Stitches and Stones

by Chloe Taylor

  “It’s cool!” Shannon replied.

  “Yeah, actually, it is,” added Bree. “Can you show us how to do it?”

  “We won’t bite,” Ivy said, seeing Zoey’s puzzled expression.

  Now Zoey was really confused. Had aliens arrived at Mapleton Prep and switched the mean girls with nice ones? Were they just being on their best behavior because of Ms. Austen’s warning? Somehow, Zoey decided, this felt genuine, so she decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

  “Well?” Ivy asked.

  “I saw a how-to video online,” Zoey said. “I think they called it an upside-down French braid.”

  “It looks complicated,” Shannon said.

  Zoey paused. “Not really. You just start braiding from the back of your head, by your neck, and then work your way up to your forehead. Look it up online.”

  “Thanks!” Bree said.

  “Yeah, thanks, Zoey,” Shannon piped in.

  Zoey walked away, thinking about what had just happened. Shannon was Zoey’s friend in elementary school, and sometimes she was still nice to Zoey when Ivy and Bree weren’t around. But she wouldn’t usually be nice to Zoey in front of Bree or Ivy. What was going on? Did they really just like her hair? Being nice wasn’t their style.

  Zoey was distracted on the bus ride home. She almost didn’t care about the trio of girls at school anymore when she thought about what had happened recently on Sew Zoey. People she didn’t even know had written in to say that they didn’t like her clothes and that she was a joke. She hoped that blocking the users would make a difference, and it felt good to do something. But was holding her breath on the way home, waiting to see what would happen when she checked her blog again.

  “What’s the matter, Zo?” Kate asked. “You’re in la-la land. Did you hear a thing I just said?”

  “I’m sorry.” Zoey sighed. “I just . . . I’m really upset about these comments that keep showing up on my blog. Really nasty ones. More every day.”

  “Oh! I saw those. They were awful!” Kate exclaimed. “But since you didn’t mention them I thought they weren’t bothering you. Who would write something like that?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the problem. But it’s really starting to freak me out. I thought they would stop, but it just keeps getting worse. I kind of thought I was being too sensitive since you and Priti didn’t say anything, but I guess not.”

  “Have you talked to your dad?” Kate asked.

  “No,” Zoey confessed. “I’m afraid if I do, he’ll overreact and make me shut down the whole blog.”

  Kate frowned. “Are you sure? Maybe he’ll just know how to help without making you do that.”

  Zoey shook her head.

  “Remember the fight you and I got into the last time he got worried about what was happening on my blog? You thought I was mad at you and was deleting your name on purpose, but it was actually my dad deleting names to protect our privacy.”

  “Oh yeah,” Kate said. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “This morning, I blocked all the commenters who wrote nasty stuff, so hopefully there won’t be any when I check after I get home. I hope it works. Other than doing that, I don’t know what to do.”

  “If it were me, I’d take a soccer ball outside and kick it around until I felt better,” Kate said. “Sometimes I find just messing around with the ball helps me find the answer.”

  Zoey laughed. “You know me, Kate. I’m totally sports challenged. If I tried doing that, I’d just end up getting more frustrated and upset! And probably hurt!”

  Kate grinned. “I guess. Well, at least you aren’t having crush problems. That’s what I thought you were upset about.”

  Zoey hadn’t even thought about her crush on Lorenzo. Or about how Gabe was kind of cute too. Well, maybe she’d thought about that a little bit when he’d been wearing his great-grandfather’s top hat. But she’d had too much else on her mind.

  “I’ve got other things to worry about right now,” she said.

  “Why don’t we tell everyone else at lunch tomorrow?” Kate suggested. “Maybe they’ll have some good ideas. I bet they will, you know?”

  Zoey thought that was a good plan, because she already felt a little better now that she and Kate had talked.

  But the feeling was short lived. When she got home and checked her blog, there were more mean comments. . . . This time from new readers. As soon as she blocked one username, it seemed, another person would spring up and write something even nastier. It was starting to feel like the world was full of people who didn’t like her or Sew Zoey. It made her feel horrible and small and alone.

  At least she had Marcus’s band practice to distract her. They were all down in the basement, practicing their usual stuff, but Marcus had promised they would play her karaoke song so she could practice. Zoey went downstairs and sat on the bottom step, waiting patiently until the band finished the song they were playing.

  “Hey, Zoey,” said Marcus’s friend Dan, who played guitar. “You ready?”

  Ralph, the lead singer, handed Zoey his microphone. “Over to you, Zo,” he said.

  Marcus tapped out the opening on his sticks and they started playing. Zoey was distracted from thinking about the comments and missed the first cue. They had to start over. Ralph offered to cue her.

  “But you won’t be there on Friday,” Zoey wailed. “I need to get it right by myself.”

  “It’s okay,” Ralph said. “Just this one time, and then you’ll get it.”

  They started over, and this time Zoey kept her eyes on Ralph and her mind on the song and came in right when she should.

  “You are you and I am me

  And that’s the way it

  All should be

  ’Cause no one should

  Have to pretend

  For us to be

  The best of friends . . .”

  They ran through the song twice, and after the second time, Zoey felt much more confident. She stayed and listened to the band practice until Mr. Webber shouted down to say that Priti was at the door. Zoey ran upstairs to meet her.

  “Here’s the fabric,” Priti said, handing a plastic bag to Zoey.

  “Thanks,” Zoey said. “Guess what? I just practiced our song with Marcus’s band! Wanna join us?”

  “Fun! I wish I could, but my mom’s waiting.”

  Mrs. Holbrooke honked the horn twice, clearly impatient. Priti’s smile dimmed, but only for a second.

  “Got to run. Make us awesome stuff!” Priti shouted as she ran to her mom’s car.

  “I will!” Zoey called after her.

  As Zoey went inside, she wondered again what was going on with Priti and her family. She hoped Priti would confide in her soon.

  Upstairs in her room, Zoey decided to check her blog before working on ideas for the accessories. Maybe it’ll be better this time, she thought as she scrolled through the comments.

  Nothing over-the-top bad! Did the blocking really work?

  Then she refreshed the page, and a new user comment popped up.

  Sew Zoey? Sew stupid.

  Zoey blocked the user, saying good-bye as she clicked on the button. I am so tired of this, she thought. Why does everyone hate me?

  She felt so gloomy, she almost didn’t check her e-mail—but was she ever glad she did! Because there, in her in-box, was an e-mail from the online editor of Très Chic, her favorite magazine:

  Dear Sew Zoey,

  I’m the online editor at Très Chic magazine’s website, and I’m writing to see if you would be interested in participating in a special feature for our online edition. We’re doing a series of kid-focused “Day in the Life of a Designer” interviews and would like to include you and your blog!

  If you’re interested, we’ll send a reporter and a photographer to your town to shadow you as you go about your day, work on sewing projects, etc. You’ll have to get permission from your parents and your school, of course, and have them sign release forms.

  I’m attaching
a list of other young fashion designers we’re approaching for the piece. You’re in good company! You might know of Allie Lovallo? She has an accessory design blog, Always Allie Accessories. If you can think of other young designers of your caliber that should be included on the list, please let me know!

  So, that’s all for now. I do hope you’re up for it. It wouldn’t be a good feature about young designers without you!

  Best wishes,

  Isabella Caminelli

  PS Please feel free to call me Izzy!

  Whoa! Zoey didn’t dare touch her computer at first, for fear that the whole e-mail was a dream and would vanish into thin air if she closed the screen. So she blinked her eyes a few times. . . . And when she opened them, the e-mail was still there. And “Call Me Izzy” had an e-mail address that ended in @treschiczine.com, which seemed pretty legitimate. Now Zoey was beyond excited! She had really needed some good news right at that very moment, but she never would have expected that she would get the best news: the chance to be in a feature on the online edition of her favorite magazine of all time. Did people at Très Chic really know about Sew Zoey? Was it because of her appearance on Fashion Showdown?

  She was almost more excited to know there were so many other kids who were interested in designing and sewing. Not everyone on the list had a blog, but a few of them did, including Allie Lovallo. She checked out Allie’s blog, and her handbag, headband, and jewelry designs were really cute. When she read the About Me section, she saw that Allie lived not too far from Zoey. I wonder if Allie ever has to deal with mean comments on her blog? Zoey thought. Just thinking about it made her feel less alone.

  Zoey wrote a quick reply to say she had to ask her dad first, but that if he agreed, it would be her dream come true to be in the feature. The editor wrote back straightaway with the parent and school release forms and asked Zoey to return them as soon as possible if she was interested in being a part of the feature.

  Was she interested? Definitely! Zoey printed out the e-mail and permission form and headed downstairs to find her dad. He was in the living room watching a football game and making a grocery list at the same time.

  “Hey, Dad! Guess what! Très Chic wants to do a feature on me for their online edition!” Zoey said, handing him the e-mail from the editor.

  Mr. Webber read it and smiled up at his daughter. “Wow, fame just keeps on knocking at your door, eh, Zoey?”

  Zoey thought about the mean comments on her blog. Fame wasn’t the only thing that was knocking on her door.

  “I guess so,” she said. “Anyway, they need your permission.”

  Zoey gave her dad the permission forms.

  “If you are up for it, I’m up for it!”

  Normally, Zoey wouldn’t have hesitated, but she did wonder for a second if being in the feature would make more people discover Sew Zoey and write awful things about it. But only for a second. Then she decided that whatever happened, this would be worth it. There was no way she was going to let some stupid comments stop her from doing something she really loved. No way.

  “Definitely!”

  “Okey-dokey! I’ll sign, scan, and e-mail it back to them tonight before I go to bed,” her dad said. “You know, things are going to be busy for a while with the championship games coming up . . . so this is perfect timing. I’m so proud of you, Zoey.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Zoey hugged her father before going back up to her room, taking the stairs two at a time, filled with a new energy.

  She spread the sparkly, sequined material out on her worktable. It caught the light and shimmered with possibility as it settled on the flat surface. How could she best use it to make accessories for the four friends?

  Zoey measured the material carefully to see how much of it she had. Then she got out her sketchbook, flopped onto her bed, and started playing with ideas, trying to figure out how many things she’d be able to make with the length of fabric.

  When she was satisfied, she went to the closet and moved her own clothes aside to get to the section where she kept her mother’s designs. Tomorrow was Decades Day, and Zoey was going to wear one of her mother’s dresses for her nineties outfit. She hung the dress on the outside of her closet door and wondered what her mom would say about the comments on her blog, how she would tell Zoey to deal with them.

  It’s not like she could ever know. She could only imagine.

  Zoey wasn’t one to mope for long. She knew she would always have her dad, Marcus, Aunt Lulu, and her friends to back her up if she ever really needed it. She also had all the online friends and supporters she’d made through Sew Zoey. And she had a blog post to write for them before she went to bed!

  - - - - CHAPTER 5 - - - -

  Time Travel . . . Fashion Style!

  It’s Decades Day and between us, my friends and I are spanning the last four decades of the twentieth century. Libby’s going to be a sixties flower child; Priti’s going full-on seventies disco, complete with platform shoes and as many shiny, plasticky fabrics as she can find in her house; and Kate has got the absolutely perfect outfit for herself—she found an old Jane Fonda workout video at her grandma’s house and she’s going to dress like the original eighties home exercise video queen, with a leotard and tights and big leg warmers. As for me, I’m going to dress like my mom did in high school, or so Aunt Lulu tells me—nineties grunge. Aunt Lulu says by today’s standards, it wasn’t a great look, but it’s growing on me. I’m wearing one of Mom’s designs, and Aunt Lulu loaned me her black Doc Martens, which fit if I wear really thick socks, but that’s okay because the socks kind of complete the look, anyway.

  Ooooh! GUESS WHAT?! I can’t believe I managed to get halfway through the blog post before I spilled this news! I got an e-mail yesterday from the online editor of my absolute favorite magazine, Très Chic, and they want to do a profile on me for a special “Day in the Life of a Designer” piece about young designers! Crazy, right?

  I know what you’re thinking: Is this for real? Yes, it’s for real! Your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you. I’m going to be in Très Chic!!

  They’re sending a reporter and a photographer to follow me around for a day, at home and at school. I’m so excited! And also a little nervous. But mostly excited!

  “Great Doc Martens,” Gabe said, when Zoey sat behind him in English the next morning. “And your dress is really pretty.”

  “It’s my mom’s,” Zoey said. “She made it.”

  “Oh, so your mom is into sewing too?” he said. “I guess that’s where you get it from. I bet she’s really proud of you, huh?”

  Zoey didn’t know how to respond. Obviously, Gabe didn’t know her mom died when she was little. She thought everyone knew—that it was an accepted part of her identity, just like she was Zoey Webber, the girl who had a fashion blog.

  “Uh, yeah,” she said, but she didn’t tell him she only knew that because her father and Aunt Lulu told her that her mom would have been. She figured it would have just made it awkward for both of them.

  But it made her feel unsettled for the rest of the morning. Libby could tell something was up as soon as she sat down at the lunch table.

  “What’s the matter, Zoey?” she asked.

  Kate didn’t know about the Gabe incident, but she gave Zoey a meaningful look, urging her to tell Libby and Priti about her blog problems, as they’d talked about on the bus yesterday.

  “I’ve been having problems on Sew Zoey,” Zoey said. “There are a bunch of new readers, and they’ve been posting some really mean things.”

  “Like what?” Priti asked. “I haven’t been on the last day or two.”

  “Saying that I’m a fraud and I don’t even sew my own designs.”

  “What?!” Libby exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous! Everyone knows you do.”

  “Of course we know it,” Kate said. “Because we know Zoey. But they don’t—the people on the Internet who don’t actually know Zoey for real.”

  “They’ve said lots of other horrible stuff a
bout my designs,” Zoey said. “I finally started blocking people so they can’t add comments. But it seems like as soon as I block one user, a new one pops up.”

  “Do you think it’s you know who and friends?” Priti asked.

  “I don’t know,” Zoey sighed. “I have no way of telling. Besides, there are a lot of new users, not just three. I’ve lost count. It feels like everyone is out to get me. Since when is there a We Hate Sew Zoey fan club?”

  “There’s got to be some way of finding out who is doing it,” Libby said.

  “Ivy’s been supernice in school since Ms. Austen gave them all a warning,” Zoey said. “So I don’t think it’s her. . . .”

  “I wonder how long that’s going to last,” Kate remarked.

  “Me too,” Priti said.

  “Me three,” Zoey said. “Because it’s not going to last forever.”

  It didn’t.

  Later that afternoon, Zoey came around the corner of the hallway and bumped into you know who herself, trailed by Shannon and Bree. They were all dressed as punk rockers. Ivy had a fake pink wig and safety pin earrings.

  “That dress looks like it’s ready for the rag pile,” Bree said.

  “I know, right?” Shannon agreed.

  “Totally. It’s hideous,” Ivy said. “I would never wear that rag to school. Or those horrible mannish boots.”

  “They’re called Doc Martens,” Zoey said, trying to control the shaking in her voice. “As a matter of fact, a lot of female punk rockers wore them.”

  She walked away, ignoring the laughter and snide comments that followed her.

  It was bad enough that Ivy made comments about Aunt Lulu’s boots. But how dare she insult her mom’s dress? That hurt Zoey in an even deeper place.

  She was still upset about it when Libby’s mom dropped off the girls at The Perfect Ten to get their nails painted in the school colors for the grand finale of Spirit Week. Friday was School Colors Day, and the whole school would be gathering in the auditorium to watch the karaoke competition.