Her phone buzzed again as she perched on one of the wooden stools by the table.
U r not gonna believe this! Holly texted.
First Charlie then Holly. What was up?
???? Emma texted back.
Got home & mom checking email & I peeked @ screen. Look @ link! Emma waited while the site uploaded onto her phone.
The Save the Earth home page appeared. Lots of blues and greens and logo of a spinning globe. The first paragraph was their mission statement, explaining why conservation was vitally important. Holly can’t really want me to read this, Emma thought. Then she spotted the box on the left side of the page. The heading: Goin’ Green Update! flashed in an animated font. Underneath were the words: New Designers Added. She scanned the list of names. C. Leveille—Emma had done the holiday pop-up shop with her. She worked with retro Southern floral fabrics designed in a very sleek, almost severe, way. Remini & Young—Emma had no idea who they were. Allegra Biscotti.
Allegra Biscotti.
Emma stared at the page.
Her hand shook slightly as she pressed Refresh. There must be something wrong with the page. Or her eyes.
The site appeared.
Allegra Biscotti was still on the list.
She was on the list!
She thought back to New Year’s Eve last week. Sure, she had wished for it, but really, it had been more of a self-motivating speech—an if-you-work-hard-this-will-happen deal. She’d never expected the fashion gods to perform so fast.
Is this a joke? Emma texted.
No.
Do not mess w/ me! R u sure?
Totally! Swear on Coco!
Emma bit her lip. Swearing on Coco Chanel was their secret way of saying they were being 100% honest. Coco Chanel was Emma’s fashion idol. Holly knew that you didn’t mess with Coco.
“I need a Hazmat suit to get through that cloud of toxic perfume!” Charlie exclaimed. He tossed his bulging school bag by one of the dress forms. “Marjorie really has to lay off the scents.”
“It’s not so bad.” Emma associated the smell of Marjorie’s Shalimar perfume with Laceland. “I need you to see something.”
“No, first I need to tell you something. I’ve been trying all day—”
“My thing is more important.” Emma held out her phone.
“You’re wrong there.” Charlie refused to walk over. He crossed his arms and leaned against the filing cabinets that acted as a wall.
“Mine shows that there’s…” She still wasn’t sure what. “A higher power.”
“Mine shows the power of Charlie.” He titled his head, as if cueing a drum roll. “I got Allegra Biscotti on the list.”
“What list?’
“Allegra Biscotti is now listed as one of the designers at the—”
“Goin’ Green benefit,” Emma finished. She pushed the screen directly under his nose. “Holy sent me the link.”
“Way to shred a surprise.” Charlie pouted, but he couldn’t hold back his lopsided grin.
“So let me get this right. You got Allegra to be a part of the benefit?”
“Of course.” Charlie continued to grin proudly. “Who’d you think it was?”
“The fashion gods,” she admitted sheepishly.
“I told you I deserve to be worshipped,” he joked. Or at least, she thought he was joking.
“What happened?” Emma asked.
“See it turns out—”
“Wait, I’m dialing Holly and putting her on speaker. She needs to hear, too.”
“My mom’s friend, Trevor Menand, who’s the set designer for the new touring company of Wicked, was over on Sunday,” Charlie began again. “I overheard him telling my mom that he’s doing the décor for the benefit. Em, you may be good at spotting trends, but I can sniff out opportunity, especially when it’s sitting right in front of me.”
“So you asked him and he said yes?”
“As if it were that easy! No, Trevor passed me onto some woman who I had to smooth talk like you can’t believe. But I did it! I got Allegra onto the list of featured designers.”
Emma wrapped her arms around Charlie. “You are the best! Absolutely the best! Totally amazing!”
“True, true.” He pulled away. “Just so you know, Allegra Biscotti is in the way back corner. A real minor spot.”
“Who cares? Allegra Biscotti is part of it all. She’s listed with C. Leveille and Glipin Faust and Sebastian Crile!”
“Not sure who those all are, but I’m guessing from your jumping they’re cool designers.” Charlie perched on the stool. “The deal is that all the money you take from orders that night goes directly to the Save the Earth Fund.”
“I’m good with that. I believe in what they do.” Emma’s mind was spinning. “I can show some of the dresses I used in the pop-up shop and maybe even the Tahitian Sunset collection I did for Madison.”
“Yeah, well…no. You have to show original clothes that fit in with their Goin’ Green theme,” Charlie explained
“I need to design and sew all new outfits?” Emma felt her heart beat quicken. “And this benefit’s on February seventh? That’s in less than five weeks!”
“You can do it, Em. You love a challenge,” Holly called through the phone’s speaker.
That was true. She’d had to work fast on all her other Allegra designs and they came out great. “Okay, and I can get Francesca to work the booth at the benefit, you know, be the representative for Allegra Biscotti. Everyone loves her Italian accent.”
“About that, there’s one more thing. A wee bit of info.” Charlie shrugged sheepishly. “Tiny, really.”
“How small?” Emma asked suspiciously.
“It’s all relative, isn’t it?” Charlie stalled.
Emma tapped the toe of her boots.
“The clothes need to be shown,” Charlie said quickly, as if saying it faster would ease the shock. “Each designer has to produce his or her own mini runway show.”
“What?” Emma shrieked.
“You know, a runway show. Where models wearing your clothes strut down a catwalk with music and visual effects.”
“I know what a runway show is.” Emma heard her voice squeak. “You expect me to mount a full original fashion show? Me?”
“Yeah. I promised you would. Or Allegra Biscotti would.”
Emma closed her eyes. What had Charlie gotten her into?
CHAPTER 3
REUSE, RECYCLE
“There’s no way. No way,” Emma shook her head. “I can’t do a professional fashion show. You’ve got to back out of it.”
“Absolutely not!” Charlie cried. “Em, do you realize what I had to do to get you in? Think about it. I’m some teen kid. Okay, I’m an extraordinary one, but still, it wasn’t easy, even for me.”
“And you think doing a fashion show is easy?” Emma’s voice still sounded unnaturally high.
“I never said that.” Charlie placed both palms on the table and locked eyes with her. “You said you wanted this. Really wanted this. I made it happen. And not on my own. I had to show them pictures of your designs, tell them about all your successes so far. You did all that. You can’t chicken out now that it’s hard.”
“You like a challenge,” Holly reminded her through the speaker.
“I’d like it better if it were easy,” Emma said.
“Pretending to be a sophisticated high-couture fashion designer who is at least ten years older than you and comes from Italy is never going to be easy. Face it.” Charlie had no problem giving it to her straight. “But it is fun, right?”
“Right,” Emma agreed. “But what if this is too much too soon?”
“Then you fail. Allegra Biscotti goes bust. She moves to a villa in the Alps and is never heard from again and in five years, Emma Rose emerges as a fresh, never-before-seen designer.” Charlie had it all figured out. “If you fail, it’s still a win-win.”
“I’m not going to fail.” Emma hated that word.
“I’ll help
,” Holly offered.
“Me, too. I can organize the whole thing,” Charlie said.
“We could pull this off,” she said hesitantly. Emma had never been to any of the high-profile Fashion Week shows, but she’d streamed them on her computer. She knew that, most of all, a fashion show hinged on the clothes coming down the runaway. That she could do. That’s what she wanted to do.
Charlie reached for a pen and a piece of scrap paper. “I’ll start a list. First up, Holls, can you find cool fashion shows on YouTube? I kind of need a visual, so I know what’s what.”
“You’ve never seen a fashion show?” Holly asked.
“Why would I?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, no,” Emma groaned.
“Keep the faith. This will be awesome,” Charlie promised.
“What about Paige?” Emma asked. Without Paige Young, there wouldn’t have been Allegra Biscotti. She was the editor at Madison who had discovered her. Paige had vowed to keep her dual identity a secret—and she’d promised to help guide and launch Emma’s career. So far she’d been true to her word.
“She’s all yours,” Charlie said. “Paige scares me.”
“Me, too.” Emma feared Paige would think she was committing fashion suicide. “I’ll fill her in later.”
Emma pulled out her sketchbook and her favorite soft pencil. She doodled a ski jumpsuit with a fur-trimmed hood. In two weeks, Allegra might be wearing this—forever exiled to the frigid Alps, Emma realized. This fashion show was like hurtling down an icy cliff on skis, but without having taken any lessons. She was way out of her league.
Then she imagined her dresses, her designs, her creations swirling around the lanky legs of models as they strutted down a runway in front of live people. The Allegra Biscotti collection in motion. That would be awesome.
I can do this, she decided. I’ll stun the audience with my clothes and none of the other stuff will matter. It will be all about the clothes.
* * *
Jackson waited by her locker the next morning. His hunter-green flannel shirt hung open over his gray tee and worn jeans. He looked so effortlessly cool, as if he didn’t care what anyone thought or said—totally unheard of at Downtown Day.
Emma hesitated, unsure how to make this right. He deserved to be angry with her. “I’m sorry,” she said, resting her binders on her hip.
“You didn’t show up, did you?”
Emma gnawed her chapped lip. “I meant to. I really did.”
“We won. I shot a three-pointer from outside the box to win the game.”
“That’s amazing.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot. How could she explain that she’d gotten so wrapped up in designing for the fashion show that she’d completely blanked out the basketball game? She hadn’t clued into it until she’d gotten undressed for bed and realized she’d meant to go home and change her clothes. “I got stuck at my dad’s office. He needed me to work late—”
“Next time.” Jackson shrugged. “If you want to, that is.”
“I do—”
“Em!” Charlie stepped between her and Jackson.
“Hey, man,” Jackson said, raising his eyebrows at Charlie’s intrusion.
“Oh, hey.” Charlie turned to Emma. “Will your dad let us hang out late at Laceland again tonight? I can spring for Chinese takeout. That pizza last night was nasty.”
Emma registered Jackson’s questioning look. “We’re working on a group project,” she fumbled. What else could she say?
“Sure thing.” Jackson’s eyes lost a bit of their warmth.
“So Chinese?” Charlie asked again.
Couldn’t Charlie leave it alone? Didn’t he see she wanted to talk to Jackson and needed him gone? Obviously not. Charlie stood his ground.
“Later,” Jackson said, clearly frustrated by Charlie. She watched him meet up with Lexie and Ivana halfway down the hall. Lexie let out a husky laugh at something he said. He playfully punched her lightly on the shoulder. She laughed again.
Emma cringed. Jackson never touched her. No playful punches or nudges. Last night could’ve been a big deal. They could’ve gone out somewhere afterward. A coffee place? Ice cream? He might’ve held her hand. Or even kissed her.
But, once again, her sketchbook had sucked her away from the world. Everything faded when she was designing. Even Jackson. She’d blown off his big game and hadn’t even texted an apology.
She was definitely bad at this boy stuff.
“Veggie dumplings? Good?” Charlie asked. “I can peek at what you’ve drawn, if you want.”
Emma couldn’t stay angry with Charlie. She was going make fashion history with his help, even if only they were the only ones who knew it. She’d be the youngest designer to put on a real fashion show.
“Chinese food is great,” she replied, as Jackson turned the corner with Lexie.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Charlie showed up in her studio with Holly. He brought square, white containers of dumplings and crispy tofu. “A feast,” he declared, jabbing the air with a chopstick.
“We’re ready to work. We’re going to huddle in this corner and watch fashion show videos,” Holly said. “We brought headphones. We won’t bother you, promise.”
Emma nodded, barely looking up. She furiously scavenged the back issues of Madison that she collected. She never threw one away, even scoring some vintage issues from the 90s at a used bookstore in the Village.
She needed inspiration. She needed an idea. A theme. A collection had to be cohesive. All the outfits could be different, but they all had to hinge on that one idea that knit them together. One story.
Using Post-Its, she flagged designs that caught her eye. A slouchy blue-and-white striped boat-neck top. Moss green gauchos with a wide sash. A long gypsy skirt trimmed with tiny gold coins. An embroidered silk tunic with fierce dragon details.
She sketched a moto jacket that sparkled with little coins.
She drew a high-necked gown with embroidered flames.
For two hours, she sketched and sketched.
“What’d you got?” Charlie asked, after he and Holly had overdosed on runway review and downed all the dumplings.
Emma flipped through her sketches. Each design wasn’t bad on its own, but none of her ideas fit together. “It’s a mish-mash,” she complained.
“The theme is Goin’ Green. Eco-friendly.” Charlie said. “Focus in on that.”
“You could make everything out of different shades of green fabric,” Holly suggested.
Emma tried to imagine a head-to-heel green palette. She did love green. Bright grass green, deep forest green—but there could be too much of a good thing. “Too Kermit,” she decided.
“Agreed.” Charlie said. “And maybe too literal.”
“Fabric, fabric…” Emma stood and walked to an old armoire she’d rescued from the curb one rainy afternoon. Her mom had helped her to strip it, and they’d repainted it a brilliant yellow. Inside, she kept all her extra bolts of fabric and the remnants of the fabrics she’d already used. She took stock of the few pieces she had left. Then she added up the money she’d gotten for the holiday gifts along with the gift certificate to the fabric store. “Big trouble. There’s no way I can buy enough fabric for a whole collection.”
“How many pieces do you need to make?” Holly asked.
“I’m thinking four. But some outfits should have more than one piece. You know, a jacket or a vest or something.” Emma tightened her ponytail. “That’s a whole lot of fabric.”
“What about your dad?” Holly asked.
“He’s paid for so much already. I’m sure he’d help if I asked, but I kind of want to do this on my own,” Emma said. “I doubt Michael Kors has his dad paying for his fabric.”
“Maybe he did at the beginning,” Holly pointed out.
“Maybe you don’t need fabric,” Charlie suggested. “Think outside the box. Goin’ Green means recycling, right? What if you used plastic water bottles or cardboard or even n
ewspapers?”
“Seriously?” Holly rolled her eyes. “This isn’t some arts and crafts project, Charlie. Go outside and show me one woman who is wearing newspapers or plastic bottles!”
“Wait.” Emma began to pace her small space. “Charlie’s idea isn’t so off. Just a bit half-baked.” She smiled at Charlie. “The recycling idea is actually good.”
“What’re you going to recycle?” Holly wrinkled her nose. “Nothing gross I hope.”
“Not exactly recycle,” Emma explained. “More like repurpose. Use again. Instead of using brand new material, I’ll use old material. I’ll take old clothes, deconstruct them, and make them new.”
“Can you get enough fabric that way? You know, big enough pieces to work with?” Holly asked. She had a better grasp of the sewing part than Charlie did.
Emma wasn’t so sure. “We could go to the thrift stores and look.”
“Look for what?” Charlie asked. “It’s not like you can take another designer’s dress and just chop off the hem or the sleeves.”
“Of course not.” Emma was liking this idea. “I would do a complete overhaul. It’ll be a totally new style from the old one. I’d reuse the fabric and the buttons and zippers or whatever I can find. I’d take apart the garment and rebuild it from scratch. The key is good-quality fabric.”
“I like it!” Holly’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s go shopping now. How about that thrift store on Lexington?”
Emma was always up for shopping. She moved to grab her bag.
“Halt,” Charlie called. “Reality check. How much money do you have?”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I’m trying to act as business manager here.” Charlie stood straighter, as if to justify his position. “Before you blow it all shopping, we’ve got to write down how much money there is then make a budget for everything we need. Besides fabric, the runway show will cost money.”
Emma sunk back onto the stool. “This is crazy. I can’t afford this.”
Bead-Dazzled Page 3
