Who What Wear

by Olivia Bennett

  All three of them started talking at once. Only Emma and Marjorie remained silent. Marjorie’s head moved back and forth from speaker to speaker as if she were watching a particularly fast-paced tennis match.

  As she listened, Emma quickly caught on to the gist of what had happened. Holly had checked out the Allegra Biscotti website and realized that a lot of things on it looked oddly familiar. Some of the dresses. The style of sketching. And especially that shot of the inspiration wall. At first she hadn’t quite understood what she was seeing.

  But Holly was clever—more so than people actually gave her credit for. She’d figured out what had to be happening here, as crazy as it seemed. As soon as she did, she’d rushed over to Laceland to confront Emma. When she’d entered, Francesca had been covering the front desk while Marjorie was powdering her nose in the ladies’ room, and when Holly had introduced herself as Emma’s best friend, Francesca had assumed she knew the truth about Allegra.

  “By the time I realized my terrible mistake, it was too late!” Francesca cried, waving her hand so her oversized men’s watch jingled.

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” Holly told her. She rolled her eyes in Charlie’s direction. “Having Mr. Smooth rush out and start babbling to try to cover for you didn’t exactly help. Anyway, I’d already figured it out before I got here.”

  Emma could see the hurt and confusion radiating from Holly’s eyes. And no wonder. Why had she allowed Paige to bully her into keeping something so important from her best friend?

  But all that was over. Holly knew now. Paige could rant and complain all day, but she couldn’t change that.

  “Excuse us,” she said, grabbing Holly’s hand. “We need to talk. Privately.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Holly tried to yank her hand away, but Emma held on. She knew they had to hash this out here and now, or it really could mean the end of their friendship.

  “Come on,” she said, giving Holly a tug to pull her toward the hallway. “Please?”

  Holly hesitated, then shrugged and followed Emma into the studio.

  “Wow,” Holly said, glancing around. “You’ve really added a lot of stuff to this place since the last time I was here.”

  Emma didn’t bother to point out that Holly hadn’t been there for a really long time. This year, sitting around a lace warehouse watching Emma sew didn’t provide the same excitement as hanging out with Ivana and her clique.

  But that wasn’t the point either. At least not right now.

  “I’m really sorry, Holls,” Emma said. “I never meant to keep secrets from you.”

  “Then why did you?” Holly challenged, crossing her arms.

  “I’m not sure. It just sort of happened, and then things got out of control, and well...” Emma took a deep breath. “Look, maybe I should just tell you everything and how it happened and that might help you understand, okay?”

  “Whatever.” Holly leaned back against one of Emma’s work stools, waiting.

  “Okay. It all started the day Paige Young came to Laceland...”

  Emma continued the story from there, pouring out all those early details. Paige seeing some dresses in her studio and demanding to know who’d designed them. Emma making up the name “Allegra Biscotti” on the spot, as Charlie watched in amusement.

  “Then things started to get complicated,” Emma continued. “Paige featured the dresses—and Allegra Biscotti—on her blog,” she said. “It was really cool, and trust me, I was dying to tell you about it. But every time I tried, someone would interrupt. Mostly Ivana.”

  She gave Holly a sidelong glance. Holly had perched on one of the stools by now and had grabbed a scrap of fabric, which she was twisting between her fingers as she listened. She looked perplexed. “But Ivana’s not always around,” she protested.

  “It sure seems like it.” Emma tried not to sound bitter, but she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded. “Anyway, like I said, I tried to tell you a few times. But then before I could, Paige found out that Allegra was really fourteen-year-old me and totally freaked out. She made me swear not to tell anyone else.”

  “And a promise to some bossy fashion editor you just met is more important to you than me?” Holly asked with a frown.

  “No, of course not,” Emma said. “But I knew it was totally important to keep Allegra Biscotti’s true identity a secret, or else my fashion career would be finished before it had barely gotten started. And, well...” She hesitated, not quite sure how to say the next part since it was probably going to make Holly mad. But she was trying to be honest here, right? “Um, I wasn’t sure you’d, you know, be able to keep such a huge secret.”

  Holly looked hurt again. “Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed. “Since when can’t you trust me, Em?”

  “Since you started telling Ivana everything,” Emma said.

  “I do not!”

  “Really? You showed her my sketch of Jackson that time.” Emma’s cheeks still felt hot. During a shopping trip to Bloomingdale’s with Ivana and the Bees, she’d showed Holly some drawings she’d made of Jackson in her sketchbook. Holly had turned right around and told Ivana and the others about them.

  “You mean that time at Bloomie’s?” Holly said. “That was ages ago.”

  “I know. And I know you were trying to be nice, like telling them I was a good artist and stuff,” Emma said. “But I really didn’t want them to see it, and you didn’t even ask, and so I had to wonder...”

  “Oh, give it up, Em. I knew you were embarrassed about that, but I already told you I was sorry,” Holly said. “Anyway, I might have messed up there, you’re totally right. But in my defense, I had no idea those sketches were supposed to be some big secret. Plus, I’ve been keeping your other secret for like weeks now, and Ivana doesn’t even know.”

  Emma was still focused on that embarrassing moment at Bloomingdale’s. It took her a second to take in what Holly had just said.

  “Huh?” she said. “What other secret? You mean about me being Allegra?”

  “No, I’m talking about the other thing,” Emma replied.

  “What other thing?”

  “The locker-room thing.” Holly shrugged. “Ivana came over one day and seemed, like, really disappointed that Jen wasn’t home. Which is weird because Jen hardly ever even talks to Ivana when she’s over.”

  “Okay,” Emma agreed.

  “Anyway, when I asked Ivana what was up with that, she told me about catching you going into Rylan Sinclare’s gym locker,” Holly went on. “She seemed pretty sure you were up to something weird. She had all these crazy stalker ideas about you. It didn’t really sound like it to me, especially since I knew by then that you were Allegra Biscotti’s intern. Or whatever.”

  “Right,” Emma said.

  “Anyway, Ivana was really worked up about it. She made me promise to tell Jen all about it as soon as I saw her and to tell her to be sure to let Rylan know.”

  Emma bit her lip. With everything else that had been going on since then, she’d almost forgotten about the tennis-dress incident. So Ivana really had tried to put her evil plan into action!

  “I can’t believe she was really going to rat me out,” she muttered. “Typical.”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t breathe a word to Jen,” Holly assured her.

  “Thanks,” Emma said. “But what about Ivana? Wasn’t she mad?”

  “Oh, she totally thinks I told her.” Holly’s mouth twitched. “Like, every day after that she’d come in and be all, did Jen tell Rylan yet? Did she tell Rylan yet?”

  Emma almost smiled. Holly did a pretty good Ivana impression. “What do you say?”

  “I just kept playing innocent.” The tiniest of giggles escaped from Holly’s lips. “It took her like a week to get over it. I guess she thinks either Jen forgot to tell Rylan, or she did tell her and Rylan didn’t care.”

  “Wow,” Emma said, not quite sure how to feel. Talk about a close call! What would Rylan have done if she’d found out about Emma break
ing into her gym locker? Never mind Allegra Biscotti. Emma would have had to move to Timbuktu or Antarctica or somewhere just to avoid dying of embarrassment.

  “Yeah,” Holly said. “Ever since then, Ivana just sort of growls any time your name comes up.”

  Emma could imagine it perfectly. The whole situation was so ridiculous that she couldn’t help giggling, the laughter bubbling up out of her. Despite still looking kind of upset, Holly was smiling a little now, too.

  “What’s so funny?” she said.

  “Nothing,” Emma said. “Sorry. It’s just...I can so picture it. Ivana standing there looking all cool and perfect, with her face all twisted up like a wet cat while she wonders why the heck Rylan isn’t tearing my head off right that second.”

  Holly looked surprised, but then she shrugged. “Yeah,” she admitted. “That kind of sounds like Ivana. She usually gets what she wants, so whenever she doesn’t, she kind of goes a little nutso.” This time she was the one who laughed. Within seconds, both of them were laughing so hard they couldn’t stop.

  “Whew!” Holly said finally, leaning against a stool and clutching her stomach. “That felt good.”

  “Yeah. But listen, I still need to tell you the rest,” Emma said. “I want you to know everything. Like you should have from the start. But—”

  “But what?”

  “I hate to have to ask you this, Holls, but I have to,” Emma said. “You won’t tell anyone about Allegra Biscotti and me, will you?”

  “You can trust me,” Holly promised. “For real.”

  “So you won’t tell Ivana or Lexie or anyone?”

  “I said I wouldn’t. No one. Pinkie swear.” Holly held out her pinkie finger the way they used to make a promise when they were young.

  Emma linked her pinkie with Holly’s and smiled.

  “Okay,” Holly said. “I am kind of curious how you ended up getting hired to make Rylan’s Sweet Sixteen dress. And how you kept her from noticing that Allegra Biscotti is really some eighth-grader from her own school. I mean, I know important social goddesses like her don’t pay much attention to us little people, but still...”

  Emma grinned. “Yeah, that was kind of a tricky one,” she said. “You know the Italian girl out front? Well, she was interning at Paige’s office...” She was off and running, telling Holly the rest of the story.

  As she listened, Holly grabbed a tissue from the box on the corner of the worktable, dabbing at her eyes, which were damp from laughing until she cried. She stood to drop the used tissue in the wastebasket and stared wide-eyed at the inspiration wall.

  “Hey,” she said, interrupting Emma’s explanation about the pop-up shop collection. “What’s this?”

  Emma followed Holly’s gaze to the photo of the two of them in the park as little girls. “Remember that?” Emma said. “It was that day in the park. The one we were talking about that time at your place after we found your old dress.”

  “Wow.” Holly leaned over the desk for a closer look. “Look at how adorable we were back then! We’ve totally got matching lollipop stains all over our faces.”

  “I know.” Emma smiled at her, really glad that they were back to normal again. “I turned your old pink dress into one of the pieces for the pop-up shop, and I actually made a dress inspired by the lollipops, too. Even bought this gorgeous shimmering, swirly fabric that reminded me of the colors.”

  “Really? Which one is it?” Holly whirled around as Emma pulled the baby-doll dress off the rack with one hand and the redesigned pink velvet with her other hand. “I was going to give this one to you after the shop closed,” she told Holly, waving the pink velvet dress at her.

  “Those are awesome, Emma! Is that really for me?”

  Emma nodded. “I wish I could let you wear it now, but the pop-up shop is open all weekend for store buyers and magazine writers and I don’t know who else.”

  “No biggie,” Holly said. “It’s not like I have any parties to go to.”

  “Well,” Emma began with a sly smile. “You might. If you happen to be free this Saturday night, that is.”

  FINISHING TOUCHES

  A little to the left,” Emma mumbled through a mouthful of pins.

  “Like this?” Holly turned slightly to one side, holding her arms out away from the sides of the babydoll dress she wore. She was the perfect sample size, which meant she fit into all the outfits Emma had made for the shop. Being able to see exactly how the clothes moved on a real person helped Emma make some crucial adjustments.

  “Perfect.” Emma stuck a few more pins in the hem, then spit the rest into her palm and tossed them onto her work-table. “I have to sew it up and press it, and this one will be ready to go, too.”

  Charlie watched from his perch on a chair in the corner, his feet up on the edge of the worktable. “Yeah, and with a whole thirty seconds to spare,” he drawled.

  “Don’t exaggerate.” Holly shot him a chiding look as she slipped out of the dress. “Marjorie said the messenger from Madison won’t be here until four thirty, and it’s barely four fifteen!”

  It was Thursday afternoon. Even though Holly had known about Allegra for a whole three days now, Emma still couldn’t get over how good it felt to have both her best friends helping her in the final rush to finish everything for the pop-up collection.

  Emma flicked on the power switch to her sewing machine, slipped the hem in place, and pressed her foot down on the pedal. She expertly guided the fabric, sewing a straight line of almost invisible stitches. “Charlie,” she called over the whir of the motor. “I need the Allegra garment bags. Marjorie should be finished steaming the party dress, so you can pack that one up.”

  “You got it, boss.” Charlie stood and headed toward the rolling rack in the corner of the studio, where Emma had hung the canvas garment bags. Charlie had printed the Allegra Biscotti logo on them as a surprise for her when she’d created her first mini-collection.

  “What about me?” Holly asked.

  “Can you try to find me some more pink thread?”

  “No problem, Em.” Holly threw on an oversized button-down oxford shirt, rolled up the sleeves, and hurried over to the worktable to search through the box of sewing-machine thread. By the time Marjorie bustled back to the studio to say that the messenger was there, Emma, Holly, and Charlie had everything ready to go. Emma let out a sigh of relief and satisfaction as they all watched the guy disappear back into the elevator with a rolling rack full of Allegra Biscotti garment bags.

  “My first collection on its way into the fashion world,” Emma whispered.

  Then the elevator dinged again. Emma saw the dial moving slowly upward. “Uh-oh, did I forget something? It looks like he’s coming back.”

  The doors slid open, and Francesca sang out, “Ciao, amicos!”

  “The messenger’s not with you?” Emma asked nervously.

  “No. He stepped off when I stepped on. Your clothes are traveling to Madison!” She swung a tiny pastel-colored shopping bag. “I found the most wonderful little Italian bakery on my way here, and I’ve brought bocconotti for everyone for celebration.”

  “Awesome!” Holly rushed over to peer into the bag. “Ooh, little cream-puff thingies! Yum! You’re the best, Francesca. How’d you know I was seriously craving sugar right now?”

  Francesca giggled. “I am psycho, no?” she said.

  “Psychic!” Holly corrected with a laugh. “You’re psychic, you mean.”

  “Actually, I think she got it right the first time,” Charlie muttered.

  Emma hid a grin. She could tell it was driving Charlie nuts that Holly and Francesca had hit it off like long-lost tall, slim, fashionable sisters. In fact, Holly was fitting in at Laceland better than Emma ever would have guessed.

  “I’d better pack up Rylan’s dress,” Emma said. “I promised I would messenger it today, too.”

  “I just hope she’s not planning another laundry accident,” Holly said as she and Charlie followed Emma down the hall. “Having it
in her possession for a full forty-eight hours gives her plenty of time to concoct some horrible end for that poor dress.”

  Emma nodded. She’d told her friends about Rylan’s confession. “I know, right?” she said. “But I doubt she’d pull the same stunt twice. Her mother can’t be that clueless. Well, maybe she can, but that would leave Rylan with nothing to wear to the party.”

  “Yeah. She’d have to show up either in a dress she’s worn before or something off the rack.” They’d reached the studio by now, and Holly cast a dubious look at the drab dress. “I’m not sure either one of those would be a worse choice. No offense,” she added quickly with an apologetic glance at Emma. “I know you did what you could.”

  “No offense taken.” Emma examined the party dress. It looked even more pathetic now that the pop-up pieces were gone. At least they’d offered a distraction from its awkward plainness.

  “Don’t worry, Em. If anyone can pull it off, it’s Rylan,” Holly said. “By Monday, everyone in school will be wearing this exact same look.”

  “Ugh, I hope not.” Emma shuddered as she pictured Ivana and her hive prancing down the halls of Downtown Day wearing identical ugly pea-soup dresses. “With any luck, Rylan will ban cameras from the party, and nobody will ever have to know about it.”

  “Dream on,” Charlie said. “Ivana and Lexie will probably be peeking in the windows.” He grinned at Holly. “Tell us again how apoplectic they were when they heard we were invited and they’re not.”

  “Apo-what?” Holly wrinkled her nose. “Anyway, be nice, Charlie. Not everyone gets to be in Allegra Biscotti’s entourage. It’s not kind to make fun of the less fortunate.”

  Emma smiled weakly as Charlie laughed. She hadn’t quite gotten around to telling Holly that, according to Rylan, she was allowed to bring as many guests as she liked. She knew Holly hadn’t turned her back on Ivana and the others. And Emma definitely didn’t want Ivana at the party. Especially now that she and Holly were tight again.