by Sheryl Berk
He stepped back from the box, referee whistle in hand. “On your mark, get set…go!” He blew the whistle, and everyone ran for the container, pushing and shoving and clawing at the clothes inside it. Jade, of course, got there first and managed to elbow everyone else out of her way while she color-coordinated her materials.
Mickey reached over Mars’s head and pulled out a few pieces without even seeing them. “Is this a vest?” she asked, examining a shapeless, green mesh tank.
“I think it’s called a pinnie,” Gabriel said. He handed her one of his castoffs—a yellow soccer shirt. “Make sure you get lots to work with. You can always scrap one if you don’t like it. But you don’t want to come up short.”
Mickey nodded and squeezed her arm in between South and Jake who were playing tug-of-war with a pair of red sweatpants. She pulled out several more pieces and threw them over her shoulders. One was a hoodie; another a pin-striped baseball jersey. When she finally got to peer inside the box, there were only baseball hats and a few referee whistles remaining. She scooped up a bunch of caps and crossed her fingers that she’d gotten enough. She hoped that something, anything, would ignite her creativity. Her grade depended on it!
At home that night, Mickey spilled out all the materials she’d managed to snag: a Rangers hockey jersey, a pair of yellow-and-purple Lakers shorts, several pairs of sweatpants, and a black ribbed running tank. She placed a baseball cap on her head and tried to think. The problem was that none of the pieces seemed to go together. Had she actually suggested making a tuxedo? Out of this?
Aunt Olive poked her head into Mickey’s bedroom. “Care for a slice of my Very Veggie Casserole? It’s filled with leeks, zucchini, eggplant, peppers, broccoli, carrots, and squash—with vegan grated cheese on top.”
Mickey wrinkled her nose. “Um, thanks, Aunt Olive, but I’m not that hungry.”
Her aunt waved a plate. “You sure? Hot out of the oven! I’ll just leave it here in case you change your mind.” She placed the dish on the nightstand next to Mickey’s bed. The slice was an odd layered mixture of green, orange, and purple in a crust spotted with yellowy flakes that Mickey assumed were the shreds of vegan cheese.
Olive noticed her hesitation. “I know it doesn’t look pretty, but it tastes delicious,” she insisted. “Try just a forkful. I promise, you’ll love it.”
Mickey took a tiny piece and placed it on the tip of her tongue. Hmm…it wasn’t bad. She took another bite, and another, and another.
“Told ya so!” Olive beamed. “All the flavors of the veggies just meld together…and the texture too.”
She was absolutely right, Mickey thought. This strange combination did create culinary magic. “Can I have seconds?” she asked her aunt.
“Comin’ right up!” Olive replied, racing back to the kitchen.
Mickey stared down at the pile of uniforms and accessories. Like her aunt’s ingredients, they were all different colors and textures. She picked up a yellow tee and placed it on top of an orange hoodie—then laid a green baseball hat on top. Maybe that was her problem. Next to each other, they didn’t work, but if she chopped up the pieces and mixed them into layers…
She grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting.
“My goodness!” Olive exclaimed, reappearing with a second helping of casserole. “Why are you killing those clothes?”
“I’m creating a recipe,” Mickey explained, using her colored pencils to sketch how the scraps would come together. “A pinch of this, a sprinkle of that,” she muttered to herself. She was completely in the zone as she liked to call it—the moment when her design sprang to life from her imagination onto the page of her sketchbook.
And with any luck, the result would be as yummy as Olive’s dinner—or at least enough to whet Mr. Kaye’s appetite.
• • •
“I’m speechless,” Mr. Kaye said, shaking his head.
Mickey didn’t know if that was good or bad—or if showing him her drawing the next morning was the best idea. But she needed the feedback.
“I know it’s a little out there,” she tried to explain.
“It is…but in a jaw-droppingly brilliant way. What you’re attempting…well, it’s very exciting. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Jaw-dropping. Brilliant. Exciting. Mickey could hardly believe her ears. Did he mean her sketch?
“Carry on, Mackenzie,” he added. “This design has a great deal of potential.”
Mickey floated out of his office—and nearly crashed head-on into Jade, who was strolling down the hall taking selfies of her OOTD.
“Watch it, weirdo,” Jade snapped. “You almost got in my Instagram shot.”
“Sorry!” Mickey replied. “I was just coming from Mr. Kaye’s office…”
“Of course you were.” Jade snickered. “Were you begging for help—or an extension?”
“Neither,” Mickey said, clutching her sketchbook tightly to her chest. “I have an idea, and he likes it…a lot. He said it was jaw-droppingly brilliant.”
Jade’s face grew pale. “Well, I’m sure it’s not nearly as good as my design.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Mickey taunted her. “But you’ll just have to wait to see.”
She snapped her fingers in the air and walked away. JC was waiting by her locker. “You should have been there,” she told him. “I think I actually just scared the sequins off Jade.”
“How’d ya do that? Take away her platinum AMEX card?” JC joked.
“I told her how much Mr. Kaye loved my final project design.”
JC looked worried. “Careful, Mick. Kaye has a really short memory. He could totally change his mind tomorrow. Like Helga says on Assignment: Fashion, ‘One day you’re hot. The next day you’re not.’”
“Don’t be silly,” Mickey insisted. “He called it brilliant and exciting. And I’m gonna score a goal or a home run—or whatever you do to win in football.”
JC chuckled. “You mean a touchdown. And I hope so.” He pointed to Jade who had Jake by the arm and was whispering in his ear. “’Cause Jade is not a good sport.”
The two weeks flew by, and Mickey was putting the finishing touches on her final project. She had shown it to no one—not JC, not Aunt Olive, not even her mom whom she always FaceTimed when she was working on her assignments.
“Can’t I get a little sneak peek?” her mom had pleaded.
Mickey shook her head. “Nope, not till I present it in class. It’s top secret, but I will tell you I’m really proud of it.”
“And I’m proud of you,” her mom replied. “You’ve had an amazing first year at FAB. You’ve worked hard, and you’ve proven yourself a talented designer. Which I always knew you were…”
“We’ll see what Mr. Kaye says,” Mickey said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “JC says he’s fashion fickle.”
Her mom chuckled. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning he could say he likes my sketch and then hate my final design.”
“That won’t happen,” her mom promised her. “I believe in you, Mick. You get your brains from me, after all.”
“And my style!” Mickey piped up. Her mom was the one who had taught her to shop at flea markets and fearlessly combine old and new, leather and lace, plaid and polka dot. She was a makeup artist who brought artistry into everything she did, from her outfits to her homemade breakfasts.
“So I’ll be home this weekend. Can we have pineapple chocolate-chip pancakes with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles?” Mickey asked.
“I already went shopping for the ingredients,” her mom said. “I’m one step ahead of you.”
But before she could go home to Philly for her mom’s special Sunday breakfast, there was the not-so-small matter of her Advance Apparel Arts final presentation. Mickey carefully packed her design in its garment bag and carried
it delicately over her arm as she climbed onto the school bus.
As she sat there, watching the traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge whiz by outside the window, she tried to think back to the first day she had taken this ride. Then, she was a nervous newbie who pictured herself taking FAB by storm. In reality, it had been a much harder road. She’d had to prove herself time and time again and learn to trust her instincts. Mr. Kaye always told her that the best designers are true to themselves—and that’s what she’d always been. Even if her classmates—especially Jade—thought she was weird and her designs were bizarre, everything Mickey created came from her heart.
As the bus pulled up to FAB, she stepped off and climbed the steps to the school entrance. This was the exact spot where she had first met JC. He had spotted her coming off the bus and made a beeline for the clueless new girl who needed help. She was no longer that girl. Now she had confidence and could easily find her way around the halls and studios. She held her head high at FAB; she was one of them.
“Big day!” said a voice sneaking up behind her. Mickey jumped.
“JC! You scared me!”
“You’re scared? I’m giving my final presentation today in my Sequins and Studs class. Ms. Rollings said she’s deducting one full letter grade for every dropped stitch. I was up all night with a magnifying glass making sure I had none.”
“Did you do the Dalmatian-print jumpsuit you told me about?”
JC winked. “With white-and-black sequin spots. It’s beyond.”
“She’ll love it,” Mickey assured him. It was a very clever play on the project theme, “Get to the point,” as well as a perfect way to showcase JC’s love for all things canine.
“I made Madonna a mini version,” he said, unzipping his bag. Madonna’s tiny head popped up. She was wearing a sequin-dotted dress and a pearl collar.
Mickey giggled. “Beyond!”
Then she checked the time on her phone. First period would be starting in fifteen minutes. “Wish me luck,” she told her friend and squeezed his hand.
“Break a heel,” he said. “That’s fashion-speak for go slay it!”
• • •
When she got to the studio, she was shocked that Jade wasn’t already there unwrapping her work. Usually she was the first one in, eager to show off.
Mickey rolled her dress form next to her desk, unzipped the garment bag, and gently lifted the fabric out. She began dressing the figure in the huge, ruffled ball gown. Each of the layers of the skirt was made from assorted uniforms. The colors formed a billowy rainbow, and the skirt itself reminded Mickey of a ball.
South walked in, and her jaw dropped.
“Mickey, that’s…that’s…” she stammered.
“I know. I worked so hard on it. I think it’s really original.”
“No, it’s not,” South told her. “It’s exactly what Jade did!”
Mickey’s face went pale. “What? That’s impossible. How could two people make the exact same design out of team jerseys?”
“It’s not exact—but it’s really close,” South said. “I just saw Jade coming up the stairs wearing her version. It’s the same idea you had: a long ruffled skirt and a tank top.” She checked Jade’s Snapchat story. “See? Here she is twirling around in it…and here she is pushing Jake out of the limo…”
Mickey shook her head. This wasn’t happening. Not today, the biggest day of her sixth-grade life at FAB. Jade’s design was incredibly similar to hers. It didn’t have quite as much length or volume, but there were layers upon layers of jersey scraps used to make tiers of ruffles. And the bodice was the same black tank that Jade had bead-dazzled.
“I have to do something,” Mickey said, grabbing her backpack and sewing kit. “I have to change it.”
“Now? With ten minutes before class starts?” South exclaimed.
Mickey dug in her bag for something, anything, she could add to make it different. Her hands found a few baseball caps she hadn’t used and was planning to return to the scrap box.
“This! This will have to do!” She whipped out a pair of scissors and sliced off the back of the cap. Then she stacked them to make a petal-like shoulder detail on her tank-top shoulders. She hand-sewed fast and furiously and was just finishing up when Jade strolled in.
She froze in her steps when she saw Mickey’s design. “You copied me!” she shrieked.
“I copied you?” Mickey fired back. “I showed my sketch to Mr. Kaye long before you ever came up with your design. And you were mad that he liked it.”
“I don’t need to steal anyone’s work.” Jade sniffed. “People imitate me…not vice versa.”
“There’s no sense in fighting over it.” Jake jumped in between them. “What’s done is done.”
Gabriel walked in the room next. “Whoa!” he gasped, seeing both Mickey’s and Jade’s dresses. “Can you say ‘hashtag twinning’?”
Jade’s face turned red, and Mickey swore she saw steam coming out of her rival ears. “If I get a bad grade because of you…” she said, pointing a finger in Mickey’s face.
Mars was the last person to arrive in the studio and gave Mickey’s dress form a quick once-over. “I love it,” she told Mickey. Then she looked at Jade’s. “Um, ditto?”
Mickey took her seat and rested her head in her hands. This was not going the way she had hoped.
Mr. Kaye arrived right on time and began pulling items out of his briefcase. He took out his grade book and a red pen.
“I hate that pen,” Gabriel whispered to Mickey. “It’s evil.”
“Who wants to present first?” their teacher asked, flipping through the pages of the book.
Mickey gulped. Maybe he won’t notice how similar my dress is to Jade’s? Then she thought again: Who am I kidding? Mr. Kaye misses nothing!
She raised her hand high in the air, and so did Jade.
“Ooh, ooh! Me, me!” Jade pleaded.
Mickey stood up. No way was Jade going to wow Mr. Kaye and make her design look like an imitation! “No, me!” she said. “I’d like to go first.”
“Oh, I bet you would!” Jade said through gritted teeth.
Mr. Kaye looked over the tops of his reading glasses and suddenly saw what the two girls were arguing over.
“My word! What happened here?” he asked, flabbergasted. “Why are your two final projects so similar?”
“Because she copied me!” Jade shouted.
“In your dreams!” Mickey yelled back. “Mr. Kaye saw my sketch, and this was it. I was making this gown all along.”
“True, true,” he remarked. “But did you show your sketch to anyone else?”
Mickey shook her head. “No. No one. Not even my mom.”
“Then Jade couldn’t have copied you, could she?” he asked her.
“I guess not?” Mickey considered.
Mr. Kaye took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. “This is one of those rare cases where brilliant minds think alike,” he said. “Mickey, you made a ball gown, and, Jade, you did a high-low dress—both with the same ruffled texture and materials. But this…” He suddenly walked toward Mickey’s dress form. “These shoulder embellishments are ingenious! Are these made from baseball caps?”
Mickey nodded. “I just stuck them on at the last minute so I wouldn’t have the exact same look as Jade.”
“Good heavens, this was a split-second addition?” he gushed. “It’s genius!”
Mickey silently breathed a sigh of relief. She hoped that meant she had earned an A.
The rest of the class each presented their looks: Mars had created a soccer T-shirt dress with an intricate collar made from silver referee whistles. South had cropped a sweatshirt and added fringe at the bottom from a pair of pom-poms; then she’d created a pencil skirt out of the legs of track shorts stitched together. Gabriel was super proud of his look as well: a wrap d
ress embellished with assorted letters and numbers he’d pulled off team uniforms.
“Clever,” Mr. Kaye said, observing his workmanship. “You created your own textile. And well done on the execution. The stitching is flawless.” Gabriel beamed. He was sure to get a passing grade this year—maybe even an A.
Mr. Kaye sat back down at his desk and tapped his pen against his chin. “I have a very difficult decision to make,” he said slowly. “You see, not only will the winner of this final project receive an A in my class, but a bonus as well.”
A bonus? Mickey liked the sound of that! Just last semester, Mr. Kaye had taken his top students—including her and JC—to Paris to compete against other budding young designers. Maybe he was planning a trip to Madrid…or Milan…or even LA Fashion Week!
“I suppose I should consider the designer with the most photogenic work,” he said.
“If you mean who could be on a magazine cover, that would be me,” Jade insisted, twirling in her design. “I’m always being photographed by paparazzi, and my mom has had me model several of her looks in Teen Vogue.”
“Then you don’t need a bonus,” Mars whispered. “Let someone else have a chance!”
Mr. Kaye walked over once again to Mickey’s gown. “I know you have the wherewithal,” he said. “But I’m not sure about the courage and confidence.”
Mickey shrugged. She had no idea what he was talking about. But if confidence was what he wanted…
“I can do it—whatever it is,” she told her teacher. “I know I can. I’ve come such a long way this year, and I really believe in myself and my talent. Please give me the chance to prove it to you!”
Mr. Kaye nodded. “Fine. Mackenzie, meet me in my office fourth period.”
Jade stamped her feet. “That’s not fair!” she pouted. “I did the same design.”
Yes, Mickey thought to herself with a smile, but I did it better!
When Mickey reported to Mr. Kaye’s office, she was surprised to find JC already seated inside. He waved and gave her a thumbs-up.
