Who What Wear

by Olivia Bennett

  “Huh?” Charlie glanced up from the comic book he was reading. “Did you say something?”

  “I said this can’t be right.” Emma frowned, adjusting the muslin pieces and trying again. “It’s not hanging right at all.”

  After her conversation with Marjorie, she knew that what she desperately wanted was to make the dress she’d originally designed. To bring it to life. It would be a crime not to. She’d made a point of checking out Rylan’s outfit every day since she’d found out that she would be designing her Sweet Sixteen dress. And every day, Rylan wore something black. Black was her neutral. Emma couldn’t put Rylan in seafoam. But maybe there was a way to make Rylan happy without making her mother too, too mad.

  Maybe Emma could go back to her original design and be true to herself. Give Mrs. Sinclare her three-quarter-length sleeves and her scoop neck. But keep the sash that made the dress a true Allegra Biscotti. She could use the pretty iridescent turquoise that could maybe pass for seafoam for the sash. After all, she wasn’t going to be explaining herself to Mrs. Sinclare. That would be up to Francesca. Or Allegra calling in from Paris.

  Not wanting to waste any more time, she’d gone straight to cutting a muslin pattern. Now she wondered if she’d worked too fast.

  Charlie stood, stretched, and wandered closer. “Humor me here,” he said. “Pretend I’m just some guy who doesn’t know anything about, you know, sewing and fashion and stuff. What are you talking about?”

  Emma fiddled with the muslin on the dress form and scrunched her nose. “Can’t you see it doesn’t look right? It’s not just that Mrs. Sinclare ruined the design. This pattern doesn’t look like it’ll fit Rylan at all!”

  Charlie seemed underwhelmed by the news. “So what’s the big deal?” he said. “Francesca must’ve measured something wrong. That’s not so shocking, is it?”

  Emma bit her lip. “Maybe you’re right. I hope you’re right.”

  Stepping over to the worktable, she checked the measurements Francesca had written down during the meeting. They were just as she’d thought. Just as she’d carefully patterned.

  Charlie returned his attention to his comic book. Hurrying past him, Emma headed for the reception area.

  “Do you have a sec?” Emma asked Marjorie. “I need another set of eyes.”

  “Sure, honey.”

  Marjorie circled the dress form with a critical gaze. “Unless your school friend is shaped like Godzilla, something is definitely off in the numbers here,” she announced.

  Emma’s heart sank. She was hoping Marjorie would catch something she’d missed. Some fudged measurement or mismatched seam that would explain the weird shape of the muslin garment. When Marjorie left to return to her post, Emma stared at the dress form in total dismay.

  “Francesca must have measured wrong,” she said. “Or maybe written the numbers down wrong. Where is she?” She glanced over at Charlie.

  “Not sure. I sent her out on an errand.” Charlie shifted his gaze away from hers, looking vaguely guilty.

  “An errand? What kind of errand?”

  “I might have told her you were a huge fan of this one specific kind of European candy bar,” Charlie admitted. “And that the closest shop that has them is up in Midtown.” He smiled weakly.

  Emma gritted her teeth. “So now what am I supposed to do? These measurements are all wrong, and we’re supposed to have a fitting this Friday afternoon!”

  “Don’t panic. We can totally fix this,” Charlie said. “We’ll just find Rylan at school tomorrow and tell her Francesca messed up and we need to re-measure. She’ll totally believe it coming from Allegra’s loyal interns, right?”

  “Are you crazy?” Emma shook her head. “We can’t do that. It’s totally unprofessional.”

  Charlie pursed his lips. “You have a point,” he admitted. “Allegra’s rep definitely shouldn’t suffer just ’cause Francesca’s clueless. Okay, so we need another plan. I’ll put my genius mind to work on it.”

  “You do that,” Emma told him. “I’m texting Paige.”

  A minute later, the Allegra phone rang.

  “Just got your text,” Paige said, sounding distracted. Emma could hear her multitasking on her computer keyboard. “What’s this about measurements?”

  Emma told her. “I think Francesca made a mistake,” she finished. “But she’s not here right now, so I can’t ask her.”

  “Nonsense. Even Francesca couldn’t mess up something so basic,” Paige said. “Isn’t that kind of thing, like, lesson one in fashion school? You’d better double-check your measurements or whatever.”

  “I already did. Four times,” Emma said. “And there’s just no way the waist length is even close to right, plus, the shoulders are—”

  “Hold on,” Paige broke in. “I’m an editor, not a seamstress, okay? I’m all about the finished product, not so much the sewing stuff. That’s supposed to be your department.”

  Emma opened her mouth to protest but closed it without saying a word. “Okay,” she said instead. “I, um, guess I’ll go check again.”

  “Well?” Charlie said after she’d hung up. “What’d she say?”

  “Not much. She thinks I just need to work it out.”

  Charlie shook his head. “How are you supposed to do that?”

  “That’s where you come in, right? I think it’s time for one of your genius ideas.”

  StylePaige: Monday evening

  Faithful readers of this blog already know all about the hot-hot-hot pop-up shop coming soon to the streets of SoHo, courtesy of Madison magazine. But here’s the inside scoop from your fashion-first reporter. A little bird told me that Allegra Biscotti’s new designs for the collection are more super-scrumptious than ever. They’re sugar-and-spice and oh-so nice! Check it out for yourself, fellow fashionistas. Or check back here for all the glam deets—I’ll be blogging live from the socialista scene.

  “Hi, Holls,” Emma said tentatively when she reached her locker on Tuesday morning.

  Holly was bent over, digging a book out of her own locker. She straightened up and turned, managing to look at Emma without actually meeting her eye. “Hi,” she said in a whiff of cherry-scented chewing gum.

  Emma hesitated. Okay, at least Holly wasn’t giving her the silent treatment anymore. But this wasn’t much better.

  “Um...” she began, trying to find the words to apologize, to convince Holly to give her another chance.

  “Emma!” A girl with wildly curly blond hair and round, tortoise-shell glasses rushed toward her. Emma had a couple of classes with Abby Diehl, but as far as she could recall, they’d never spoken. “I just heard you’re interning for Allegra Biscotti! How cool is that?”

  Emma shot a desperate glance at Holly. But she was already halfway down the hall. Emma forced a smile. She sort-of remembered that Abby had a sister, or maybe it was a cousin, who was friendly with Rylan. Figured. “It’s no big deal,” she said. “It’s just an after-school job.”

  For the rest of the day, Emma switched between being the school’s biggest celebrity and the world’s worst friend. Holly continued to be polite but distant and sort of sad. Everyone else at Downtown Day couldn’t get enough of Emma now that the word had spread that she and Charlie were Allegra’s interns.

  Of course, Emma was quite sure that about 99 percent of the kids at school had never heard of Allegra before now. But Rylan was a trendsetter who debuted the newest and hottest and most must-know things in the world to all her followers. Which included almost everyone at Downtown Day.

  “Stupid gossipy school,” Emma muttered to Charlie just before lunchtime. “Will you come to the caf with me?”

  “No can do. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

  “Where?” Emma asked. Charlie often avoided the cafeteria, but she’d been hoping he’d make an exception today. Buddy system and all that.

  “Anywhere but there,” he said.

  “Wait!” Emma protested. But he was already gone.

  She slowly wal
ked down the stairs, momentarily fascinated by the symmetrical pattern made by the poles in the banister. She stopped and opened her sketchbook. Most of the students had already disappeared down to the basement cafeteria or into the student lounge by now, and the area was deserted.

  Well, almost deserted. She gulped as she spotted Jackson coming toward her. Suddenly she forgot about color-blocking pole stripes and everything else. As he came closer, looking cuter than ever in a hunter-green hoodie that made the subtle highlights in his brown hair shimmer, it was all she could do to remember to breathe and keep standing upright.

  “Hey,” he said when he reached her. “What’s up?”

  “Not much,” she said cautiously, closing her sketchbook.

  “What are you drawing?”

  “Just a pattern. Fashion stuff. What I usually draw.” She wondered if he’d ask to see, since he liked to draw, too. But he didn’t.

  He nodded. “Lexie told me about your internship thing,” he said.

  “Yeah?” What else had Lexie told him?

  “I never knew anyone our age who had a job like that.”

  Emma blushed. It sounded nice coming from him.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Thanks. I mean, it is kind of cool, I guess.”

  She could feel a flushed heat on her cheeks. He was smiling at her, and she smiled back.

  The moment was cut short by the clatter of someone coming down the steps. Emma glanced back and spotted a pair of feet in cute jeweled-toe flats. Then she looked up and saw that they were attached to Ivana.

  “Oh, hello,” Ivana said, stopping short and surveying the two of them with interest. “Jackson, aren’t you supposed to meet Lexie in the caf?”

  “Right. Um, see you guys later.” Without another glance at Emma, Jackson turned and raced down the stairs.

  Emma made a move to head in the same direction, but Ivana’s cool voice stopped her. “So,” Ivana said, her peach-glossed lips turning up in a slight smirk. “Keeping secrets isn’t nice, you know. Especially from your so-called best friend.”

  “Thanks for the advice.” Emma was careful to keep her voice steady, not wanting Ivana to know she was intimidated by her. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “You do that.” Ivana studied her face. “So how’d you land a gig like that, anyway?”

  “Oh, you know,” Emma said vaguely. “My dad works in the Garment District, and he knows a few people...”

  “Hmm. So how long have you been working for Allegra? I mean, nobody ever even heard of her until almost five minutes ago.” Ivana’s gaze wandered down to Emma’s jeans, gray cardigan, and silver sneakers. “I’m sort of surprised she found interns so fast.”

  Emma was fairly sure that wasn’t actually what Ivana was thinking. She was wondering how the girl she’d been completely ignoring for, oh, the past zillion years had ended up working with a new designer before Ivana herself had even heard of her. That had to sting, and Emma allowed herself a small quiver of satisfaction.

  “So what’s she like?” Ivana went on, her bored tone of voice trying to convey that she didn’t really care that much about the answer, though her sharp, probing eyes said otherwise. “Do you actually have anything to do with her, or are you mostly, like, answering the phone or whatever?”

  “Oh, no!” Emma said, feeling suddenly spirited. “I work very closely with Allegra on just about everything. She’s the best boss ever. Makes me really feel like a part of the creative process, you know? She really values my input. In fact, sometimes it almost seems like the two of us have the exact same, you know, style.”

  Okay, that had been kind of mean, but also fun. Charlie must be rubbing off on her.

  But she had to give it to Ivana—she stood as unwavering as a statue with that ever-present smirk plastered on her face.

  Emma’s smile faded as she spotted Holly heading toward the student lounge. “I’ve got to go,” Emma said, pushing past Ivana, darting around the corner, and breaking into a jog. She caught up to Holly right before she reached the lounge.

  “Hey,” Emma said breathlessly, putting out a hand to stop her. “Can I talk to you?”

  Holly turned toward her, stone-faced. “It’s a free country,” she said tonelessly.

  Emma took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.

  “Listen,” she said, “I really want to explain about the whole Allegra thing. I was dying to tell you about it—you know I always tell you everything. I totally didn’t mean to keep this from you.”

  Holly stared at her. Her blue eyes were guarded. Emma couldn’t tell if her apology was getting through or not. Before she could continue, she heard a buzz from her sweater pocket.

  She winced.

  “Aren’t you going to get that?” Holly said tonelessly as the muffled buzz came again.

  Emma fumbled in her pocket and glanced at the caller ID for the Allegra phone. Another phone number she didn’t recognize.

  Holly turned away and walked off toward the lounge.

  “Holly, wait!” she called.

  But Holly didn’t look back. In fact, she picked up speed.

  Emma was tempted to chase her down. Holly might have longer legs, but Emma had always been able to run faster than her, ever since they were little kids.

  The thought had barely crossed her mind when she shook her head, knowing it probably wouldn’t do any good. Not when she still didn’t know what to say to make this better. When she still couldn’t tell Holly the whole truth.

  The phone buzzed again. Angrily.

  “Hello?” Emma said, answering the phone, her eyes and attention on Holly retreating.

  “Hello? Is this, uh, Allegra Biscotti’s office?” a familiar female voice asked.

  “Yes, this is Emma,” Emma said. “Who’s this?”

  “Emma?” the person sounded surprised.

  “It’s Rylan. I wasn’t expecting you to answer. Aren’t you, like, in school right now?”

  Rylan? Rylan was calling Allegra?

  Emma desperately wished she had let the phone go to voice mail. She paused to consider how weird it must seem for her to be picking up Allegra’s phone at this time of the day.

  “You there?” Rylan asked.

  “Um, yeah,” she said, thinking fast. “Allegra forwarded her phone to me because, uh, she’s still in Europe.”

  “Okay.” Rylan sounded dubious. “So why isn’t Francesca answering?”

  “Oh.” Emma hadn’t thought about that. There were a lot of pieces to this Allegra puzzle that she hadn’t put together yet. “She—she had a dentist’s appointment.” She winced, belatedly realizing how stupid that sounded.

  But miraculously, Rylan bought it. “Oh, okay,” she said. “But I was really hoping to talk to Allegra, or at least Francesca.”

  “Maybe I can help?” Emma offered.

  There was a long pause, and Emma wondered if Rylan had hung up.

  “I don’t know how you could possibly help me,” Rylan said slowly. “I really need to talk to Allegra about my dress.”

  “Sorry. Like I said, she’s in Europe.”

  “Right, I got you the first time. Last I heard they had phones over there, or am I missing something?” Rylan’s voice was taking on a snippy tone. “So I need her to call me as soon as possible. Or she can email or text me. Whatever way.”

  “I’m afraid that probably won’t work out.” Emma wished Paige or Charlie was here to tell her what to say. “She’s traveling around a lot, and so—”

  “Look, I’ve never heard of anything so weird. If she can’t even be bothered to call back an important client, maybe she’s not the right designer for me after all,” Rylan snapped. “Tell her to call me, or I’ll tell my mother I changed my mind about the whole thing.”

  There was a click. She’d hung up.

  Emma’s mind was whirling. Her first reaction was to hope that Rylan would follow through on her threat to pull the project. Emma’s life would be a lot easier without that party dress.

  But then ag
ain, she’d already spent a huge chunk of the money Mrs. Sinclare was paying her. It wouldn’t be fair to stick her parents with the bill. Besides, she didn’t want to get Paige in trouble. It sounded as if Rylan’s dad was a pretty big deal at Madison’s parent company.

  She stared at the phone in her hand, realizing she now had two huge problems to solve.

  “Where have you been?” Emma said as Charlie rushed into her studio that afternoon, out of breath and pink cheeked from the cold December wind outside. “I thought you only had to stay after for half an hour to retake that quiz.”

  Charlie flopped onto a stool and slung his bag onto the filing cabinets. “Sorry. Got hung up talking to Mike Harlow and those guys afterward. But I got here as fast as I could. What’s the big emergency, anyway?”

  Emma filled him in on Rylan’s hysterics.

  “Easy.” Charlie shrugged off his worn, twilight-blue peacoat and reached out his hand. “Allegra phone, please.”

  Emma eyed him suspiciously.

  “Please.”

  Emma sighed and passed him the phone. He had that mischievous glint in his eye. Never a good sign.

  Charlie flipped open the phone and started typing. When he was finished, he showed her the text message.

  Ciao, Rylan! So sorry I was not there 2 meet u last week. But I am excited 2 make u the dress of ur dreams. Europe is the perfect inspiration for me, and I know u will be thrilled! Can’t wait 2 meet u f2f soon. Peace & fashion, Allegra Biscotti.

  “Peace and fashion?” Emma wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t seem like something Allegra would say.”

  “Well, what do you suggest? I didn’t think XOXO or TTYL seemed very professional,” Charlie said. “And I don’t know how to say anything in Italian except Ciao, and I already used that at the beginning. Besides, lots of famous people have signature sign-offs.”

  “I guess it’ll do.” Emma took a deep breath and then hit send. There. Maybe that would be enough to keep Rylan happy, at least for now.