Fashion Face-Off

by Sheryl Berk

  “Nope, just browsing,” she replied. “I think I’ll head down this aisle.”

  She found herself surrounded by cages of colorful, chirping birds and endless bags of seed. It reminded her of Percy the parakeet, and of course Aunt Olive, who was an avid bird-watcher.

  “I got almost everything,” JC said, racing past her with a shopping cart. “Why are you just standing there?”

  “I’m thinking,” Mickey said.

  JC glanced at his watch. “Think quicker! We have only fifteen more minutes.” He headed for the register as Mickey scanned the bags of birdseed.

  “Interesting,” she said out loud.

  “What is?” Jonah said, sneaking up behind her. “What do you think of this velour doggie bed? Do you think the material could make for a great bomber jacket?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Mickey said, not wanting to give him any hints or help. JC would kill her!

  She picked up an empty basket and began filling it with seed. Then she grabbed some feathered toys in the cat section and a dozen yellow doggie sweaters. Before she checked out, she grabbed a giant rope knot ball and something that looked like a rainbow-colored canvas tunnel—she assumed for cats and dogs to play in.

  “Interesting is right,” Jonah said, looking over her purchases. “You’ve got some unusual ideas, W girl.”

  “You must have some too—or the judges wouldn’t have picked you,” Mickey answered. “Unless you charmed Jade into helping you get a spot.”

  Jonah flashed a smile. “I am charming, aren’t I?” he said. “Thanks for noticing.”

  “What? Huh?” Mickey stammered. “I never said that.” JC was right. She had to watch every word and trust no one!

  “For the record, Jade’s not my type,” Jonah said. “Too uppity. All she wanted to talk about was herself. It got boring pretty fast.”

  Mickey really wanted to ask him what his type was—especially when his blue eyes sparkled at her under the fluorescent lights.

  “Mickey!” JC said, crashing his cart into Jonah’s. “Let’s get a move on…now!”

  Jonah smirked. “You usually take orders from this guy?”

  “No, she doesn’t take orders from anyone,” JC answered before Mickey could open her mouth. “Mickey does her own thing.”

  Mickey shrugged her shoulders. “I kinda do.”

  “Now that is my type,” Jonah said, flirting with her. “In case you were wondering.”

  • • •

  They were back on the bus in the backseat when JC read Mickey the riot act.

  “Are you crazy? He’s trying to sabotage you!”

  “What? You’re nuts. He’s just being friendly.”

  “So he can get to you,” JC insisted. “I’m telling you, every Assignment: Fashion has a slimy, backstabbing villain, and that guy is it.”

  Mickey crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe it. I think he’s nice.”

  “Nice? Nice?” JC was trying not to lose his temper. “Did you see that python in the tank at the pet store? It eats cute, fuzzy little mice for lunch.”

  “So?” Mickey asked.

  “So you’re the cute, fuzzy little mouse!” JC said, patting Mickey’s faux fur vest.

  “And you think Jonah’s the snake?”

  “Don’t think,” JC answered. “I know. He totally fits the character. They picked him because of it.”

  “I saw his sketchbook. They picked him because he’s really talented,” Mickey said.

  JC waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Whatever. I’ve seen every episode a dozen times, and I’m never wrong.”

  “Well, you were wrong about the unconventional challenge,” Mickey reminded him. Why was she getting so defensive? JC was her friend, not Jonah. But Jonah was really cute and kind of fun to talk to…

  “Fine,” she agreed. “I won’t get stuck in a trap.”

  “Ssssssmart choice,” JC hissed in her ear.

  Then she noticed the back of Jonah’s head seated a few rows in front of her, and her heart did a little flip-flop. She promised herself she’d be careful and mind what JC had told her—but what was the harm in making a new friend?

  The crew set the huge digital clock on the studio wall to count down eight hours.

  “They’re not kidding, are they?” Mickey said. “When they say one day for your challenge, they mean it.”

  “They’ll stop it somewhere around nine p.m. tonight,” JC explained. “That it resumes at eight a.m. tomorrow. We’ll have another three or four hours, then it’s time to show on the runway, whether your look is finished or not.”

  A pretty blond girl tapped JC on the shoulder. “You seem really knowledgeable,” she said. “Maybe you can give me a few pointers. I’m from Switzerland, and I’ve only seen the show once or twice.”

  “Not now, not ever!” JC snapped at her.

  “He left his manners at home.” Mickey tried to apologize.

  Soon every competitor in the room figured out they had to keep their distance—or JC would rip their heads off.

  He was setting up his needles and threads when Mickey peered over his shoulder.

  “No spying!” he shouted, throwing a sheet of muslin over the table to cover his patterns.

  “JC, it’s me,” Mickey said. “You don’t mean me.”

  “I do,” he said, regaining his composure. “I’m sorry, Mick, but you stay in your corner, and I’ll stay in mine.”

  This was getting ridiculous! JC was out of control and acting like a total design diva! But there was nothing she could do about it. The clock was ticking, and she had her own design to worry about.

  She carefully sketched out her vision in her notebook: a yellow halter sweater, a rainbow patterned mini hoop skirt, and a cropped jacket “beaded” with birdseed. She’d use the colorful rope from the ball to trim the cuffs and collar, and the feathers on the cat toys would be a colorful accent—maybe a headpiece. She hoped that the judges would like it. She winced as she imagined what Helga might say: “That look is for the birds!”

  “Do you have an extra thimble?” the blond girl asked her.

  Mickey dug in her sewing kit and pulled one out. “Sure, here ya go.”

  “That’s so nice of you. Not many kids here are nice.”

  “I think they’re just busy and focused,” Mickey explained. She was sure she was referring to JC. “There’s a lot of pressure.”

  The girl shrugged. “I’m just happy to be here. I go to a design school in Zurich. It’s very different.”

  “I can imagine!” Mickey said. “Wait, no, I can’t! I’ve never been to Switzerland. It must be beautiful.”

  “It is,” the girl explained. “I miss it. But my parents think it’s better for me to study fashion here in the United States.”

  Mickey nodded. “Well, I’m kind of away from my home too. I live in Philly, but I stay here in New York with my aunt so I can go to FAB.”

  “My name is Lara,” the girl said.

  “I’m Mickey. Nice to meet you.”

  “Can I ask you one more question, Mickey?” Lara asked shyly. “Can you look at my sketch and tell me if you think it’s okay?”

  Mickey looked around the room, making sure JC wasn’t watching her. He’d flip out if he saw her offering help to another competitor. She took the sketch from Lara and studied it. It was beautifully drawn and brilliantly conceived.

  “Is this coat made out of canvas?” Mickey asked her.

  “Actually, it’s the material the kitties scratch their claws on,” Lara replied. “I don’t know what you call it.”

  “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing,” Mickey said, whistling through her teeth. “A scratching post! But it must be so hard to sew with this material! Like stitching a rug, not a trench coat.”

  “I will have to do it all by hand, wh
ich is why I needed your thimble. Thank you.”

  Mickey smiled. JC wasn’t kidding—the competition was fierce.

  “Good luck, Lara,” Mickey called after her. The clock now had less than seven hours left—and she had to get down to business.

  • • •

  The time seemed to fly by, and before the students knew it, it was 9:00 p.m. and Helga was bouncing back into the workroom and telling them to pack up their work for the day.

  “You’ll have tomorrow to fit your models, meet with your hair and makeup stylists, and get everything ready for the runway.”

  “She says that like it’s easy,” Jonah groaned. “I’m not even halfway done with my design.”

  “Me neither,” Mickey said, sighing. She looked over at JC, who was meticulously placing his scissors in a neat line on his workstation.

  “You’re quiet,” Mickey said. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine, fine,” JC said. But Mickey knew her bestie. He wasn’t fine or anything close to it. If he were, he would be dancing around, humming a Madonna song.

  “How’s your design coming along?”

  “Fine, fine,” JC said again.

  “JC…” Mickey leaned in to whisper. “If you’re freaking out, you can tell me. I can help.”

  “I don’t want your help, Mickey,” he insisted. “I don’t want anybody’s help.”

  “I’m not just anybody,” Mickey replied. “I’m your best friend.”

  “Then mind your own beeswax,” JC shot back.

  Mickey tried not to take JC’s rudeness personally. He was clearly under a lot of stress and, like always, would apologize later. But she was worried about him. She decided to sneak a peek at his sketchbook while he went to the sewing room to gather his materials and pack them up.

  As she thumbed through the pages, she couldn’t believe what she saw: JC was designing a cropped jacket and matching sheath “beaded” with kitty litter.

  “You stole my idea!” she said when he returned to his table.

  “You looked in my sketchbook without my permission!” JC yelled.

  Helga signaled for one of the cameramen to come over. “Make sure you’re getting this on film,” she said. “Feuding friends!”

  “How could you?” Mickey shouted back. “Are you that desperate to win, JC?”

  “You know I would never steal another designer’s idea! How would I know you were doing something similar?”

  “Then how do you explain this?” Mickey demanded, waving his book in the air.

  “I don’t know!” JC said, wringing his hands. “It’s like when Jade had the same ruffled skirt made out of team jerseys as you did. Brilliant minds think alike.”

  “I don’t buy it,” Mickey said, storming away. “I think you want this so bad you would do anything—even steal from a friend—to get it. You looked at my sketches, and you won’t admit it.”

  She picked up her bag and left the room, leaving JC at his station, and the rest of the competitors staring with open mouths.

  “Wow,” Helga said. “That was intense. I can’t wait to see what happens tomorrow.” Then she turned the rest of the kids. “Night-night! Sleep tight! See you bright and early!”

  When the doors to the Assignment: Fashion workroom opened at 8:00 a.m., the students all rushed in to get back to sewing. Mickey saw JC but didn’t make eye contact—she was too angry. She had to simply focus on finishing her work and getting it ready for the runway. There was no time to scrap her original design and come up with something different from his. She hoped the judges wouldn’t disqualify them both!

  “You don’t have to worry,” JC said, suddenly approaching her table. “I’m not sending my look down the runway.”

  “What do you mean?” Mickey asked. “You have to. You have nothing else.”

  “Two similar looks always cancel each other out,” he said. “I’ve seen it happen on several different seasons. There’s no use in both of us losing.”

  “What? You can’t quit, JC!”

  “I don’t have a choice,” he replied. He circled Mickey’s dress form and examined her jacket, top and skirt. “Your design is better than mine, Mickey. It’s more ambitious, more out-of-the-box. It’s what the judges love.”

  “But this show means everything to you!”

  “Not everything,” JC said. “Your friendship means more. I couldn’t sleep last night, knowing how mad you were at me.”

  “I’m sorry!” Mickey cried. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

  JC tried to manage a joke. “What’s done is done. No use crying over spilled kitty litter, right?”

  “But what if you didn’t have to get rid of your look?” Mickey asked. “What if you change it up a bit.”

  “What do you mean?” JC asked.

  “Think about your Dalmatian-print jumpsuit,” Mickey suggested. “What if you dyed some of the kitty litter black…”

  “…and created a pattern. That’s genius. You know what would be even more genius?”

  Mickey raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Leopard spots! A kitty-litter cat print!”

  “Wow, cats and not dogs? That’s really thinking out of the box for you, JC.”

  “I know, right?” JC said. “I’m excited!”

  Mickey glanced at the clock—the models would be coming in any minute. “I’ll help,” she volunteered. “If we both work on it, we’ll get it done twice as fast.”

  “You would do that?” JC asked. “For me?”

  Mickey smiled. “What are friends for?”

  • • •

  The next few hours were a whirlwind of putting the finishing touches on the outfits, making sure they perfectly fit the models, getting their hair and makeup done, and rehearsing the walk on the runway.

  “Head up! Shoulders back,” Jonah instructed his model. Mickey admired the gorgeous emerald-green gown he’d made her. The skirt was stiff and sculpted into a bell-like shape.

  “That’s not your seaweed fabric, is it?” she asked him.

  “I wish! It’s the green turf used to decorate the bottom of an aquarium,” he said. “And the bodice is a mosaic of aquarium pebbles.”

  “Wow!” Mickey said. “I would never know it wasn’t couture.”

  “Let’s hope the judges agree,” Jonah said crossing his fingers, “and that they don’t throw me to the sharks.”

  The contestants and their models made their way to the runway, where Helga, Jack, and Lena were all seated, waiting for the show to begin. The audience had also filed in to watch the competition. Mr. Kaye was front and center along with Jade and her mom. And in the back row, waving at Mickey, was Aunt Olive. The rest of the parents, friends, and fashion insiders filled in the seats.

  “Don’t pay attention to the crowd,” JC advised Mickey. “When you present your look to the judges, it’s only you and them. Got it?”

  Mickey nodded, but her nerves were on edge. “Just look at the judges, not the people,” she repeated back to him.

  “And not the cameras either,” JC coached her. “You want to look cool and confident—not like a deer caught in the headlights.”

  “Try to forget a gazillion people around the world will be watching you,” Jonah added. “And in my case, a pair of disapproving parents.”

  JC actually felt a pang of sympathy for him. “Your parents don’t want you to be a designer?” he asked. “That’s awful. I don’t know what I’d do if fashion wasn’t an option for me.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re lucky. You have parents and teachers and friends who believe in you. I just have me.”

  “Not true,” Mickey said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “I believe in you.”

  Jonah smiled. “Really? No one has ever told me that before.” He gazed into her eyes.

  “Okay, lovebirds, we have
a runway to rock,” JC said, dragging them both to their seats.

  “What? No! We’re just friends,” Mickey assured him.

  “Uh-huh,” JC whispered. “Friends who make goo-goo eyes at each other.”

  She took a seat between the two of them and tried her best to focus. She saw that Lara was biting her nails, and another kid was banging his head on the back of a chair. Everyone was falling apart at the seams!

  “You nervous?” Lara asked her.

  “Uh-huh,” Mickey said. “My knees are knocking.”

  “Oh.” Lara laughed. “I thought those were mine making that noise!”

  Helga held up her hand and summoned everyone’s attention.

  “Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the runway for Assignment: Fashion Jr. I am pleased to present the very brightest young designers from around the world, competing today for the title of champion and a five-thousand-dollar scholarship to help jump-start their fashion career. We will also have three runners-up taking home two-thousand dollar, one-thousand-dollar, and five-hundred-dollar scholarships respectively.”

  She introduced the judges, then cued the lights and music. The models paraded down the runway one by one, wearing each of the contestants’ pet store–inspired designs.

  JC was wide-eyed, taking it all in. “They’re all so good,” he whispered to Mickey. “This is going to be a tough choice for the judges.” He took out a sheet of paper and began jotting down notes.

  “What are you doing?” Mickey asked.

  “Figuring out the winners,” he said. “It’s really pretty logical. I know Helga, Jack, and Lena’s voting records over the past thirteen seasons. I know what they like and what they don’t. I should be able to get it down to the top five easily.”

  Jonah leaned over. “Could you maybe put my name down on your list? That’s my design coming down the runway now.”

  JC watched the model walk, pause, turn, and walk again. The green turf gown was a sculptural masterpiece, and the strapless bodice, made from blue, yellow, and purple pebbles, looked more like a piece of art than aquarium supplies.

  “I might rank you in the top five,” JC said thoughtfully. “You did a great job. The workmanship is flawless, and it shows great creativity. It’s right up Jack’s alley.”