“I think I’m on to something,” I murmur. The words just come out of my mouth.
Jake’s head pops up from his book. “Really? So soon? What’d ya find, darlin’?” He puts down his book and pencil, eager to share notes. “Bring it home to daddy.”
“Well, um, nothing. That’s my clue.”
“Excuse me? Are you playing with me?”
“It’s about Ellie. She’s one of the few people in our class who hasn’t declared a major project, right? My gut tells me it’s because she doesn’t have one. No collection, no creative concept. So she’s leeching off others for ideas. Maybe she’s pulling another Stella on us.”
“Okay …” Jake says, twirling a pencil with his fingers. “So this explains what exactly? That she’s in cahoots with Stella to steal my work?”
“I’m not sure but it’s a possibility. Maybe Ellie and Stella are both copiers and are using us to get ahead? Ellie’s following me around to steal my ideas and Stella is asking Ellie to cover up for her own copying. She knows that we’re on to her, right? And maybe the two of them stole your stuff as a way to intimidate us?”
Jake stares at me as though I’ve just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. Or as though I’m totally losing it. I’m not sure which.
I reach for a gummy bear. The bag is almost empty. I gasp. Jake chuckles.
“You amaze me, Clem. I think this all makes sense. Good going. Now what?”
“It’s just a theory,” I whisper. I look around the room to make sure no one is eavesdropping.
“You’re pretty damn smart, you know that?” He winks. “I’m sure glad I have you on my team.”
“Thanks. I like to think I’m streetwise,” I shoot back.
“You sure are. New York is working its magic on you, Clem. But answer this question for me: why would Stella or Ellie steal my collection? Wouldn’t that be a stupid move on their part? Everyone knows it’s mine, even the Parsons faculty.”
“Unless they decided to throw it away to get rid of the competition,” I blurt out, but I immediately regret it.
Jake’s face drops and tears well up in his eyes as though I’ve just told him his sibling was thrown into the Hudson River. I should have kept my mouth shut with silver duct tape. What a mistake.
He stands up, throws on his jean jacket, and heads toward the exit in a huff.
“Oh yeah? I’m not going to sit around and LET THAT SHIT HAPPEN. We need to act now!” Jake shouts, making every head in the room turn as he walks out of the library. The librarian gives me a puzzled look and I give her a little wave, trying to avoid drawing further attention to myself. I grab my trench coat and follow him out the door under the confused gaze of dozens of Parsons students.
I couldn’t care less about the awkward stares. I’ve gotten used to them. I just hope we’re not too late.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
When former students said Parsons was competitive, I never thought it could get this bad. I read blog posts written by alumni who complained it was challenging and I even watched their rants on YouTube. But never in my worst nightmares did I imagine I’d be the victim of so much hate. It’s painful and makes me feel so vulnerable. I just wish this nightmare would end.
These are the thoughts going through my mind as Jake and I stand outside on Fifth Avenue waiting for Ellie. He’s holding a cup of coffee in one hand and chewing on a stir stick. My heart is pounding wildly at the thought of confronting her. I feel betrayed and let down. I hope she doesn’t try to pretend everything’s fine or deny her role in this ugly mess. That would be insulting, and frankly I can’t take any more. But apparently that’s what bullies do; one day they’re your friend, the next they become your enemy, and vice versa. The cycle is never-ending. But I’m about to put a stop to it.
Ellie’s afternoon class ends at five and it’s now ten to.
Jake takes a long sip of coffee and throws his cup into the trash. He stands next to me with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. I know he’s beyond pissed. He worked his ass off on his amazing collection and spent a big chunk of his scholarship money on quality fabrics, materials, accessories, and hiring someone to create a website. He put everything into making his dreams come true. Now there’s a chance all that effort was for nothing. He looks haggard and even the rhinestones on his jean jacket lack their usual sparkle.
I put my phone away and see Ellie walking toward us. She’s dressed in her typical dark attire: black jeans, a T-shirt, a silver jacket, matching earrings, and bulky military boots. She looks lost in her thoughts. Jake zeros in on her like a hawk. She must feel his gaze because she looks up and stops dead in her tracks when she sees us.
“Hey, Ellie, can we have a word?” Jake asks firmly.
“Um, sure. What about?” she responds, her voice cracking.
Jake rolls his eyes and sighs. “Oh please, stop your frickin’ nonsense.” He points his index finger at her metallic jacket. “I know you know what I’m talking about.” He moves in closer, inches from her face. She holds steady but I can tell that she’s intimidated. I can see that her right hand, the one holding her bag, is trembling. A sign of guilt? We’ll find out.
“Okay.” She stares down at her biker boots sheepishly. “We shouldn’t talk here. Can we go someplace quiet?”
“Well” — Jake looks around before answering — “we sure as hell ain’t going to the spa. What do you have in mind? The diner across the street?”
“No! That’s way too close to school.”
Jake and I exchange glances. The only quiet place we know around here is the Walker Hotel. “Okay, follow me. I know a place,” I say, nodding toward 13th Street.
We walk in silence while Jake follows behind, his head hanging low. I just hope this conversation leads somewhere. My friend’s morale depends on it. So does mine.
We enter the hotel lobby but this time I don’t care about the chic decor; I have other things on my mind. We take a seat and Jake orders some coffees.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Ellie says quietly. “That I’m a liar and a double crosser. But I didn’t sell you out, Clementine. Well, not intentionally, anyway.” She fiddles with her napkin.
“What? What do you mean, not intentionally?” I ask. I’m secretly recording this conversation with my iPhone. Who needs Stephanie when you’ve watched tons of Scandal episodes on your laptop?
“Stella’s has been on my back since the first day of school,” Ellie admits. “It’s just been a downward spiral of fucking misery.” She lets her head fall into her hands.
Jake nods silently, sipping his second cup of coffee of the afternoon. He sure doesn’t need it; he’s wound up like a top. I just hope he doesn’t get too excited. He tends to get out of control when he does. This could get really ugly.
“When you told me about your great-grandmother and Madame Grès, it gave me an idea for a school project. I starting thinking about creating my own version of those glamorous column dresses. I’ve been in love with them since I was a kid. I grew up watching old movies with Grace Kelly and Jean Shrimpton. I’m really into retro.”
This is a bit surprising. The classic Grès look is so different from Ellie’s personal style that I never would have guessed she liked it. This school is full of surprises and oddball characters.
“So, I got this idea — and I admit it was a lousy one — to look in the student archives to see if anyone else had done a modern reinterpretation of those classic dresses. To make a long story short, Stella and I came face to face in the student archive room.”
“No way! You caught her in there? That’s bonkers,” Jake pipes up. I can tell his cappuccino is kicking in now.
I’m not surprised. Stella does what she wants and gets away with everything. Until now, that is. “What was Stella doing there?” I ask, raising my voice slightly so the tiny microphone on my cell can catch it.
Ell
ie looks around the room before responding. “Trying to destroy the files on the Korean designer whose decal collection she copied. I managed to catch a photo of her doing it, but she bullied me into keeping my mouth shut by threatening to tell the dean I was in there, too. And I feel like such a shit for it. When I took you to the student archives to show you the empty folder, I had no idea Stella was following us. Now she has evidence of both of us being in there.”
“So, what the hell does she want from me? Why does she hate me so much?” I ask, totally beside myself. I feel anger boiling up inside but try to keep it together in case I need to share this taped conversation with anybody.
“She’s intimidated by you and your blog. I guess something you said or did made her feel insecure.”
“Really? I wonder what I said. She’s a hot mess. That’s all I can say.”
“Okay, ladies, and what about me? What happened to my collection?!” Jake asks impatiently.
Ellie looks away before responding. I can tell this is painful for her. She’s afraid to answer because she’s being bullied, too.
“Come on, Ellie, I NEED to know! Did she do it? Did she frickin’ steal my stuff?” he asks loudly, his face red and flustered.
She stares at her shoes and nods. “Yes, I heard her joking about it. But I don’t know what she did with it. I had nothing to do with it, I swear.”
“Ha! And why the hell should I believe YOU?” Jake responds, nearly knocking over our cups of coffee. I hope Ellie gives us what we need; I worry Jake may have a nervous breakdown.
“I know you have no reason to believe me. I was a complete jerk to both of you. I don’t deserve your trust but if you let me, I’ll show you I’m not lying. And I wasn’t involved in taking your collection, Jake, I promise. I know how much work goes into creating your own personal portfolio.”
“Oh, do you really? That’s rich, coming from someone who hasn’t even started working on anything yet,” Jake says.
Ellie grasps her cup nervously. “That’s not exactly true. If you’re willing to follow me, I’d like to show you something …” she says tentatively.
Jake looks at me for a second as if seeking validation. I nod and he asks the waiter to bring our bill. Ellie places a twenty on the table.
“Where are we going?” I ask, confused and a tad exasperated.
“A secret place created in honour of your great-grandmother.”
“Really?” Jakes says, looking as bewildered as I am.
This is getting more intriguing by the second. I turn off the recording function on my phone and stand up, feeling re-energized. Against my better judgment, I decide to follow Ellie. Again. This time, it had better not be a mistake.
We enter a five-storey walk-up on 12th Street near Avenue A and I get chills, like the ones I got when we were snooping through the school records. A gazillion questions run through my mind: where are we, what will we find, are we safe, and, more importantly, what the hell are we doing here?
Jake is behind me as we follow Ellie up the stairs. The stairs creak under our feet and the sound makes me nervous. We make it to the last floor, and I get knots in the pit of my stomach. What if it’s another trap and Stella is waiting for us up there?
Jake watches Ellie unlock the door. He isn’t letting her out of his sight, nor will he let her get away with anything, that’s for sure. This better be legit for her sake; Jake is under the influence of way too much high-end designer coffee.
It takes a few seconds for Ellie to unlock the door and I hold my breath as she pushes it wide open. My heart in my throat, I tiptoe on the old, creaky wooden floors. The loft space looks like an old garment factory and I imagine the sound of vintage sewing machines whirring in here decades ago, when manufacturing was much bigger in the city.
Ellie opens a second door and Jake and I gasp in unison. This time, I can’t believe my eyes. It feels like we just landed on a Paramount Pictures movie set. Layers and layers of dainty pink tulle float from the ceiling, which is covered in tiny silver and pink stars. There are strings of white lights hanging from the wood beams, reminding me of the amazing art installations created by Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama, Infinity Mirror Rooms. How did Ellie manage to create this?
Jake’s jaw nearly hits the floor when he looks in the centre of the room, where a half-dozen mannequins are dressed in exquisite silk jersey and chiffon dresses.
“What the HELL? THIS IS SICK!” Jake hollers, jumping from mannequin to mannequin like a frantic child let loose in a candy store. “Honey child, YOU made all of this yourself?”
“Yes,” Ellie responds shyly. She looks slightly embarrassed to admit it.
“Sweet mother of Jesus!” Jake mumbles under his breath. He’s under the same spell I am. Who knew Ellie had so much talent and such a soft, feminine side?
A light-blue pleated dress with tiny pearls at its neckline leaves me breathless. It reminds me of the spectacular couture dresses actresses wear on the red carpet. Next to it, a white column dress holds court, like the dresses Madame Grès created in her time. To my amazement, there are black and white photographs of Cécile’s face glued to the top of the mannequins. Where did Ellie find the photo? Then I recall seeing the photograph in that book about Grès at the library. Ellie’s idea takes my breath away. The concept is original and it touches me deeply.
On a different mannequin in the far corner is a pink silk chiffon minidress that looks as delicious as a meringue. I could definitely picture myself wearing it to one of Jonathan’s upcoming photography exhibits.
“Jeez, Ellie! Why have you been hiding these dresses? They’re spectacular! And where are we, anyway?” Jake asks, enthralled.
Ellie shrugs. “A cousin of mine is the building manager. He lets me use this place for free. It’s been unoccupied since the last tenant moved out.”
“This is the bomb. And so are you.” Jake walks over to Ellie and places a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I misjudged you, kiddo. You’re a genius and I am humbled.” He kneels down on one knee with a flourish. This makes her blush.
I stand in the far corner, staring down at my Adidas sneakers, fighting away tears. I’m not sure if they’re tears of joy or sadness. I’m still processing all of this. What I know is this: each in our own way, we’ve all been victims of Stella’s bullying and none of us deserve it. Together, we have far more talent than she’ll ever have. I recall Simon Cowell, celebrity judge on the reality show The X Factor, responding to a contestant who admitted to having been bullied as a teenager: “Do you know why sometimes people get bullied? Because they’re good. Because you’re good.” His words hit home. I discreetly delete my recording of our conversation at the Walker Hotel. I have all the proof I need that Ellie is one of us. Now, we just need to find a way to stick together and fight back.
“Jake is right, Ellie, you’re super talented. These dresses belong on the runway,” I say, walking toward them and still trying to wrap my mind around all this beauty. “And I love the old photograph of Cécile you found. That’s a very elegant touch. I’m sure she would have loved the way you displayed it.” I place my hand on her shoulder as a peace offering.
I can tell Ellie is overwhelmed by the compliments and attention. She stares at the floor and begins to sob quietly. “You’re the first people I’ve shown my work to. I had no idea what I was doing. I was just … experimenting …” she says, wiping away some tears.
“Experimenting? Are you kidding? Come on, you’re the real deal!” Jake tries to shake her out of it. It hits me that like many artists, including me, Ellie is filled with self-doubt. She clearly has no idea of her worth. That’s probably why she was easy prey for Stella. I recall Ellie mentioning something about having mother issues the first time we met. Maybe she never got the encouragement she needed to develop her artistic talents? Whatever it is, she needs to know how amazing she is.
“The designs are locally m
ade. What about the fabrics? Are they imported or locally sourced?” I ask.
“I buy them here in New York. I try to use organic natural fabrics from local textile mills when I can. There are a few exceptions.”
“If that’s the case, then I’d love to feature you and your work on my blog,” I say.
“Really? Even after what I did to you?” She looks surprised.
“It’s already forgotten, Ellie,” I say. “We need to stick together.”
“And YOU, my dear, need enter one of the school competitions,” Jake says. “There’s no doubt about it. It’s time to get out there and show the world what you can do.”
She wipes away her tears and stares back at us in confusion.
“Me?”
Jake grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her gently. “Yes, YOU!”
“You deserve to be in the competitions, not me,” she counters. “You’re doing something that can help people with disabilities. My stuff is just pretty.”
“So WHAT?” Jake places his hands on his hips. “First of all, my collection has gone missing, so it’s kind of a moot point right now. Second, beauty helps people, Ellie. It helps make life more bearable for people, including me. I’m in awe of your talent. If you don’t enter a competition, I’ll do it for you!”
“What about Stella? What do we do about her?”
“Pfft, who cares about that snake?” Jake says, his hands flailing in the air dramatically. “You need to STOP giving your power away to her.”
As if on cue, the school bully rears her ugly head again. A text from Maddie makes my blood curdle.
Just received anonymous message with picture of YOU looking through student records. Care to explain??? Not happy about this at ALL. Please call ASAP.
Uh-oh. Here we go again. Will this merry-go-round of drama ever stop? Stella must have known that sending the photo to Maddie would hurt me more than anything else she could do with it.
Bonjour Girl Page 18
