Fashion Fraud
Collection
Fashion Fraud
Collection
JAMIE CAMPBELL
Copyright © 2015 Jamie Campbell
Smashwords Edition
Jamie Campbell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author
“I don’t do fashion. I am fashion.”
- Coco Chanel
The Fashion Fraud Series:
FASHION FRAUD
FASHION FRIENDS
FASHION FINDS
FASHION FAUX PAS
.
Fashion
Fraud
CHAPTER 1
I don’t know what they expected of me. Seriously. If they asked me to make a cushion in the stupid home economics class, they should have been more specific. Apparently it had to be square. Apparently it had to be beige. And apparently it wasn’t supposed to have any sequins.
My star-shaped neon pink sparkly cushion was outside the box, I admit. But at least it had flare. It had color and personality. Unlike every other beige square cushion in the class.
“Truly Winx, when you are going to learn to follow instructions?” the teacher, Mrs. Swayze, asked me. It took a moment for me to work out she was really waiting for an answer. Apparently it wasn’t rhetorical.
“I guess it’s going to take a while longer,” I replied, not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I was going to pay for that later.
Mrs. Swayze sighed so deeply I was pretty certain she was going to run out of breath and keel over. “Miss Winx, just… never mind.” She moved on to the next desk. Color me stunned. Mrs. Swayze must have been losing her touch, normally I would have landed in detention for that comment.
I watched in awestruck silence as she made her way around the room. Finally, she ended up in the front row. She examined the cushion of Jane Davis, otherwise known as Plain Jane. Which described her cushion perfectly. It was as square as it was bland.
“Miss Davis, this is perfect,” Mrs. Swayze exclaimed happily as she inspected the colorless lump. “The stitching is superb, so neat and straight. Another A+ is headed your way.”
She returned the cushion as Jane beamed with pride. I hated her. Just because she followed the instructions down to the minutest detail, handed her project in on time, and sucked up to the teacher, she got the good grade.
I looked at my sparkly number. Sure, the seams might not be straight and some of the sequins had already fallen off, but it was pretty. In fact, it was outright gorgeous. It deserved an A+ too, no matter what Mrs. Swayze or anyone else thought.
When the bell rang, I picked up my cushion and shoved it into my backpack. I would have carried it, but the sequins really were falling off everywhere. Unless I wanted to make a trail to my locker, the thing had to be contained.
As I was leaving the home economics room, a poster on the billboard caught my eye. It was new. I knew that because I had spent countless hours staring at the board while Mrs. Swayze went on about drop stitches or something like that.
The poster was for a fashion design competition. The first prize was a thousand dollars and a chance to intern at one of the biggest fashion houses in the city. Both things I could have done with.
I tore down the poster before Mrs. Swayze could see and shoved it into my bag. I didn’t want anyone else knowing about the competition and thinking they were going to enter. I had to make sure I had all the chances I could get.
I hurried for my locker, fleeing the scene of the crime as quickly as I could. It wouldn’t take long for old Mrs. Swayze to put two and two together. Somehow, she always came up with Truly Winx as the answer.
“Hey, Truly,” my best friend, Hayley, said as I hurried by. “Where’s the fire?”
I stopped, unsure what she meant. “What fire?”
She rolled her eyes, I still didn’t know what she meant. If there was a fire somewhere, I probably needed to evacuate or something. “What’s with the hurry?”
Oh, I got it. Fire, hurrying, right. “Just keen to get away from old Swayze, that’s all.”
“Well, meet me in the cafeteria, I have so much to tell you about the weekend. I am going to blow your mind.” I shook my head as Hayley walked backwards until she was out of sight.
News of the weekend would have to wait. I made it to my locker and unwrinkled the poster inside so nobody else could see it.
The competition was to design and create a dress. But not just any dress, one so outstanding that it could really be worn by an actual supermodel. The judges were going to consider creativity, fabric use, the fit, and the quality. That was a lot of things.
It had been my dream forever to be a fashion designer. It was literally all I wanted to do since I could remember getting dressed. I lived and breathed fashion, I had to win this competition.
I just had to.
So creativity was easy, I already had a sketchbook full of designs. Fabric use was a little trickier. I had a limited budget. And by limited I mean no budget. I’d have to raid the charity stores for something I might be able to reuse.
The fit I could do. I always made my clothes fit me, so it couldn’t be any harder sizing up someone else. That only left quality. As Mrs. Swayze was so quick to point out, my sewing quality sucked. Me and straight lines did not go together.
If I was going to win that competition, I had to find a way to make sure I had all four points covered off. But it would take me a decade to get better at sewing. I always just assumed when I was a designer I would have a whole warehouse of seamstresses to make the clothes. Why get good at something when others would do it for me?
It had seemed like a great plan. Now, I was starting to see the error of my ways. So that’s why we were supposed to listen to our teachers. Huh. Who would have thought?
I closed my locker and leaned against it, trying to figure out what I was going to do. There had to be some way I could massively improve my skills. I would sew a million beige cushions if that’s what it would take. But there was just no time.
My eyes fell on a group of girls sitting in the courtyard outside, eating their lunch. But it wasn’t them I lingered on. Plain Jane was eating her sandwich by herself just beside them.
A thought was starting to form. Yep, definitely a thought. I knew exactly how I could win that competition.
CHAPTER 2
“Hey, Jane,” I said happily, like I didn’t want something from the girl that was so boring even the color white was too much for her to wear.
Jane eyed me suspiciously. Okay, so it was a little odd that I was talking to her. That didn’t mean I couldn’t be friendly to her. I was friendly with nearly everyone at the school. Some people just chose to think I was being sarcastic and others believed me. That wasn’t my fault.
“Mind if I sit down?” I asked. She didn’t argue so I did it anyway. Silence was the generally accepted norm for acceptance, right? Sure. “So, great cushion in Mrs. Swayze’s class. I was impressed.”
“Thanks.” There was no clue about what she actually thought in that one word.
I continued on fearlessly anyway – despite the fact so much was at stake. I couldn’t mess this up. “How do you feel about partnerships, Jane?”
“Partnerships?” she ask
ed. Okay, so she was still only giving me one word replies. That wasn’t a good sign. Although, she hadn’t told me to go away yet so that was a win.
“Yeah. You see, there’s this fashion design competition coming up. I thought maybe you and me could form a partnership to win it.”
“I’m too busy.”
“But our dress could be made into a real design,” I tried to convince her. The panic buttons were starting to go off in my head. I was losing her.
“I don’t care about winning some stupid fashion competition. I’ve got better things to do.”
“Better than fashion? What are you, Amish?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Because, judging by the way she dressed every day, she could have actually been Amish.
Jane met my gaze, looking me directly in the eyes. “Go away. I’m not interested.”
“Are you sure? I can-”
“I’m sure,” she interrupted my grand speech. It was going to be a good one too.
I guessed I was going to get nowhere with her. While I could normally talk anyone into anything, Jane wasn’t exactly the type I normally influenced. She didn’t like me, that was quite clear.
“Okay, well, if you change your mind…”
“I won’t,” she stated bluntly. Okay, I got it already. The Truly Winx fan club wasn’t one she was a card carrying member of. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I left her to eat lunch alone and didn’t see her for the rest of the day. It took three buses and then a walk of five blocks to reach my home.
After I stepped through the door of our tiny apartment on the sixth floor – walk up, no elevator – all thoughts of the competition disappeared from my mind.
I was the oldest of four kids and my mom worked constantly. She tried her best to juggle everything, but it was always my responsibility to cook dinner every night and help the others with their chores. That only left putting them to bed when my mom got home. She always made sure to read the younger ones a story and kissed us all good night. I didn’t get to see her much.
It wasn’t until I was elbow deep in spaghetti that my mind wandered again. The prizes for the competition were amazing. My family could really use the money and the chance at being a real designer was like every dream of mine coming true all at once.
I had to enter. I had to win. That was it. There was nothing else to figure out. Except I knew my best shot at winning was finding someone who could sew. Like, really sew. Not just throw two pieces of material together and hope they hold.
My mind scanned through everyone in my home economics class. All the boys were out, they were only taking the class to meet girls. That left about twenty options.
I’d worked with a few of the girls on projects before they had been deemed as hopeless as I was. It was the blind leading the blind and I needed someone with twenty-twenty vision.
That left about three people. Plus, Mrs. Swayze? Nah, she would never help me with anything. We’d argue the entire time. So, three girls.
The first was Alicia Laguna. She was nice and all, but she wanted to be a designer too. If I told her about the competition, she would enter it herself. And she would be hard to beat. She was out.
The second was Becca Noble. She smelt. Like, bad. Like lunch left in your bag for three hot days, bad. I didn’t want the judges to be put off by the smell lingering on the dress. That wouldn’t work.
That only left Jane. Dammit. She was literally my only option if I wanted a fighting chance. My mad design skills and her perfect sewing had to combine forces. We would be like fashion design ninjas, unbeatable.
I had all night to come up with a plan and I was determined to succeed this time. Jane was going to enter the competition with me. Whether she liked it or not.
CHAPTER 3
I wore a beige top just so Jane would feel more at home with me. I had to borrow it out of my mom’s closet because nothing I had was that plain. I was kind of proud of the forethought. Thinking before I did something wasn’t exactly my strong point. That’s how much I wanted to win this competition.
I waited by the classroom door, hunting my prey. It was before school but Jane had to walk by eventually. The entire school would pass by the door before the bell rang. I liked my chances.
Waiting, waiting, and there she was. The moment Jane was in front of the door, I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room.
Closing the door, I leaned against it so she couldn’t escape. “Hey, Jane.”
“What are you doing? You gave me a heart attack.” She wasn’t entirely pleased about seeing me, apparently.
“I just wanted to see if you’ve had any more thoughts about that competition I told you about?” I hoped she had forgotten the part about never changing her mind. It was a girl’s prerogative, after all.
“I told you I’m too busy.”
“But it’s going to be awesome. Like, seriously awesome.”
She put one hand on her hip, the way my mom did when she was angry with me. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was going to be awesome, in that case…”
I was excited until I realized she was being sarcastic. One win for the smart girl. I needed to change tactics. “Okay, here’s the thing. I really need to win this competition. It’s my dream to be a fashion designer and winning this would help me get there.”
She softened a little. Well, at least she took her hand off her hip. “It’s great that you have a dream and all. It’s very Martin Luther King of you, but it’s not my dream. Why can’t you enter the competition alone anyway? It doesn’t have to be a team thing.”
“Because I’m all sparkly cushion and you’re all straight sewing. I can’t do it on my own and it’s too late to learn how to really sew.” We were actually having a conversation, that was progress.
“Then you should have thought about that earlier,” she said haughtily. Ugh, I was getting nowhere. The problem was I didn’t know Jane well enough to know what would convince her. I had no idea what she lived and breathed for. If I did, I would promise it to her forever. I would have to guess.
“Look, there is a cash prize for the winner. A thousand bucks, you can have it all if that’s what it takes.” I silently hoped my family would forgive me for that – we really needed the money.
“I’m not interested in money,” she replied. Okay, strike one.
“Our dress could be on a real model, in a real fashion shoot. How great would that be? They’re going to wear the winning design at the awards ceremony and everything.”
Something crossed Jane’s face, she completely changed. My heart leaped. “An award ceremony?” I nodded eagerly – that’s what she latched onto? “Can anyone go? Like parents and stuff?”
“Sure.” Why not? They would probably be invited, right? That would be a problem for another day.
“And you only want me to sew? I don’t have to do any of the design or anything?” It sounded like my little fishy was on the hook.
“Leave all that to me.”
Jane stuck out her hand between us. It took a few moments to register that she wanted us to shake on it. I took her hand and we shook three times exactly.
“Deal,” she said, it was my favorite word of the day.
I was so excited I literally wanted to bounce around the classroom like an idiotic two year old. Instead, I managed to contain myself. “Great, I’ll find you at lunch with my designs and we can pick one.”
I was pretty sure Jane rolled her eyes at me at that point. We left the room and hurried off to first period. The entire morning I was itching for lunch to come around. My sketchpad was burning a hole in my locker and I needed to free it from its prison.
The moment the bell rang at noon, I was like a speeding bullet out of there. Jane was in her usual place in the outside courtyard – alone.
I had my sketchpad out before I even sat down beside her. “These are all my designs. I was thinking we need something really unique to stand out in the crowd.”
Jane placed her sandwich besid
e her, wiped her hands on her pants, and took the book. She carefully flicked through each page. “You have so many drawings in here.”
“I’ve been waiting for something like this my entire life.” It was what I lived for, of course I had so many sketches. I always vowed to be ready when a big designer came knocking on my door and wanted to see my work.
“Have you made any of these before?” Jane asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
I guessed honesty was probably a pretty big deal in a partnership. Besides, my mind was buzzing too much to make up a convincing lie fast enough. “We don’t have any spare cash in my family. Material is expensive. And I don’t have a sewing machine.”
If Jane was surprised, she didn’t let it show on her face. “So you’ve only ever drawn the dresses?” I nodded, she studied me carefully. I crossed my fingers, hoping she wasn’t going to back out already. “Some of these are almost impossible to sew.”
“You don’t like them?” My heart was starting to shrivel into the size of a raisin.
“It’s not that.” She pursed her lips as she studied one particular sketch – a techno-come-rock themed dress. “We just have to make sure the dress is practical too. If a real model is going to be wearing it all night, she’ll need to be able to move.”
“What do you mean?”
“See this?” She pointed to the sleeve of the dress, it was a triangle of fabric that reached right up to the chin. “If she wore this, she wouldn’t be able to turn her head without getting a sore chin. If we brought it back a little, she would have full movement and it wouldn’t compromise the overall impact of the design.”
I looked at the sketch again, with fresh eyes this time. Jane was right. As much as I didn’t want to admit it. That dress would be a cow to wear.
Fashion Fraud Collection Page 1
