Heather yawned and stretched her arms. “I’m going to bed. And you should too. Be ready for breakfast by eight and we’ll be out of here by nine.”
“Out to where?” I asked.
Heather got up off the couch, shaking her head. “You’d think you’d have learned by now.” She started toward the door, turning back to grin at me. “’Night, Silver.”
I sat there staring after her. I couldn’t even imagine what she had planned for tomorrow, but I wasn’t going to be yawning my way through it.
I got up, walked to the guest room, and gathered my toothbrush and face wash. In the bathroom I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I stared into my reflection, trying to breathe and not worry about whatever Heather had planned for tomorrow. When I climbed into bed, my nerves melted slowly into excitement. After all, this was New York City.
6
STOP TALKING
I ROLLED OVER IN BED AS SUNLIGHT FILTERED through the venetian blinds. Wait. Venetian blinds? I blinked and sat up in bed, looking around at the room.
Ohhh. For a second I’d forgotten where I was.
I leaned back against the down pillow and took a breath. I was at Heather’s. I hadn’t slept over at many people’s houses before and it felt strange to wake up in an unfamiliar place.
I rolled over, staring at the clock. Seven fifteen. Heather had said breakfast was at eight and I so didn’t want to be late. I went through my suitcase, unsure what to choose since Heather hadn’t exactly been clear about what we were doing today.
I finally settled on dark-wash skinny jeans, a clover green shirt, and platform sandals. I carried my clothes to the bathroom and emerged twenty minutes later, washed, dressed, and ready for breakfast.
I walked down the hallway and, smiling, sidestepped a maid I hadn’t seen yesterday. Just how much help did the Foxes have?
“Good, you’re actually up,” Heather said, following me down the hall. She was dressed in black skinny jeans, sandals, and a red shirt. “I thought I’d have to send Helen in to drag you out of bed.”
I rolled my eyes. “How long have you been up, then? I’m just running into you in the hallway.”
Heather glared at me. “Whatever. Let’s eat and go already.”
I followed Heather to a small, sunny room at the back of the penthouse. It was a cute breakfast area with a round table that sat four people. Two placemats were laid out on the table with bowls and silverware. There was a giant bowl of cut-up mixed fruit in the center of the table.
“Told you it’d be the only meal we’d have with them,” Heather said. Her tone was light, but I could tell it bothered her. She acted as if she didn’t care that her parents were involved in her life only when it came to being Homecoming Princess or a champion rider. But she did care and it did affect her.
Helen walked into the room and smiled at us. “What can I get you girls for breakfast?” she asked.
“A Belgian waffle, please,” Heather said.
Helen nodded. “And, Sasha?” she asked. “I can make any type of waffle or pancake that you’d like. I can also make eggs or whatever else you normally eat for breakfast.”
“Blueberry pancakes would be great,” I said. “Thank you.”
Heather reached the spoon into the fruit bowl and scooped cantaloupe, grapes, pineapple, banana, and strawberries, among other fruits, and passed me the spoon. I filled my bowl with the fresh fruit and speared a piece of mango. Yum.
“So are you going to tell me what store we’re going to, or are you going to blindfold me till we get there?” I asked.
Heather ate two bites of fruit before looking at me. “A store that will fix that.”
“What?”
“That.” Heather waved her hand at me.
I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your outfit, Silver.”
“What’s wrong with this?” I looked down at myself. “I definitely want to go shopping and get some things for school, but there’s nothing wrong with my wardrobe.”
“Sasha, I’ve already explained this. Those clothes are acceptable for school, but you’re in NYC. With me.” Heather shuddered as if she felt a chill.
I sighed. “Whatever. At least my parents gave me shopping money for the trip, so I’ll be able to get a ton of stuff.”
“How much?” Heather asked. She scooped up the last bit of honeydew melon from her bowl.
“A hundred dollars,” I said proudly. “They never give me that much. I’ll probably, like, go crazy.”
Heather folded her arms across her chest, an amused smile on her face.
“Oh, Sasha Silver from Union,” she said. “A hundred won’t even buy a heel where we’re going.”
I blinked. “But—I—”
“Here you go, girls!” Helen said, walking into the room with our breakfast. She set down a plate of three steaming blueberry pancakes and put tiny containers of butter and syrup between Heather and me. She also served Heather her waffle.
“Thank you,” Heather and I said. Heather reached for the butter, and I couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Wait, wait,” I said. “That conversation soo wasn’t over. I have one hundred dollars”—I said those three words slowly—“to spend. That’s it. I mean, we couldn’t rack up a bill like that at Express or H & M that easily.”
Heather almost dropped her fork. She covered her eyes with her hands, breathed for a few seconds, then shook her head at me.
“It’s actually kind of cute that you think we’d go to Express or H & M,” she said.
“Forever 21?” I asked.
Heather stabbed a bite of her waffle. “Stop talking and eat so we can go.”
I shrugged and finished my beyond-amazing pancakes.
“Let’s grab our purses and get out of here,” Heather said.
We went to our rooms, got our purses, and headed for the front door.
“Heather?”
I jumped and we both turned to see Mrs. Fox staring at us. She had a leather day planner in one hand and a fountain pen in the other.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Fox continued.
Heather flashed a smile. “We’re going shopping. I thought I needed some new clothes when I go back to school, since I’m Homecoming Princess now.”
Her reason for shopping was a total lie. I watched Mrs. Fox’s face to see if she’d buy it.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Mrs. Fox said. “Make sure you don’t get anything in yellow. You know how that looks with your skin tone.”
“I know, Mom. I won’t,” Heather said, still maintaining the fake cheeriness. “See you later.”
Mrs. Fox just nodded and disappeared before we’d even put on our shoes. Mom and Dad would have wanted to know everywhere I was going—they’d never let me leave like that in Union, let alone New York City. But I didn’t say that to Heather.
We walked out the door and I felt like I could breathe better when we got out of the penthouse. The hallway was quiet and the building’s lobby had a few people entering and exiting. The doorman pulled open the door for Heather and me, and we stepped through, smiling our thanks.
At just after nine, the city air was chilly, and sunlight found its way around the tall buildings and filtered down to us.
“Which way’s the subway?” I asked, looking in both directions. I’d ridden the subway once with Paige over the summer. We’d told her parents we were using a car service, but I’d begged Paige to take me on the subway and she’d agreed. It had been so much fun. I stood still—frozen in the memory. We’d bought single-ride MetroCards and had ridden the F train to a stop close to Paige’s before using a car service.
I jolted out of my thoughts when I realized Heather was standing in front of me, staring at me.
“The subway?” she asked.
“Ooh,” I teased. “Sorry. Is the subway not a Park Ave thing to do?”
Heather glared, but I saw a hint of a smile. “The subway is never the thing to do,” she
said. “You’re so lucky I’m actually willing to teach you about how to really live in NYC. Otherwise . . .” She just shook her head.
“So we hail a taxi?” I said it with a straight face, knowing she’d use a car service.
Heather groaned and spun away from me. She punched numbers on her phone, and then slid it shut.
“We’re using the family’s car,” Heather said. “We will not be”—Heather took a breath—“riding the subway or sitting in the back of some disgusting taxi. I can’t believe you’d ever even think I’d do those things.”
I laughed to myself and pretend bowed to her. “I apologize, Miss Fox, for expecting you to do something, oh, I don’t know, normal.”
Heather started to say something back, but as she opened her mouth, the sleek car we’d ridden in yesterday appeared. The same driver got out and hurried to open the door to the backseat.
Heather got in first and I started to climb in after her, expecting her to move over.
“I. Do. Not. Slide,” Heather said. “Walk around.”
“Oookkaaay.” I held up my hands and walked to the car’s other back door. The driver was already waiting with the door open. “I’m Sasha,” I said. I figured I’d be seeing a lot of him this week, so he should at least know my name.
“And I’m Paul,” he said, tipping his hat to me.
I smiled and climbed into the car. Paul got into the driver’s seat and looked back to Heather.
“Where can I take you?” he asked.
“Let’s start with Barneys,” Heather said.
“To Madison Avenue it is,” Paul said. He turned back around and the car rolled forward smoothly.
Barneys. Wow. I didn’t want to say that out loud and look like a total loser to Heather. But wow! I’d never been to Barneys. That was a store that required serious glossing before entering.
I reached into my purse and dug around for a lip gloss. I put back two before finding the one I wanted—Kiss This Gloss in Smooch. It was shimmery with a tint of rosy pink. I applied the gloss—making sure it wasn’t smeary—and had just snapped my compact shut when Paul pulled the car to the curb.
“I’ll text you when we’re done,” Heather said, leaning forward. “Thanks, Paul.”
Paul nodded. “Have fun, ladies.”
Heather turned to me. “I’m going to open my door since it’s away from the street, and this time, you can get out after me.”
She got out of the car and I followed her, closing the door behind me. Paul pulled back into traffic, and Heather and I were alone on Madison Avenue. I glanced up at the green street sign, and the words “Madison Avenue” stared back at me. It made me smile—I loved New York.
“Silver!” Heather said. She grabbed my elbow and pulled me forward. “People are going to think you’re weird if you just stand there staring at a street sign.”
“Sorry,” I said. “But you’re used to this. I’m not. It’s still a big deal.”
The look on Heather’s lightly tanned face softened. “Yeah, fine. Okay. But it’s way better inside, so let’s go.”
“Okay.”
We walked down the sidewalk, weaving around people, and walked toward a red awning that said barneys new york. Under the awning, a giant window display showed three mannequins dressed like models from a Paris runway. I almost stopped walking, but there were so many people on the street, I didn’t want to get run over. We walked under a second awning, and the beyond-brilliant shade of red didn’t impress me any less the second time I saw it. This window display showed off crisp men’s suits that looked like clothes you’d see at the Oscars.
I followed Heather up to the one-story-high glass entrance, and we walked through the revolving door. I walked a few feet before I stopped. Someone clipped my shoulder.
“Sasha! God!” Heather said. “Act like you’ve been in a store before. You can’t stop in the middle of the doorway.”
But I barely heard Heather. Barneys was insane. And I was only five feet inside the door. I wasn’t a shopaholic, but this place could make me one, considering we were only on the first of what looked like many floors.
“C’mon,” Heather said. “This is where all of the tourists walk around in a daze—like you’re doing now. I know exactly where we need to go.”
Heather navigated the crowd with ease and I followed behind her. I noticed how everything about the way she moved screamed New Yorker. She didn’t sidestep anyone, but didn’t plow through the crowd either. She walked with purpose and knew exactly where she was going. I felt like a puppy tagging along behind her. I tried to copy her posture—head up, shoulders back—and the look I was sure was on her face: a cool disinterest in the people around her.
We walked past counters of makeup and skin products. I couldn’t even read all of the brands—I had to focus on Heather so I didn’t get lost in the crowd.
“Sample, miss?” a woman asked Heather. She spritzed a tab of paper with perfume and held it out to Heather.
Heather walked past without even stopping.
We passed the M.A.C. counter, where a woman was sitting in a chair, having blush brushed onto her cheeks by a makeup artist. Women were hovering over the makeup counters, pointing at shades of lipstick, types of moisturizer, and different tints of concealer.
Heather and I made it to the elevator and she pushed the up button.
“We’re starting with the second floor,” Heather said. “Sienna works that floor and she’ll give us special attention.”
“Like, she’ll help us find sizes?” I asked.
The elevator doors opened, and Heather and I squeezed inside the crowded elevator. Someone had already pushed the button for the second floor.
“Like, she’ll make sure dressing rooms are always empty for us and she’ll help us find the perfect clothes,” Heather said. “It’s actually always been really fun when I’ve done it.”
“That’s so cool,” I said. “We have our own personal shopper.”
The elevator doors opened, and Heather and I got off with a few people.
“All the clothes we need are on this floor,” Heather explained. “They’ve got all the best stuff. We need to walk back to the customer-service counter.”
“Lead the way,” I said.
Heather was excited about this—there was no denying that. She’d always dressed well at school—not like a fashionista but like someone who knew what she was doing. I wondered if that entire time it had been Mrs. Fox’s personal shopper choosing and sending the clothes.
“Sienna’s the coolest,” Heather said as we walked down the aisle. “She knows exactly what I like.”
“So . . .” I didn’t want to start a fight with her, but I had to ask. “Do you like clothes and shopping when you do it, instead of someone doing it for you?”
Heather rubbed her glossed lips together. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I like choosing styles and things that I like, instead of having clothes handed to me.”
We reached the counter and waited while the salesclerk helped someone in front of us. It sounded like a fantasy having someone pick out clothes for you and knowing they’d look good. But the more I listened to Heather, the more I realized that wasn’t true. I wondered if a sense of individuality was lost when someone else was making all of your choices. I didn’t study fashion magazines, but I liked clothes and had fun piecing things together.
The woman in front of us finished her conversation, and Heather and I moved up to the counter.
“Hi,” Heather said to the clerk. “Could you let Sienna know Heather Fox is here?”
The woman nodded. “Certainly. One moment, please.”
She picked up a phone and spoke quietly into it. She hung up and smiled at us. “Sienna will be right with you, Miss Fox. Please, may I take your purses until you’re finished shopping?”
“Sure,” Heather said. We handed our purses to the assistant and she disappeared into a back room.
“Is that safe?” I asked. “We just gave someone our purses. M
y new gloss is in there!” I blurted out the last sentence.
Heather looked at me, and for a second, I wondered if she was going to slap me. “Your lip gloss is safe, Silver. Trust me.”
“Heather!” We both turned as a petite blonde hurried over and hugged Heather.
“Sienna, hi!” Heather said, hugging her back.
Sienna smiled at me and stuck out her hand. “I’m Sienna, obviously.”
“I got that,” I said, grinning. “I’m Sasha.”
Sienna was dressed every bit the Barneys girl. Her spiky heels had to be at least four inches high. She wore a short skirt, ribbed black tights, and a simple white tank that was dressed up with a dozen layered necklaces. She looked amazing, but not like she was trying too hard in that annoying way.
Sienna looked at Heather with a sideways expression. “So . . . are you here for something in particular, or are you here to—”
“Cause damage to the AmEx!” Heather and Sienna said at the same time, then they laughed.
“You know my mom,” Heather said. “She gave me her black AmEx. She doesn’t care what I put on it as long as it’s ‘proper’ for school.”
“Oh, I know,” Sienna said. Her tone made me realize that she and Heather had some sort of understanding about Mrs. Fox and her need to dress Heather like a style snob.
“You’ll love this,” Heather said. “It’s going to make your job so much easier.”
Sienna raised an eyebrow. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
Heather gave a fake giant grin. “Guess who won Homecoming Princess?”
Sienna slapped her hand against the counter. “Omigod! No way.” She put her hand over her heart in a mocking way. “Your dream come true.”
Faking seriousness, Heather nodded. “Exactly. So of course my mom’s going to expect even more ‘princess-worthy’ clothes.”
Sienna put a hand to her chin. “We’ll do that.”
Heather’s smile slipped.
City Secrets Page 4
