Fashion Fraud Collection

by Campbell, Jamie

  I knew the set would be good already. Nothing Jane did was ever anything other than good. In fact, good was short selling it. Everything Jane did was great, down to the finest details.

  Jane was detail orientated. I was more of a big picture thinker. My teacher wrote that on a report card one year, it was her way of saying I lacked focus and was therefore sloppy with the details.

  I took it as a compliment anyway.

  “Of course I’ll be here early,” I replied. “I’ll be here for breakfast if you get your personal chef to make waffles.”

  I was only joking, but apparently Jane didn’t quite get that. “I’ll get Russell to whip up a batch. Say, eight o’clock?”

  I stared at her. “You really have a personal chef?”

  “He cooks for my parents too. So he’s not really my personal chef.” She shrugged.

  I managed to recover myself. “Okay, eight o’clock. I’ll be here.”

  With that decided, Jane drove me home where I entered the reality of my life – sans personal chef. I cut up vegetables and put the dinner on for my family. Huh, I guess I was their personal chef.

  CHAPTER 5

  My fingers were a little sticky from the waffles. I barely had time to wash them before the doorbell of Jane’s house kept ringing. One after the other, all our models started arriving for the photo shoot.

  “This house is amazing,” Lucy gushed, staring wide eyed at everything. I knew how that felt, that was me when I first saw Jane’s mansion.

  “Are you, like, hiring this place for the shoot?” Kinsey asked.

  “No, it’s Jane’s house,” I replied to the assembled group. “Her parents don’t care what we do here as long as nothing is damaged.”

  “Cool.”

  “Super cool.”

  Feeling like a kindergarten teacher, I corralled them all into the downstairs guest room. We had set up mirrors and lights in there, transforming the bedroom into a hair and makeup salon.

  Neither Jane or myself was that great with beauty stuff. I could do my own hair and makeup, but forget about matching skin tones or highlighting for other people. Luckily, Jane managed to talk her parents into springing for a professional. Or maybe she paid for it out of her allowance. She was a little sketchy on the details.

  The girls sat in a row, awaiting their turn. Miss Hair, who I discovered was actually named Ashlee, went first. She sat in the hot seat, watching Miss Mary-Margaret’s every move as she worked on her.

  She had her long blonde hair curled to within an inch of its life, the locks flowing down her back like an amazing waterfall. By the time her makeup was done, Ashlee was barely recognizable.

  And I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

  “Oh my God, Ash. You look like a supermodel,” Miss Glasses, aka Bree, gushed.

  Ashlee’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “You really think so? I mean… I feel so… pretty.”

  “You look pretty,” I said sincerely. I never would have guessed she would scrub up so well. It was amazing what a bit of makeup and hairbrush could do.

  Hayley pushed past everyone. “It’s my turn next.” She sat in the chair and awaited Miss Mary-Margaret’s mastery.

  It took almost two hours to get through everyone. Kristy was last. I was the only one in the room with her by that stage, doing my supervisory task. Jane was getting the others into their outfits and making any size alterations.

  “Are you going to make me look stupid?” Kristy asked as she reluctantly took the hot seat.

  “I’m going to make you look beautiful,” Miss Mary-Margaret replied politely. I think she might have been a bit scared of Misty Kristy. Most people were, she gave off an aura of danger.

  “Maybe try and keep her as natural as possible,” I offered. “Kristy is athletic, we want to keep her look true to her personality.”

  They both seemed satisfied with that. Miss Mary-Margaret applied only the barest of makeup to cover the bruise Kristy had on her cheek, and kept her hair straight. Everything she did brought out Kristy’s natural features. By the end of it, she looked beautiful but still like Kristy.

  Afterwards, Kristy inspected herself in the mirror. “Okay, I don’t look stupid. I’m ready to go.”

  That was a relief.

  I accompanied her upstairs to Jane’s bedroom, otherwise known as the dressing room. She was already waiting for Kristy when we arrived. I handed her over and inspected the other girls.

  This wasn’t a room full of kids from school, all I saw was a room full of models. In our clothes, they looked amazing. The designs that had come out of my head were standing in front of me as final products.

  I wanted to cry with happiness.

  We had really done it. From my sketches, Jane had brought the clothes into existence. But it was the girls who brought them to life.

  “I’m speechless,” I muttered like a fool as they all stared at me.

  “That’s got to be a first,” Kinsey teased.

  “I’m ready for my close up,” Bree said, making all the other book club girls laugh. She struck a pose and pouted, putting all the attitude into modeling. I loved it.

  “Everyone’s dressed!” Jane called out. She sagged with relief.

  “Let’s get this show on the road then,” I said happily. I led the girls back downstairs and found the photographer waiting for us outside.

  And by photographer, I meant Sandy, the girl Jane bribed from my Creative Arts class. She apparently hated Biology homework and that was one of Jane’s specialties. She would be doing her homework for a month to pay for our shoot.

  We had discussed with Sandy what kind of photos we wanted beforehand so she was ready to work as soon as the girls were all assembled.

  She started by doing individual shoots in the garden. Our models needed a lot of guidance so I stood with her, suggesting poses that would highlight the clothes and be flattering for their bodies.

  While the other girls waited, I shoved an array of women’s fashion magazines at them, suggesting they study. I knew my friends would be experts already, but there was always room for improvement.

  Bree was actually a natural. I insisted she keep her glasses on throughout the entire shoot because she looked cute in them. With so many girls wearing glasses these days, I wanted to make sure we represented them. And there was no-one better to do that than Bree.

  Next up was Hayley. She insisted she didn’t need any of my guidance and waved me away. After watching her for a few minutes, I was having doubts about that. I suggested a few things and she just huffed me away. Hopefully Sandy would do better than I did.

  Miss Curvy Number One, aka Jessica, was really shy to get started. She chose poses that covered her body more than flaunted it.

  “Jess, you need to put your hands on your hips,” I insisted. “Otherwise nobody is going to see your waist.”

  “But then my boobs stick out,” she groaned.

  “And they’re beautiful. Look how the dress loves all your curves. You look like a goddess in that dress.”

  She looked down at her body, clearly not seeing what I was. “I don’t know if I can do this after all. I’m sorry, Truly.”

  Hell no.

  “No, Jess, you’re not going anywhere. Sandy, can we please have a moment? Maybe take a five minute break?” I waited until the photographer left before turning back to Jess. “I know you normally wear baggy clothes at school, so you’re a bit uncomfortable in this, but this dress makes you look so amazing.”

  “You really think so?” she asked, still dubious.

  “I know so. We have a lot riding on this shoot and I wouldn’t let you continue if you didn’t look fabulous. My reputation is on the line here.” I smiled, hoping that would somehow convince her. “Don’t you want to represent all the curvy girls? Show them that they can look awesome too?”

  “I’m going to look fat compared to all the other girls.”

  “Who wants to be like all the other girls?” That stumped her. She shrugged and I k
new I was winning her over. “Please, Jess? I’ll show you the photos before we use them. If you don’t like them, I promise we won’t run them.”

  That did it. She instantly brightened up. “If you promise.”

  “You have my word.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  I held up my hand for a high five and she didn’t leave me hanging. We called Sandy back and the shoot started again.

  Jess was a lot more relaxed after our little chat. She even tried a few poses that I would not have expected from her. It must have been the clothes, bringing out the best in her.

  Sandy got through all the girls in a few hours. We even had time for some group shots. Trying to get that many girls to all smile and not blink at the same time was a bit of a miracle. But Sandy insisted she got some good shots.

  After we were done, the girls were taken back to Jane’s room so they could change into their regular clothes. I helped supervise, making sure no harm came to the precious clothes.

  “Can I keep this?” Kinsey asked, holding up the dress she just took off.

  Jane almost had a heart attack, her mouth hanging open, speechless. “Sorry, we need it,” I said.

  “But models always get to keep their clothes,” she huffed.

  Some of the other girls had stopped, intent on hearing the outcome of this awkward conversation. I mean, it was great they loved the clothes so much, but these were our only ones.

  “We really do need them,” I insisted. “We have a runway show coming up and the launch. Jane doesn’t have time to make more copies.” I could have added that Kinsey was welcome to purchase the dress when we launched, but I didn’t. Sometimes it was best I kept my mouth shut.

  Kinsey threw the dress on the sofa. “Didn’t like it anyway.”

  Breathe, Truly, let it go.

  By the time the girls left, I was exhausted. My siblings didn’t take that much effort to look after. Models, who needs them.

  We were left with an epic mess. I grabbed the nearest clothes and started to hang them. “Sorry about the mess,” I said.

  Jane was doing the same, fussing over the clothes like they were her children. “It’s okay. We needed photos and I think we’ve got some great ones. Everything else can be cleaned up.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble with your parents?”

  She shook her head. “They probably won’t be home until late. They won’t even notice.”

  “They don’t spend much time here, do they?” I asked. I had never met Jane’s parents, they were like ghosts. If I hadn’t seen the formal family portrait on the wall in the living room, I wouldn’t even know what they looked like.

  FYI – they looked a lot like Jane.

  “Not really,” Jane replied quietly. “They work hard so we can have this big house and stuff. They’re doing it for me too.” I bet that was a lie Jane told herself many times.

  My mom worked hard too but she always made sure to tuck us in at night. She was there for the big things, even if it meant we couldn’t pay the power bill for a month and our electricity got shut off. I couldn’t imagine what work they did that was so important they missed their awesome daughter growing up.

  I couldn’t say any of this to Jane, however. She was always sad enough anytime she spoke about her parents. So, instead, I reiterated her lie. “I’m sure they would prefer to be here than at work. It’s probably hard on them too.”

  She nodded and we continued to hang all our beautiful clothes.

  CHAPTER 6

  History class had to be the most pointless subject at school. I mean, it had all happened already, what was the point of remembering it? Did I need to know about some tea party in Boston? Surely it was more important to learn about how to throw a great tea party. Right?

  Right?

  And what about that time he droned on and on about some queen telling everyone to eat cake? All it did was make my stomach grumble and I craved cake for the rest of the day.

  FYI – I never got any cake.

  Like it always did when the teacher was boring, my mind wandered to more interesting things. Like what to name our fashion label. I tore off a sheet of paper and started writing suggestions:

  The Amazing T & J.

  Awesome Clothes R Us.

  Truly Jane Designs.

  Jane Truly Designs.

  When I was done, I scrunched up the paper and threw it at Jane’s desk. She jumped when it landed and her head shot around. I mimed opening it up and she finally caught on.

  I pretended not to be staring at her as she wrote on the paper. She scrunched it up again and looked around nervously. I waited for ages until she finally found the courage to throw it back.

  It landed on the floor.

  Mr. Young saw it.

  We were given detention for passing notes in class. He even confiscated the note. I mean, if you’re going to punish someone for passing notes, at least let them read the note. Seriously, it was only fair.

  History was our second last class of the day. I went to catch up with Jane after but she hurried off before I could, her face beet red.

  I went to Math class and tried to concentrate. I mean, really concentrate. I focused on the numbers, pretending they were our sales figures. It only marginally helped. My mind still wandered.

  When the final bell rang, I took my time getting to detention. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t wait for me. I swapped my books in my locker and moseyed on over.

  Jane was already there, of course. I took the desk beside her. At least we could have some time to work on the name issue for real. With an hour together, we could get all kinds of things sorted out.

  We waited until Mr. Palashay did the roll and disappeared to do ‘important teacher business’ – otherwise known as getting a coffee and chatting up Miss Belmont in the teachers’ lounge.

  The minute he was gone, the rest of the delinquents got to business talking, playing with their phones, and generally mucking around. Jane looked horrified.

  I turned my desk to face hers. “So what did you think of the names?”

  “We’re not allowed to talk in here,” she replied primly.

  “The teacher’s gone, he’s not coming back for an hour. Trust me.” She still looked terrified of getting caught. It suddenly struck me, Jane probably hadn’t been in detention before. “Is this your first time in here?”

  “Of course it is.” And that was all she needed to launch into one of her patented Jane speeches. “I can’t believe you got us into trouble. My perfect record is not perfect anymore. You have tarnished me. I’ll get a reputation.”

  I didn’t like to point out that she already had a reputation of being a snobby nerd. As a good friend, I let that go. “Come on, live a little. It’s only detention, they don’t even put that on your record.”

  “Yes, they do.”

  They did? Oh well, I guessed my record was far from perfect then. “Well, you can redeem yourself by working on our business. We need to name it.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. She was starting to develop herself a little attitude. Finally, she was learning something. “Fine. I didn’t like your suggestions.”

  “Okay, so what names do you have?”

  “They were all in the note.” Of course they were, they were probably all brilliant and perfect. Failing begging Mr. Young for its safe return, she was going to have to remember them.

  “Do you recall any of them?”

  Her eyes went skyward as she thought about it. “I had ‘Fashion Girls’, ‘Hip Clothing’, and ‘Cool threads’.”

  Okay, so apparently they weren’t brilliant and perfect. “They all suck.”

  “So did yours.”

  “We’re never going to name this label,” I concluded. Clothes we could do, names we could not.

  “We’ve got to or Hope can’t register the business. Maybe we should take a break and talk about the launch instead,” Jane suggested, reminding me why I liked her.

  We spent the rest of detention working out
the remaining details for our launch. By the end of the hour, we both had a to-do list a mile long. Fortunately, Jane’s was longer than mine, considering she had all the book smarts.

  By the time we were released from our punishment, most of the school had gone home. We walked together to our lockers, Jane offering to give me a ride home. Hopefully that meant she was over the whole perfect record thing.

  “Hey, you guys!” We both spun around at the same time to see Sandy hurrying down the corridor toward us. She was carrying her laptop. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  “We were just in det-”

  Jane cut me off with an elbow to my ribs. “We were just in the library, studying.” Yeah, like being in the library wasn’t more embarrassing than being in detention. “What do you have?”

  “I’ve got all your photos here. Like you said, I’ve touched up some things but I haven’t Photoshopped the girls in any way. Everything is natural,” Sandy explained. She held up her laptop as proof.

  The photograph I got a glimpse of was amazing. It looked so professional it could have been in the pages of Vogue. I was speechless.

  Jane, however, was not. “They look really great, Sandy. Thank you for this.”

  “No problem. I’ve burned them on a thumb drive for you so you can have them all.” She held up the little drive as proof, along with a notebook. “I have my homework here too.”

  Jane gave me a look that would probably have caused me to burst into flames if we were in a cartoon. She took the notebook while I took the thumb drive.

  “It’s due tomorrow,” Sandy said pointedly.

  After we thanked her, we made a beeline for the computer lab. We had to see the rest of the pictures, the first one was just a tease.

  The room was empty so we grabbed a computer and brought up all the pictures. As we flicked through them, it was like we were looking through an expensive catalogue. Our clothes looked perfect and the girls looked like they could have been any girl walking in the street.

  In other words, it was exactly what we were trying to achieve.