around during the jobs. Modeling was kind of lonely. Oh well. At least the money was good.
CHAPTER 7
Alana Swenson
After school the girls came to my house, we all had a snack, and then Mia dressed me up. The outfits were cute, with Mrs. Valdes’s signature touches—great scarves in gorgeous colors, a fun slouchy hat to crush on my head, cool earrings—and other than that, totally age appropriate (as my mom would say) clothes that I would normally wear. I was psyched. The looks were great, and Mrs. Valdes and Mia had organized each outfit with coordinating accessories zipped into a Ziploc bag and taped to the hanger. It couldn’t have been easier to get dressed!
My dad came home as I was ready in my first look and my mother was fighting off Mia, who had a tube of dark lipstick in her hand.
“She said no makeup!” my mother protested, laughing as she tried to grab the lipstick from Mia’s hand.
“Please, Mrs. Taylor! A strong lip would just complete the whole look!” Mia giggled, dodging out of my mom’s reach.
“A strong lip!” My dad laughed incredulously as he walked into the room. “That sounds like something you’d get from an enemy in the schoolyard!”
“Oh, Dad!” I said. “You’re hopeless!”
“Let’s get this show on the road!” my dad instructed, hoisting his camera.
Mia gave up on the lipstick, and we tumbled out into the backyard where my mom had hung a white flat sheet over the back fence. The light was pretty good, according to my dad, since the sun was kind of low in the sky. He took a bunch of photos of me in the first outfit, with the Cupcakers all oohing and aahing as I went through the poses Alana Swenson had asked for: three-quarter turn, head-on, looking up, head shot, and full body. My mom would later send her my measurements.
We worked our way through the three outfits Mia had put together, and I tried to be patient with my dad, pretending he was a professional, just like Joachim, but it was not easy. Just as we were finishing the third outfit, the phone rang, and my mom went inside to answer it.
“Honey, it’s someone called Olivia Allen? I told her you were in the middle of something, and she said she just needs a phone number from you?” my mom called from the back door.
The Cupcakers and I all looked at one another in shock.
“OMG!” I said. “The nerve!”
Alexis was shaking her head.
“Pushy, pushy,” said Katie.
“What are you going to do?” asked Mia.
I thought for a second. “Just tell her to google it. It’ll come up,” I called back to my mom.
My mom gave me the thumbs-up, but was back in a flash. “She wants to know if she can use your name.”
Now my jaw dropped at the nerve. “NO!” I yelled so emphatically that my mom raised her palms in the air, like, Sorry, I’m just the messenger.
“Wow!” I said to my friends, shaking my head.
“Over here, Emma! Stay focused!” called my dad, then muttered, “I can’t believe I actually just said that.”
“Yes, focus, Emma, for goodness’ sake!” said Alexis, all fake businesslike. She made a funny face at me, and seeing her, so did Katie. Pretty soon my friends were all hamming it up, and my dad told them if they were going to work so hard, they should be in the photos too.
“Hey! A group shot for our website!” said Alexis.
Mia laughed. “Of course. All for business!”
“Well, you never know,” said Alexis as my dad snapped away, the four of us in different silly, cute, and serious poses. It was really fun, and I have to say I liked it better when I wasn’t the only one in the frame.
Later, after everyone had left, I got an IM from Olivia. It said,
Swenson wants me too! Yay! Modeling buddies!
I wanted to throw up.
>
Two days later I was sitting in Alana Swenson’s waiting area with my mom after having taken the train into the city after school. I couldn’t believe how fast things were moving, but I was pretty psyched. I hadn’t seen Olivia at school since she’d told me she was also signing with Alana Swenson, so I planned on mentioning her to Alana to see what she said. I had a sneaky feeling what Olivia had said wasn’t true, but I couldn’t be sure.
My parents and I had selected five photos the night my dad had taken them, and my mom had e-mailed them. We heard back from Alana that very night. She replied to my mom’s e-mail, asking her to call her assistant in the morning to book an appointment. I think my parents were kind of rattled by the speed of the whole thing too, but they were trying to act like they were in control.
Alana Swenson’s waiting area was windowless, stark, and modern—all black and gray rugs and upholstery, and very hushed, except for the phones, which purred and buzzed nonstop. There were six beautiful young women at a long counterlike desk, answering the phones. The women were all different ethnicities, like a United Nations of model wannabes, and they all wore headsets and spoke so quietly into them that I couldn’t hear a thing they were saying.
We were the only visitors.
Exactly thirty seconds after our appointment time, a door opened and another beautiful young woman silently beckoned us with a curved finger. We stood and followed her down a quiet hall, dim and spare, passing closed doors on either side until reaching the final closed door at the very end of the hall. The woman tapped on the door and opened it, and I had to wince at the instant brightness.
There were wraparound windows and gold everywhere—gold desk, gold-tiled floor, golden lamps, gold painted walls—the whole room glowed gold.
And sitting at the desk in a gold swivel chair was a tiny woman with golden hair pulled back into a tight bun, and gold-framed glasses on her tiny nose. She was the size of a child!
“Hello, Taylors! I am Alana Swenson!” Despite her size, she had the raspy, booming voice of a very large person. I was totally caught off guard. I wanted to laugh, but managed it down to just a big grin.
