Who What Wear

by Olivia Bennett

  “Up the stairs and down the hall to the ballroom,” the man said, pointing. “You can check your coats up there.”

  Soon Emma and her friends were peeling off their coats and scarves and handing them to a checker stationed in the carpeted hallway outside the ballroom. Emma had spent the day redesigning one of her childhood dresses—a tiny flowered-print smock dress—into a mini smock dress and cutting up an old chambray blue shirt of her Dad’s to add the panels just as she’d done for Holly’s dress. She looked over at Charlie, who was dapper in jeans, a black sports jacket, and a daringly bright plum-colored dress shirt.

  Emma let out a low gasp when they stepped into the party space. An enormous room was awash in ecru and seafoam fabric, decorations, and tiny lights. Intricate centerpieces made of huge, puffy white flowers intertwined with what seemed to be artichokes and cauliflower. To top it off, more than two dozen large, round tables were covered in the pale pea-green linens.

  “This must have cost a fortune,” Emma said.

  “But it’s so strange,” Holly whispered.

  “And ugly,” Charlie added.

  A dance floor with several platforms covered the far side of the room. The DJ tested a bunch of flashing strobe lights. A solitary white light illuminated a life-sized ice sculpture in the center of the room.

  “Is that supposed to be Rylan lounging on top of the number sixteen?” Holly asked, peering at it.

  “I think so.” Emma took in the haughty tilt of the sculpture’s narrow chin. Ice queen, indeed! “Do you think that was her idea or her mother’s?”

  Charlie snorted with laughter. “I bet they both agreed on that one,” he said. “The whole ice sculpture thing is just tacky enough for Mama Sinclare, but the ego trip of seeing herself immortalized in ice is right up Rylan’s alley.”

  “I don’t know if immortalized is the right word,” Emma pointed out. “I mean, how long does an ice sculpture last, anyway?”

  Holly wriggled her shoulders to the beat as the DJ tested his equipment, adjusting the levels as a lively dance song blasted out of enormous speakers.

  “Okay, we might be the youngest people here and all, but this could actually be fun,” she said, casting an eager glance at the dance floor, which was currently empty except for a penguin-suited waiter hurrying across it shouldering a tray of canapés and a few wandering high-school friends of Rylan’s who’d also scored early admission. It was too dim for Emma to identify any of them for sure.

  “It’s not time to party yet. We need to find Rylan,” Emma reminded her friends. “She said she’d be in her dressing room. Where do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know. But there’s your sister, Holly.” Charlie pointed to one of the wandering high-schoolers. “Let’s ask her.”

  Holly smirked. “Yes, let’s. Jen’s annoyed that I’m even invited to this thing. I’d love to let her know I’m actually here!”

  Jen barely looked in Holly’s direction when she pointed to a doorway on the far side of the room.

  “Rylan’s in there,” she said. “But enter at your own risk. She’s super-cranky.”

  “Uh-oh,” Emma muttered to her friends as they left Jen and hurried toward the dressing room. They knocked on the door and let themselves in. Charlie hung back until the girls declared everyone was decent.

  The dressing room wasn’t much larger than a closet. It had a full-length mirror on one wall with a small folding table and chair in front of it. As Emma entered, Rylan was taking a sip from a tall plastic cup of soda. Val and another girl huddled nearby. They looked kind of nervous.

  “Um, hi?” Emma said uncertainly.

  Rylan glanced back. “Well?” she demanded, waving a hand at the plain, subtly ruffled dress. “Any ideas to make this look better?”

  Emma’s heart twisted. The dress looked...just boring. Rylan’s shoulders seemed too narrow because of the scoop neck, and she had no real waist because that’s what the sash would have done for her.

  But it was when she looked at Rylan’s unhappy face that Emma felt the worst. How could I have done this to her? Emma couldn’t stand it. I have to figure out a way to help her.

  But it was too late. Way too late.

  Wasn’t it?

  Suddenly Marjorie’s voice floated into her mind: All you can do is be true to yourself, trust your instincts, and let the rest fall into place.

  Emma hadn’t really understood what Marjorie meant at the time. But now, instantly, she was pretty sure she did. And she realized it meant she couldn’t go through with this. This just wasn’t the dress Rylan should be wearing on a night like this, and Emma—Allegra— couldn’t stand by and let bad fashion happen.

  And just like that, she knew what to do.

  The plan popped into her head almost fully formed. It was wild and crazy, but then again, so was Charlie’s wacky plan to sneak into the gym locker, and that one had worked out pretty well. Maybe this one would, too, if she had the guts to pull it off.

  Not giving herself a chance to overthink it, she made her move. Darting past Rylan, she grabbed the tall plastic cup sitting on the makeup table. Then she turned—and threw the soda all over the front of Rylan’s dress!

  THE LITTLE HACK DRESS

  Are you insane? What’d you do that for?” Rylan shrieked, frantically brushing the splotch of soda. But it was no use. The dress was soaked in sticky brown liquid. “It’s bad enough I have to wear this hideous dress—did you really just make it even worse?”

  Holly and Charlie stood motionless, wide-eyed, both of them frozen in shock. At that moment, the dressing-room door flew open and Francesca hurried in.

  “Ciao, bellas!” she sang out cheerfully. Then she spotted the soda-stained dress, and her eyes widened. “Diavolo!” she exclaimed. “What has happened here?”

  “Your little intern friend just ruined my life,” Rylan snarled, pointing at Emma. “Even more than your boss already ruined it, that is! And it’s too late even to send someone up to my apartment for something else to wear. I’m supposed to make my grand entrance in like twenty minutes!”

  Francesca clucked and rushed to her. “Let me see if I might help,” she said, grabbing a cotton ball off the table and dabbing at the stain.

  “Don’t! There’s nail polish on that! Oh my gosh, you’re just making it worse!” one of Rylan’s friends exclaimed.

  “Cribbio!” Francesca cried in dismay.

  Emma took a deep breath...then smiled. “Relax, everyone,” she said. “It’s all under control. Trust me, okay?”

  Rylan didn’t seem to hear. She was cursing at Francesca, telling her to get out of her way as she searched the makeup table for something that might help.

  Emma pointed at Charlie. “Do me a favor,” she said. “Run outside and hail a cab. Keep it there until I join you, okay?”

  Charlie only hesitated for a split second. “You got it.” He took off through the door.

  Emma smiled. She’d been sure she could count on him to go with it. Charlie was like that.

  Emma hesitated. Should she just give Rylan her dress to wear? It was pretty cute.

  But no. This night was supposed to be perfect for Rylan, and Emma’s quickly constructed dress wasn’t right for her either. Sure, it would be better than the soda-stained monstrosity Rylan had on right now, but not perfect. Also, Emma was a lot shorter than Rylan. Luckily, though, Emma knew where she could find the perfect dress.

  “I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes,” she told Rylan. “I promise.”

  But Rylan didn’t even look up. She stared at her reflection, seeming to be in shock.

  “Don’t let her leave this room, okay?” Emma told Holly.

  “Wait! What’s going on?” Holly demanded.

  “There’s no time to explain, but I’m going to fix this.”

  “But how—”

  “Just go along with this. Please.”

  Holly stared at her, doubt in her eyes. Emma held her gaze, hoping she’d earned back enough of Holly’s trus
t.

  “Go,” Holly told her and smiled.

  “Thanks, Holls.” Emma dashed out of the room.

  She didn’t bother to stop for her coat—there was no time. She dashed through the cold air and dove into the cab Charlie had waiting at the curb. “Where to?” the cabby asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

  “SoHo,” she said breathlessly, giving the address of the pop-up shop. The cabby nodded and swung out in front of a delivery truck, eliciting a loud horn blast. Charlie shot Emma a curious look from the seat beside her.

  “What do you have in mind, exactly?” he asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  He smiled. “Interesting. Always nice to toss a high-fructose beverage at the party girl. Makes for a memorable event. Something to tell the grandkids about. But, hey, I’ll play along, as long as you promise not to soak me next.”

  Lower Manhattan traffic was a nightmare as usual, but the cabby was a kamikaze. While Emma didn’t dare to look out the window for most of the ride, she was relieved when they made it to the pop-up shop in one piece. The place was lit up, but most of the press people had left at this hour of the evening.

  “Wait here,” Emma told Charlie and the cab driver. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

  She raced inside. Paige stood near the center of the room, watching the last few stragglers. She looked exhausted—and startled to see Emma running toward her.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the Sweet Sixteen party.”

  “There’s no time to explain,” Emma said breathlessly. “But I need Rylan’s dress. The real one.”

  “What? Hold on a second, Emma,” Paige began.

  But Emma was already rushing over to the sapphire and black dress she’d originally planned to make for Rylan. One or two people gave her strange looks, but nobody interfered as she quickly but carefully unzipped the dress and slid it off the mannequin.

  “You cannot take that.” Paige’s voice was a full octave higher. Emma could tell she was struggling not to shriek in front of the remaining fashion writers.

  “I need it. Seriously. I promise I’ll get it back here first thing in the morning.”

  “Where are you taking—”

  “Thanks!” she called to Paige, slinging the dress over her arm and sprinting for the exit. “I’ll text you later and explain.”

  The ballroom was packed with fashionably dressed adults nibbling passed hors d’oeuvres when Emma got back. Most of Rylan’s friends were crammed in the corner by the DJ. Loud music with a heavy bass line filled the room, and some kids were already dancing. Others were sampling the food or shouting for the birthday girl. Emma noticed Mrs. Sinclare, in a dull oyster-colored dress, standing at one end of the room beside a distinguished-looking man in a suit and coordinating seafoam-green tie.

  Charlie spotted them, too. “That must be Daddy Rylan,” he panted into Emma’s ear. “Guess he’s back from his business trip.”

  “Yeah.” Emma gulped. Somehow she’d managed to forget that Rylan’s parents would be here. It was definitely too late to worry about that now. Keeping her head down, she dashed across the dance floor, dodging flailing arms and tossing heads.

  “Okay, everybody!” the DJ yelled into the microphone. “It’s time to get this party started!”

  The crowd let out a roar of approval. “Ry-lan! Ry-lan!” a few kids chanted.

  Emma sprinted to the dressing room. Leaving Charlie guarding the door outside, she let herself in. Rylan sat crumpled on the edge of the chair, her head in her hands. Francesca and Holly stood on one side, Rylan’s friends on the other. All of them seemed to be trying to comfort her, though it didn’t appear to be doing much good.

  Rylan looked up as Emma skidded to a stop in front of her. “Here!” Emma panted, tossing the dress to her. “This is the dress Allegra wanted you to wear in the first place.”

  Rylan’s eyes widened as she held up the dress. “It’s amazing!” She jumped to her feet. “Hold this,” she ordered, handing the new dress to Holly.

  She shoved one of her friends out of the way, kicked off her shoes, and shimmied out of the stained dress. Then, she grabbed the new dress back from Holly and slid it on.

  Holly zipped her up and slowly turned Rylan toward the mirror.

  “Are you ready?” Emma asked. Rylan smiled.

  “Yeah,” she said, looking her reflection up and down. “I’m ready.”

  “You look like a superstar, Ry,” Val spoke up. “And it fits you like a glove.”

  “Almost,” Emma agreed, digging into her purse for pins. “It’s a little big in the waist, but I should be able to fix that. Hold still.”

  After a nip and a tuck, the dress fit as if it had been made to order. Which it sort of had, Emma thought, as she stepped back and looked it over.

  “This is more like it.” Rylan beamed. “It’s beyond perfect! It’s exactly the dress I had in mind when I saw that blog. So gorgeous!” She turned toward Emma. “I can’t believe you spilled that soda. I never thought you had it in you. Totally inspired!” She grabbed Emma in a tight hug. “Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome,” Emma said, startled. She hugged her back tentatively. “From me and Allegra.”

  She smiled at Rylan, realizing that there really was a genuine person in there. Who knew? Maybe Rylan’s snooty exterior had something to do with those three perfect robot sisters of hers or her overbearing mother. Either way, it was too bad Rylan thought she had to act like someone else for the rest of the world.

  But then again, Emma also knew a little about acting like two different people...

  There was a knock on the door, and Charlie stuck his head in. “Everything okay in here?” he asked, stepping inside. “The birthday girl is being beckoned.”

  Charlie opened the door wide so they could all see the crowd shouting for their guest of honor. Rylan examined her reflection in the mirror one more time. “Mother’s going to have a stroke when she sees me,” she said happily. “Serves her right for being such a...such a...” She paused, obviously searching for the right word.

  “A harridan?” Charlie supplied helpfully.

  Rylan and her friends looked at him in surprise.

  “Charlie’s, like, Mr. Vocabulary,” Holly told them.

  “What’s a harridan?” Rylan asked him.

  Charlie looked surprised. Most people ignored his interesting word choices.

  “It’s pretty much the same as, like, a shrew. A mean old vicious nag of a woman,” he explained.

  “Why not just say that, then?” Val murmured.

  But Rylan was grinning. “A harridan,” she said, as if trying out the sound on her own tongue. “Yeah, I like that.”

  Emma felt a knot in her belly as she pictured Mrs. Sinclare’s reaction. She glanced at the crumpled-up dress lying forgotten on the dressing-room floor. The dress Rylan was wearing now was the complete opposite in every way.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked Rylan. “Your mom—”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let her blame Allegra or Paige or you guys either,” Rylan promised, sounding much more like her old, supremely confident self. “I’ll tell her it was all me. This time and also with the first ruined dress.”

  Emma’s jaw dropped, and then she smiled. “Cool,” she said, thinking of the fired maid. One more hint that maybe Rylan wasn’t as self-centered and shallow as Emma had always thought. Not quite, anyway. She still couldn’t quite forget that ice sculpture out front!

  Rylan grabbed a tube of berry lip gloss from the table, slicking it on. “I should have stood up to that harridan”—she shot Charlie a quick grin in the mirror—“as soon as she started taking over my birthday party.” Rylan capped the lip gloss, tossed it back on the table, and smacked her lips together. “Besides, Daddy just got back from his latest business trip, and he adores seeing me in blue. It’s his favorite color. I’ll make sure he’s on my side.”

  Emma hoped Rylan was right. Either way, Emma re
alized it was better this way. At least now Rylan could go out there with her head held high.

  Val peeked out the door. “They’re really yelling now, Ry,” she said.

  “Come on, girls.” Rylan lifted her chin and swept out the door to a loud roar from the crowd as the DJ announced the birthday girl. Her friends followed.

  “Oh, how exciting this is!” Francesca exclaimed, rushing out after them.

  Emma peeked out the door, wanting to see the reaction to the dress. When Rylan hit the edge of the dance floor, a spotlight picked her up, making the lustrous fabric glisten. Emma smiled.

  Then she noticed somebody nearby who wasn’t smiling. Mrs. Sinclare’s eyes had just gone wide and her jaw was dropped. But then about a million camera flashes went off; a bunch of friends rushed forward to surround Rylan; and Emma lost sight of Mrs. Sinclare.

  The music started pumping again, and Charlie’s limbs started jerking like he was a puppet on a string. “Come on, let’s get out there,” he said. “I need to get my groove on!”

  “Whoo-hoo!” Holly cried, boogying behind him out the dressing-room door.

  Emma was about to follow when her phone buzzed. She wondered if it was Paige.

  It wasn’t. But she didn’t recognize the number.

  Hi, wutz up? the text read.

  Who is this? she typed back.

  Jackson.

  Emma felt a shiver run down her spine. She stared at his name until it started to blur.

  Her phone buzzed again.

  From world history class.

  She laughed. Oh, wow. He actually thought she didn’t know who he was!

  She could hear Rylan’s laughter floating over the backbeat of the music. She had taken a risk tonight. A big one. And for someone who never took risks, it felt pretty great. Emma fiddled with her phone. She was ready for another.

  Want 2 go 2 catch a movie tmorrow?