by Chloe Taylor
Aunt Lulu put her arm across Zoey’s shoulders and ushered her out the door. “You continue to amaze me, Zo. If I were half as creative as you, I could turn my little interior design business into a multimedia empire, I bet.”
“And hire a whole staff to walk Draper?” asked Zoey.
“Exactly!” Aunt Lulu said.
By the time they picked up Priti and got to the fabric store, it was nearly six o’clock. But Zoey was happy to discover that the line to get books signed wasn’t a mile long after all.
“See,” said Aunt Lulu. “I told you. We’re absolutely fine.”
“Oh look! There she is!” said Priti, pointing to a woman at a table, set up in the middle of the store, piled high with books.
“Cecily Chen!” Zoey squealed under her breath. She would have known her anywhere. The signature glasses. The long black hair with a streak of pink.
“Come on!” She grabbed Priti’s hand, and they joined the line and waited impatiently for it to move.
“I’m so glad you told me about this,” said Priti.
“Thanks for coming,” Zoey said. “Too bad Kate had her soccer thing. And too bad Libby had her aunt here. You know, I’m pretty sure she actually has a Cecily Chen shirt.”
“Really?” asked Priti.
Zoey nodded. “Yeah, from the spring line, I think. I saw one just like it in Très Chic.”
Priti pulled in her chin, impressed.
“I know,” Zoey said. “It’s funny. Just when you think she’s not into fashion, she shows up in something really new and cool . . . Ooh!” She grabbed on to Priti’s sleeve. “We’re next! Go, go, go!”
They stepped up to the table, and Cecily Chen smiled up at them.
“Zoey!” Jan was sitting beside the designer, keeping track of the books that were sold. Her own long black hair was up in a loose, high bun.
The store owner turned to the designer. “Oh, Cecily, you have to meet my newest Stitch in Time wunderkind, Zoey Webber,” she declared. “Zoey, so glad that you could come and bring a friend!”
Cecily Chen held out her hand to shake Zoey’s. “Wow, that’s quite an introduction. It’s nice to meet you,” she told Zoey.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Chen!” Zoey gushed. “I’m a big, huge, ginormous fan! And I can’t wait to read your book! Your fall line is amazing, by the way. I watched the whole show online. I just love how you took the minimal thing you did in the spring and just kind of turned it inside out.”
“Thanks!” the designer said with a smile that was both pleased and a little surprised. “That was exactly what I was trying to do . . .” She leaned over, closer to Jan. “Wow, she gets a lot more than some fashion editors I know.”
“Oh, she knows her stuff,” said Jan. “And her sewing skills are coming right along. You better watch out. She’ll be your competition one day. Mark my words.”
Cecily Chen turned back to Zoey, adjusting her glasses as she did. “That’s pretty big praise, I must say. Don’t tell me you made that great outfit you’re wearing.” She grinned.
“Oh, she definitely made it!” said Priti before Zoey could reply. “She designs clothes and sews them all the time. You should check out her blog!” she added. Then she stuck out her hand. “Hi! I’m Priti, by the way. I don’t sew . . . but I’m a big fan!”
“You know, she’s right, Cecily!” Jan spoke up. “You should definitely check out the blog. It’s called Sew Zoey, and you’d just love it. Plus, she has nice things to say about A Stitch in Time.” She winked at Zoey, then she suddenly noticed the stalled line. “Oops! Better keep things moving! We’ve got a lot of books to sign!”
“Of course!” Cecily held up her pen and clicked it as Zoey and Priti gave her their books.
“Oh! Could you sign this, too? Please?” Zoey asked, pulling out her fabric swatch from her bag. She unfolded it and handed it to the designer, along with the Sharpie she’d brought.
“Well, this is a new one! I like it!” Cecily Chen said, enthusiastically signing her name.
Zoey and Priti moved away from the table a few moments later, with the autographed fabric and two signed books.
Priti eagerly read what the designer had written: “ ‘To Priti, a great friend—Thanks for being a great fan, too!’ So cool!” she exclaimed, turning to Zoey. “What does yours say?”
Zoey opened her book to the title page, where Cecily Chen’s bold, elegant handwriting swept across the bottom half. “ ‘To Zoey, my fellow designer, I hope you like this book! And I hope you’ll write one too one day—and sign it for me, of course!’ ”
“Did she really write that?” demanded Priti, peeking over Zoey’s shoulder. “Oh my gosh! She’s so nice! And she’s right! You should write a book! Don’t you think?”
Zoey rolled her eyes and smiled over her shoulder back at Priti. “Are you kidding? I can barely write a blog!”
- - - - Chapter 3 - - - -
All About Ikat
Attention! Run, do not walk, to your local bookstore and buy Cecily Chen’s book today! I got home last night and started reading and couldn’t put it down.
I still can’t believe I actually met her—and that she complimented my outfit too! Here’s a sketch of what I wore. Remember this bubble skirt I made out of T-shirt material? Well, check it out . . . . I thought I’d pair it with this ikat top I made the other day. (BTW, look out for some Cecily Chen ikat in the near future . . . and remember you heard it here first!) Plus my signature zigzag bangle and the cutest cowboy boots I (literally!) stumbled upon at the thrift store last week (hence the polka-dot bandage I’m wearing on my knee).
But now it’s Monday morning and time to get back to reality. Same old, same old, except for one thing . . . I’m wearing that football jersey dress to school today! I’ve already decided I’m going to tackle anyone who teases me about it. Just kidding! But that would be funny, wouldn’t it? Stay tuned, sports fans . . .
“Awesome dress.”
“Thanks.” Zoey looked up from her desk in social studies, smiling. She was starting to get used to people complimenting her clothes.
Huh?
Lorenzo Romy?
What Zoey totally wasn’t used to was getting compliments from him. In fact, she was pretty sure he hadn’t said ten words to her since their school play in fifth grade. She really didn’t know a lot about him, just that he hung out with all the jocks. And, well, looking at him, he did have kind of nice eyes . . . and a cute way of smiling with one side of his face. It was probably the eyes and the smile, she figured, that was suddenly making her feel kind of strange. Strange and slightly dumb—as in she couldn’t think of what to say.
“Big fan?” He kept grinning.
“Fan?” she repeated. She knew that was the wrong answer, but it was all she had right then.
“ESU. Go, Eagles.” He did a fist pump. “Too bad about last week’s game, huh? My parents both went there, and I’m definitely going. You too?”
“Oh . . .” Zoey got it now. Her dress. The colors. Of course. “My dad works there,” she explained, shrugging. “But I don’t really—”
“No way. That’s awesome,” he interrupted. “What does he do?”
“He’s a physical therapist . . . . He works with the athletes and—”
“Wow. Really? Cool!”
Zoey nodded. Kind of, she guessed. She’d never given it that much thought.
“So where’d you get it?” he asked.
“What?” She looked down. “My dress?”
“Yeah. Did you buy it on campus?”
“No . . . actually . . . I made it,” she said.
“You made it? Are you serious? Like, with a sewing machine?” he asked, impressed.
She knew she was smiling. She was afraid she was a little red, too.
“Wow, that’s awesome!” he went on. “You should make more and take them to games or something. You could probably sell a ton!”
Zoey was positive she was red now. But she didn’t even care. Selling h
er own clothes was her dream. She wondered if Lorenzo had any idea . . .
“Good morning, students.” Mr. Dunn, their social studies teacher, suddenly closed the classroom door with a solid thwam. “We have a lot to cover this morning, so please take your seats. Ah-hem. Mr. Romy-O. Yes, I’m talking to you. Sit down.”
Lorenzo shrugged, shifting his backpack, and turned to walk away. Zoey watched him . . . then opened her notebook . . . then cut her eyes to watch him again. Boys were not something she usually worried about very much. Not on purpose . . . That was just how it was. She’d always left crushes and flirting to girls in her class like Ivy Wallace, who seemed to live for that kind of stuff. But then again, boys had never shown her a lot of interest—or used the word “awesome” to her face. She couldn’t help wondering if it meant something. And was that why she was feeling this funny way? It was like someone (a.k.a. Lorenzo Romy) had flipped a switch and lit up a room inside her that had, until then, been dark. It was weird, but in a good way . . . and it made listening to Mr. Dunn very hard.
By lunch Zoey’s funny feeling had faded a little, but it hadn’t completely gone away. She wondered if her friends could tell there was something different about her when they met at their usual table to eat.
“Yuck.” Kate looked down at her tray and glumly picked up her spork. “Macaroni and cheese can be so good. Why does the school’s version have to be so bad? I wish I’d looked at the menu. I totally would have brought my lunch.”
Priti peeked into her brown bag. “I’ll trade you,” she offered. “My mom packed samosas . . . again.”
“Deal!” Kate instantly slid her tray over and seized Priti’s bag. “These are so good, Priti! Why don’t you want them?” She pulled one out, peeled off its foil wrapper, took a bite, and closed her eyes.
Priti shrugged. “What can I say? Even delicious things get old when you have them every day.” She took a bite of Kate’s mac and cheese. “Yeah, it’s not so great, is it? Hey, look!” She pointed to Zoey, holding some of the cheesy macaroni on her spork. “It matches Zoey’s dress. What are you having?” she asked, nodding to Zoey’s unopened bag.
“Hmm?” Zoey tore her eyes away from Lorenzo, who had just taken a seat across the cafeteria at a table full of guys. She’d been watching him ever since she noticed him striding up to the hot-lunch line.
Priti changed the question. “Zoey, what are you staring at?” she asked.
“What? Nothing,” Zoey said. She picked up her brown bag and pulled out a sandwich that she’d made herself that morning.
“Nutella and banana?” Kate asked.
Zoey grinned and nodded. “What else? Oh hey, Libby!” She waved to their new friend, who was getting there late, as usual, thanks to Mr. Dunn. Libby had the misfortune of having his class right before lunch. Not only did he like to keep talking after the bell rang, his room was about as far from the cafeteria as possible.
“Hey!” Libby sat down, slightly breathless, and shared a smile. “Cute dress!” she told Zoey.
“Thanks!” Zoey said.
Kate raised a samosa. “My idea! I’m Zoey’s muse today!”
“Oh, the football game!” said Libby. “Those are the ESU colors—I love it!” She patted the sleeve.
“Have you gotten a lot of comments?” asked Kate.
Zoey bit her lip. Her eyes darted back to Lorenzo’s table. “Well . . . I got an ‘awesome’ this morning,” she said.
“Oh yeah? From who?”
“Lo—” Zoey said—almost. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Lorenzo Romy. You guys know him . . . right?”
“Oh yeah.” Kate nodded. “He’s on the swim team. He’s a good backstroker. And a really good soccer player, too,” she said.
“Yeah . . . he seems nice,” said Zoey, trying to sound casual and as if she hadn’t been thinking about him all day. “Do you . . .”
“What?” said Priti, waiting.
“Do we what?” Kate wondered too.
Zoey bit her lip. Good question, she thought. I don’t know . . . .
Did they think he was cute? Did they think he might like her? What exactly did she want to know?
Nothing. She wanted to know nothing, she decided. And she knew she wanted to change the subject—fast.
“Ooh, nice bracelets,” she said, suddenly noticing pretty new ones dangling from Libby’s wrists.
They were very delicate—like Libby—and made out of different-colored silk cords. Pink, yellow, green, blue, orange, and bright cherry red. Each had a single long, thin gold bead and was bound with a neat sliding knot.
“Oh, thanks.” Libby smiled.
“Where’d you get them?” Zoey had to ask.
Libby shrugged and blushed a little. “My aunt gave them to me.”
Wow . . . Zoey couldn’t help glancing at Kate and Priti, who were clearly thinking the same thing. Who was this relative! There hadn’t been a single “That’s great! Where’d you get what you’re wearing, Libby?” question yet that hadn’t been answered that same way.
“The aunt who visited you this weekend?” Zoey asked.
Libby nodded. “Uh-huh. She doesn’t have her own kids, so she kind of spoils me. You know how that is.”
Zoey sure did. She thought about her own aunt Lulu, who was always doing things for her. She let Zoey hang out at her house in the summer and paid her way too much to walk her dog. And Zoey had Aunt Lulu to thank for most of her fabric and patterns, as well as for teaching her to sew.
Gifts of beautiful designer clothes and jewelry, though . . . ? Mmm, not so much.
“Where does she get it all? Do you know?” asked Zoey.
“Uh, work, pretty much,” Libby said.
Zoey’s eyes got big. Her work? Really? That’s how she got all this fabulous stuff? “What kind of amazing job does she have?” Zoey had to know.
Libby looked down at her tray. “She’s a buyer,” she explained.
“A buyer?” Kate’s nose wrinkled.
“For H. Cashin’s. The department store? She picks out stuff from designers for the store to sell.”
“No way!” Zoey exclaimed. H. Cashin’s? Really? That was a huge, world-famous store! She couldn’t believe that Libby hadn’t told them yet. Never said a word. If her aunt had been a buyer for H. Cashin’s, Zoey would have alerted the whole universe!
And what a great job! thought Zoey. Next to being a fashion designer, or maybe a stylist, it seemed like something she’d love to do.
“Does she like it?” she asked Libby eagerly. “I’d love to meet her . . . . Is she coming back soon?”
Libby suddenly got quiet. She scooped some mac and cheese onto her spork. “No. Probably not,” she said. “She’s really busy with work.”
“Too bad,” said Zoey. She was dying to ask some more questions, but she kept them to herself. She didn’t know why, but Libby didn’t seem to want to keep talking about her aunt . . . .
“Well, tell your aunt that anything she doesn’t think is right for you, she can send this way!” Priti declared.
Zoey saw a frown flick across Libby’s forehead. “Of course, she’s just kidding!” Zoey quickly said.
“I am?” Priti said, then she giggled. Zoey and Kate did too.
Libby seemed to try to laugh, but Zoey was pretty sure a mysterious frown was still there, somewhere, underneath.
- - - - Chapter 4 - - - -
Closet Safari Day!
Talk about happy surprises! My football jersey dress? Big, huge, surprisingly AWESOME success! So great that I was tempted to wear it again! (LOL! Just kidding, of course. I think you probably know me well enough by now to know that nothing but fashion armageddon could make me wear an outfit two times in a row. ) Not that I haven’t been sewing. It’s just I’ve been working on something else. I’m afraid I can’t tell you what, though. (It’s a top-secret surprise for a friend!)
So what am I wearing today? Nothing I made myself, actually. Today’s what I like to call Closet Safari Day. I started wi
th some paisley harem pants, à la the eighties, and which I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with. (Yes, the pants were my mom’s. And yes, they are a little big. But that’s never stopped me before, and it feels like going to school in pajamas!) I paired them with sandals, even though I’ll have to change them for gym. Oh! And I DID make part of this outfit. The scarf! Kind of. I had all these small silky scarves from who knows where—and I cut them into squares and sewed them together to make one superlong, crazy one. My aunt Lulu called it my “scarf of many colors” when she saw it. It’s pretty awesome, don’t you think? I wonder if anyone else will think it’s awesome today . . . ?
“Okay, let’s see ’em!”
Zoey grabbed Kate on Tuesday morning as soon as she got on the bus. Kate fell in the seat with a warm, wide smile. But it was also tightly shut.
“Kate,” Zoey groaned teasingly . . . until Kate finally opened up.
“Oh my gosh!” She gasped. Kate’s teeth!
Zoey had forgotten what Kate looked like, she realized, before she had a robot smile. No more braces didn’t just change the way her mouth looked, it changed the look of her whole face! She looked so . . . pretty. Not that Kate hadn’t before. But somehow it was different. Now she looked like someone people might stare at as she walked by.
Zoey watched Kate run her tongue back and forth over her top row of newly naked teeth.
“It feels so weird!” Kate told her.
“Like how?” Zoey asked.
Kate checked her teeth with her tongue again. “Like they’re fake or something. And they’re so slippery. It’s like they’re covered with wax. Ugh! I can’t stop feeling them! Do I look like a crazy person?” she asked.
Zoey laughed. “No, you look amazing!” And really, Kate totally did.
Zoey spun around and peered over the back of the seat at little Jacob Straub. He was staring intently at his phone and swiping his finger away at the screen.
“Jacob,” she said. “Jacob?”
“Hmm?” he answered without looking up.
