by Chloe Taylor
Zoey was still clueless. “I mean, what’s the fuss about? It’s just a science exper—”
“Um, Zoey,” Priti butted in. “What are you talking about? We heard you’re going to be on Fashion Showdown Junior. We’re really excited for you, but—”
“But why didn’t you tell us?” Kate piped up, her cheeks getting flushed. “We’re usually not the last to know!”
“Hold on. I haven’t told anybody about that. I wanted you to be the f-first to know, I swear,” Zoey stuttered. “How do you know, anyway?”
Zoey knew there was no way her dad or Marcus or Ms. Austen would have told anyone the news.
“Sean?” Zoey turned to him. “Did you . . . ?”
He shook his head. “I only told my parents, I promise. I wouldn’t do that.”
Priti sighed. “Zoey, seriously? You told Sean and not us that you’re going to be on TV and travel all over the world? No offense, Sean.”
“None taken,” he said with a shrug. “But for the record, I only know about it because Zoey recommended me to be on the show. But my parents probably aren’t going to let me, so please don’t tell anyone, ’kay?”
Kate reached out and squeezed Sean’s arm. “Oh, Sean, I’m sorry! That’s awful. And here we are jumping down your throat!”
Zoey was baffled. Who snitched?
“It’s all over the news,” Priti explained, reading her mind. “I was watching at breakfast, and there was a whole segment about how you’re on the spin-off show!”
“And I heard it on the car radio on the way to school,” Libby chimed in. “My mom nearly had to pull over, she was so surprised.”
“And Priti texted me,” Kate said. “Why didn’t you tell us yourself? Are you getting too famous for us or something?”
Zoey sighed, overwhelmed by how not sharing her news had become more of a problem than sharing it. “I’m sorry, guys,” she said. “I really am. I’ve been dying to tell all of you, but I wanted to be sure it was actually happening first. My dad just finally agreed last night to let me do it! If I’d gotten us excited about it and then not been allowed to go, it would have been too disappointing.”
Libby quickly put her arms around Zoey and hugged her. “I knew it had to be something like that,” she said. “Sorry if we made it awkward.”
“It’s okay. I just don’t understand how it’s all over the news already when I just found out I could go!” Zoey knew that being slightly famous meant that sometimes when she was in the public eye there would be backlash from kids at school. But this time it felt like the whole world was talking about her behind her back.
Kate put an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. “C’mon, we’ve got first period together. I’ll walk you there, okay?”
Zoey looked at her gratefully. “Thanks, Kate.”
“Keep your head up, Zoey,” Sean said. “Remember, everyone is just jealous. Soon, you’ll be at Fashion Showdown Junior, and none of this will matter.”
Fashion Showdown Junior seemed possible, but in that moment, the rest was hard to believe.
It seemed like by second period, every single kid at Mapleton Prep knew Zoey was going to be on Fashion Showdown Junior and that she was leaving for Paris in just a few days. Some kids were nice and congratulated her while others just stared. Zoey wished the producers had warned her before the news went public. How much worse would it get when she came back from the trip and the show began airing? And what if she lost?
In the middle of her next class, everyone participating in the science fair went to the gym to set up their projects. Zoey was arranging her plants when there was an announcement.
“Zoey Webber,” someone said over the loudspeaker, “please come to the principal’s office. Zoey Webber, to the principal’s office.”
All eyes turned to Zoey. She made a mental note to ask Ms. Austen to never, ever call her to the office again.
Then Emily said loudly, “I guess TV stars have more important things to do. Explains that sad excuse for a science project.”
Feeling fragile, Zoey turned on her heel and was walking away when she heard another voice.
“Emily, we all know you’re the sad one,” Ivy said. “If you had an ounce of Zoey’s talent, you’d have better things to do than finding any excuse to pick on her.”
Emily was silent and just glared at Ivy, but the rest of the class cheered. The teacher finally noticed the hubbub and told everyone to settle down. Zoey mouthed Thank you to Ivy before heading quickly to Ms. Austen’s office. Not too long ago, Zoey remembered, Ivy was usually the one doing the teasing, and the idea of her coming to Zoey’s defense would have been like something out of the Twilight Zone. Luckily, Ivy had changed.
Zoey walked into the main office and was immediately ushered into the principal’s office. Ms. Austen looked cool and chic in a melon-colored sheath dress and nude pumps. Zoey was just about to sit down in a chair when she noticed her father was there as well.
“What? Dad!” Zoey exclaimed, startled. “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Webber pressed his lips together, looking grim. “Essie called me and told me the cat was out of the bag with you and the show. She said she’d heard students gossiping about it, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. I also want to yell at those producers for putting you in this position.”
Zoey had to admit she was relieved to see her dad. Part of her wanted to run straight into his arms and hide. But she also wondered if people would somehow catch on about her dad and Ms. Austen if they were seen together at school.
“You shouldn’t have come here, Dad. I don’t want anyone to know you guys are . . . you know,” Zoey said. “It’s bad enough that everyone is talking about me, without them talking about you too!”
Ms. Austen looked slightly embarrassed, but smoothed her dress and said quickly, “Zoey, your dad is here because he’s concerned about why the show publicized you being on the show without telling him first. Since you’re still a minor, he’s worried that it might have been illegal. He wants to call Rashida and thought it might be nice to include you on the call too.”
Zoey knew Ms. Austen was trying to say that Mr. Webber was making an attempt to treat Zoey like an adult. But her dad’s hard-and-fast rule was that Zoey was allowed to participate in fashion-related events only if she could maintain a normal life at school. Now she wondered if her dad would make her scale back on her fashion design work, since this was definitely not normal. Making her slow down with her fashion work would be worse than anything, even though one day of being the center of attention at middle school was enough to make ordinary life sound pretty great.
“Okay,” Zoey said, reeling in her thoughts. “Let’s call.”
Ms. Austen turned on her speakerphone and called Rashida. Her assistant, Damian, answered.
“Rashida Clarke’s office,” Damian began, monotone. “Who’s calling?”
Ms. Austen motioned to Zoey to speak.
“It’s Zoey. Zoey Webber,” Zoey said shyly.
“Hi, Zoey!” Damian replied cheerily. “We’re getting everything ready for you right now. Visas, hotels, limos—everything. You’re going to have the best time, sweetie. But Rashida’s in a meeting. Can I help you with something?”
“Thanks, Damian,” Zoey replied, feeling slightly guilty. Maybe things were awkward at the moment, she told herself, but it sounded like it would all be worth it.
“Damian, this is Mr. Webber,” Zoey’s dad spoke up. “Can we speak to Rashida, please? We’re having some, uh . . . trouble . . . at Zoey’s school because of all the publicity about Zoey being on the show, and frankly, I’m upset that no one ran it by me. At minimum, I would have expected a warning before Zoey’s name and picture were released to the public.”
Damian murmured an “mmm-hmm.” “I understand. I’m afraid the contract does state the show has the right to promote itself in any way it deems appropriate, using contestants’ names and likenesses, but it sounds like there was a misunderstanding. Let me call Ra
shida out of her meeting. We don’t want you or Zoey, our biggest star, to be unhappy! One moment, please.”
Damian put them on hold, and Zoey eyed her father. She could see the immediate effect the words “biggest star” had on him. It was like all the tension drained from his face and was replaced by beaming pride. It all felt surreal to her.
Ms. Austen noticed also. “Did you know you were the star contestant, Zoey?” she asked. “Pretty exciting!”
Suddenly, the stares from Zoey’s classmates seemed a lot less important.
Then Rashida’s voice came on. “Hello, Mr. Webber?” she said hesitantly. “Damian filled me in. We’re so sorry for the miscommunication.”
Mr. Webber cleared his throat. “Thanks, Rashida, but my concern is that I had barely told Zoey I’d decided to let her appear on the show,” Mr. Webber began, “and she woke up to a different world. She’s all over the news. How did it happen so fast?”
Rashida explained that the studio’s publicity department had a press release on standby, ready to send out as soon as Zoey’s participation in the show was confirmed. When Zoey’s dad had e-mailed his official approval, everyone got the green light to promote her on the show. She said that it was a standard form he also signed when Zoey was a judge on Fashion Showdown, but that no one realized quite how many news outlets would pick up the story this time around.
“Rashida, this is Essie Austen, Zoey’s school principal,” Ms. Austen said, introducing herself. “Since it seems this is standard operating practice, can you give us any guidance about how to handle the fallout?”
“Yes, of course. We work with child stars on some other shows, and the truth is, after the first little bit of commotion, things usually settle back down. Her classmates will get used to it.”
“That’s good to hear,” Ms. Austen said, breathing a sigh of relief.
Rashida went on. “I’m sorry if this caught you all a bit off guard. In the future I’ll be happy to keep you more in the loop when we have something coming out, so you can prepare for it. How’s that?”
“That would be great,” Mr. Webber said. “I want Zoey to be able to take advantage of opportunities like this, but not at the expense of her education and, well, her seminormal childhood.”
“Of course,” Rashida agreed quickly. “But I think I should tell you that you have a very talented daughter. We think this is just the beginning for her. You might want to look at this as practice for things to come.”
Zoey felt her heart skip a beat. She still sometimes felt like she’d just had a lot of good luck so far, and that any time now, her luck would dry up and she’d just be a regular kid who sewed as a hobby. But Rashida didn’t think so—Rashida, who produced the most successful fashion reality show on TV.
After they’d said their good-byes and hung up, Mr. Webber grabbed a tissue from Ms. Austen’s desk and patted his forehead, as if he’d been sweating.
“Are you . . . okay?” Zoey asked.
Mr. Webber nodded. “I just want to protect you, honey. I know this is just the beginning of you growing up, but I thought I had a few more years of you being my little girl before I had to send you out into the world.”
Zoey grinned. “You do, Dad! I’m still in middle school. And even though I’m excited for this big trip, I’m also worried I might get a little homesick, being so far away.”
Mr. Webber winked at her. “I won’t let my girl be homesick. You’ll get so many e-mails, texts, and video chats from me, you’ll be begging me to leave you alone!”
“I hope so,” Zoey said, and meant it.
CHAPTER 5
Totally Toga!
And now for the spilling of the beans! Finally, I can tell you all that I’m going to be a contestant on a special mini-season of my favorite show, Fashion Showdown! But I have a feeling you already knew that since it’s literally been all over the news. We start filming Fashion Showdown Junior this coming weekend in Paris, and then we head to Milan (that’s in Italy, cough, cough). Then we fly home so we don’t fail out of school, and two weeks later we head to Tokyo and Shanghai. But in each place, one contestant will be eliminated and will be out for the rest of the show. Then after four challenges in four cities, the six remaining finalists will get to compete in a real runway show in NYC!
I haven’t had much time to plan for this whirlwind world tour, but I have been thinking about the cities we’ll be visiting. I don’t know anything about modern Italian fashion, but I know that ancient Romans wore togas, which basically looked like white bedsheets beautifully draped around them. I’d like to make a toga in really bright colors, like magenta and purple, for a change, and add metallic accents with gold or silver thread, or beading. Metallics work with just about everything! (Right, P?)
I’ve also been thinking about how I’ll perform under pressure. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m kind of used to sewing complicated projects in zero time, like when I made my aunt’s wedding dress. But, come to think of it, that didn’t turn out as perfectly as I’d hoped (a seam ripped during the reception), and I was really stressed out the whole time.
I think I’m more nervous about all the long flights than anything: It’s my first time going abroad! Any travel tips?
As she entered school on Wednesday, Zoey was relieved to see that most kids seemed less interested in her than they’d been the day before. There were still some hushed whispers and pointed looks, but people appeared to have moved on to talking about other things, like tests and basketball games. Zoey strolled to her locker without feeling like she had to hurry past everyone to avoid the gossip. Her phone buzzed as she was getting her books, and she pulled it out of her pocket.
It was a text message from her friend Ezra.
Congratulations on Fashion Showdown Junior! I guess I have to keep up with you by reading your blog now, eh, big TV star?
Zoey cringed. She’d love to go one day without annoying someone for not sharing her news. She had just posted the news to her blog right before she left for school, so she guessed Ezra must read it pretty frequently to have seen it. She was flattered he read her blog, but she felt guilty she’d forgotten to tell him yesterday when the news had broken. Since Ezra was at a different school, they didn’t see each other every day, but still, she hadn’t even thought of texting him!
So sorry! she wrote back. It all happened so fast. I leave this Saturday. Can you believe it?
Immediately, a text bubble appeared, showing that he was replying.
Can we hang out before you go? Ice cream after school tomorrow?
She wrote back, Sure! Meet you there.
The bell rang, and Zoey tucked her phone into her backpack. With a smile on her face, she floated to class. She had an ice-cream date with Ezra, and her first trip to Europe was in just a few days. It was turning out to be a very good week.
In English class, Zoey often chatted with her friend Gabe Monaco, who was a novice photographer. He was supernice, and very talented, and always asked Zoey what she was working on. So she wasn’t surprised to see him perched on her desk when she walked into class, apparently waiting for her.
“Hi, Gabe!” she said. “What’s up?”
His eyebrows shot up. “With me? Nothing! But something’s always up with you, Zoey Webber. I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday since you weren’t in class: Congrats!”
Zoey felt her cheeks turn pink, and she quickly bit her lip to keep herself from breaking into a huge, beaming smile. She and Gabe had been friends for a long time, and a few months ago she’d started to think of him as a bit more than a friend, especially after he’d helped out at her Aunt Lulu’s wedding at the last minute and was the wedding photographer for the day. But a French student, Josie, who’d recently flown back home to France after months of living with her American relatives, was his girlfriend at the time. I like Ezra now, she reminded herself, and even though she wasn’t really clear on where they stood, there was no reason to act all weird around Gabe. But she still felt weird.<
br />
“So, Zoey,” Gabe began, and then chuckled at his pun. “Well, I was wondering if you’d let me do a photo essay about your experience on the show.”
Puzzled, Zoey asked, “Hmm . . . what do you mean exactly?”
Gabe leaned forward excitedly, eager to explain. “Well, most middle schoolers don’t star on a reality TV show. It’s a huge deal. And I thought I could get some photos of you—packing, at the airport, or whatever—to document the experience. You know, for the school newspaper.”
“Um, I don’t know,” Zoey said cautiously. Just the idea of Gabe putting photos of her, possibly looking scared and nervous, into the school newspaper made her wary. “What if . . . I mean, what if kids just think I’m full of myself for getting my picture taken or something?”
Gabe shook his head. “No, I’ll be really careful, Zoey. I won’t print any pictures that would make you uncomfortable or make it look like you’re, you know, stuck-up or anything. Because you’re not,” he added emphatically.
Zoey hesitated for another second. But then, remembering how much she trusted Gabe, and how he really came through for her aunt on her wedding day, Zoey agreed, with one condition.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ve got a deal! As long as you give me a few copies for my dad. He’d love that.”
Gabe grinned widely. “Of course! I can even make an album. So, I can come by your house and get some shots of you packing whenever you’re ready.”
Zoey felt her heart sink suddenly, realizing there might be another person hanging around Zoey’s house that she’d forgotten about: Ms. Austen. And she did not want Gabe to see the principal at the Webber house and guess what was going on! She made a mental note to tell her dad when Gabe was coming by to make sure that Ms. Austen wouldn’t be there.
“Right, my house,” she replied at last. “Sounds good.”
The bell rang, and Zoey plopped down in her seat. She wanted to put her head in her hands and groan. Things had never been more complicated!
