Fashion Frenzy
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Copyright Page
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
Want more Frannie?
For Nina, of course.—AJS
Thanks as always to everyone at Penguin: Francesco Sedita, Bonnie Bader, Caroline Sun, Scottie Bowditch, and my editor, Jordan Hamessley, and also, of course, to Doreen Mulryan Marts, who draws Frannie just like I’d pictured her. Your support and enthusiasm is unparalleled! To Julie Barer, who negotiates like nobody’s business and to my family and friends for their support. And of course to my nieces and nephews: Maisie, Mia, Lili, Adam, and Nathan, without whom I’d have lost touch long ago with the bane and beauty of kid linguistics.—AJS
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Text copyright © 2011 by AJ Stern. Illustrations copyright © 2011
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CHAPTER 1
My day started out so perfect I knew that nothing could go wrong. When I got downstairs for breakfast, my dad told me we’d run out of eggs and asked if I’d mind waffles. Or pancakes. Or BOTH. After he made me both and laid the plate down in front of my face, he went to get the powdered sugar. Powdered sugar is my favorite. He tip-topped it over the pancakes while looking at the paper and was so distractified, too much came out! Then, when he poured the syrup for me, the cap was loose and lots of syrup came out. It was the sugariest kind of breakfast. That is how my day started out. Sweet and not even one bit sour.
Even my mom was in a good mood. She drove me to school whistling. Usually she was grumpy in the morning until the very last sip of her first cup of coffee. Today she had only four sips! What was happening to these people? And at school, when I reached my classroom, I saw Mrs. Pellington, and she had a really secret smile inside her face. I’m very smart about secret, inside-face smiles. She clapped her hands together to get our attention, and we clapped back to tell her we were attentioned.
“Elliott, face forward. Frannie, put your briefcase away. Millicent, put your book down,” Mrs. Pellington said. Millicent was always reading. She hid books on her lap, and sometimes she hid her books inside other books. I’ve even seen her walk into walls. That’s how much Millicent loves to read.
“You are not going to want to miss this,” Mrs. Pellington said, clapping her hands right off her arms.
Every year our school has a bake sale to raise money for itself. It’s a really fun day, and next to our school fair, it’s the one day I look forward to the most. So when Mrs. Pellington started out her special announcement by saying, “As you all know, in one week we are supposed to have our annual bake sale,” I was very excitified. But when she added, “However, it has come to my attention that this year it will not be taking place,” my ears were so shocktified that tears almost spilled out of them. This was the worst news in the history of forever. It was the opposite of exciting. It was tragical is what it was, and that is not an opinion.
But then she continued, “Instead, this year we’re going to do something entirely different, but no less wonderful. Children ... ,” she said, getting very quiet so that things got suspensiful, “we’re going to put on a fashion show!”
That is when everyone in my class went into an uproar, and Mrs. Pellington was so happy, she didn’t even clap at our faces for quiet.
“It will be a mother-daughter fashion show with special backstage jobs for the boys,” she said, which was the exact sentence that almost made my head fall off. It is a scientific fact that I have always wanted to be in a fashion show with my mother, even if it was something I had never known I’d wanted until just that second.
Mrs. Pellington explained that the fashions we’d be wearing were made by local designers and that all the clothes we modeled would be for sale. Everyone would be wearing a different designer. They hoped to match the right outfit with the right girl.
I loved the idea of wearing something that matched me. I try to do it every single day. When I have to be professional and carry my résumé and business cards, I wear something that matches me at the office. (If you don’t already know this about me, I am very interested in jobs.) Other times, I pick out regular clothes that suit me really perfectly. I love clothes that you can be run-aroundy in. I am not so interested in bows and things that are very shiny. And I do not like pink!
I wondered if there was a designer in town who made business suits. If there was, then she could make me a very professional suit, just like the one my dad wears every day. I would even like a tie to go with it. If I could have a business suit in just my size, I would be the happiest person that ever existed. I looked over at my best friend, Elliott, who could read all of my brain notes, and he gave me the biggest, worldwide smile of ever.
“There will be an audition,” Mrs. Pellington explained. That sentence made my stomach hurt because maybe the dream I’d had of being in a fashion show with my mother wasn’t going to come true.
“Everyone will get the chance to walk down the runway in front of the designers. But not everyone will get picked for the show,” Mrs. Pellington continued.
“What about the people who don’t want to be in the fashion show?” Elizabeth Sanders asked.
Everyone turned to look at her.
Elizabeth Sanders didn’t want to be in a fashion show? That did not seem right. Even Mrs. Pellington agreed because she asked, “You don’t want to be in the fashion show, Elizabeth?”
“Well, I do, but my mother said she wouldn’t be here for the bake sale. And if the fashion show is instead of the bake sale, then my mom won’t be here!” She sounded very upsettish.
“Perhaps you can help with hair and makeup,” Mrs. Pellington offered. Elizabeth’s eyes almost flew out of her head, that’s h
ow excitified she was at this sentence. I wasn’t so interested in hair and makeup, so I didn’t feel worried about not getting a job like that.
“I would love that job, Mrs. Pellington. Thank you very much.”
“What are the backstage jobs for boys?” Elliott said, looking a little worried.
Mrs. Pellington said with a big smile on her face, “The boys are going to help the designers backstage. You are going to be assistant fashion designers.”
“Fashion designers?!” Henry called out. “That’s for girls!”
“That’s not what Zac Posen, Marc Jacobs, or Michael Kors would say,” Mrs. P. told Henry.
“Who are they?” he wanted to know.
“Some of the world’s most famous male fashion designers,” she told him.
“Oh,” said Henry, looking impresstified. Some of the boys still looked a little confusified, even Elliott. Since Elliott and I are best friends and can read each other’s brain notes, I knew that he wasn’t exactly perfectly sure what a fashion designer even did. Neither did I, as a matter of fact. We only knew it was a very important job because Mrs. P. said, “It’s a very important job.”
After her announcement, she said we were going to move on to math, but anyone interested in being in the fashion show should discuss it with their mothers and stay after school tomorrow for the audition. Even though I’d never had one before, I knew that I loved auditions. They were something that grown-ups did, so they were very official and important. I couldn’t wait.
I was going to bring my briefcase.
I did not love math, however and nevertheless, which is why I had a hard time listening. I watched myself inside my brain being the most Workerish kind of fashion model in the entire world of America. I was going to be the only model alive who carried a briefcase!
CHAPTER 2
When I got home from school that day, my legs ran all around the house looking for my mother. When I finally found her cleaning all the cobwebs out from the corners in the basement, I was so out of breath I could barely make a sentence without gasping my head off.
I told her all about the fashion show, the local designers, how Elizabeth was helping with hair and makeup, and how the boys were going to be fashion designers. Right before the best part, which I was saving for last because it’s a scientific fact that’s what you do with the best parts, my heart got very thumpish. What if my mother didn’t even want to be in a fashion show?
“I can’t believe my daughter is going to be a model!” my mother said. “I’m so proud.”
“Do you want to be a model, too?” I asked, sending her a brain note from my eyeballs that told her to say, “Yes, yes I do!!!” When my mother’s own eyeballs got wide, I knew my message had reached her. And when I saw very small smiles on top of her eyeballs, I knew she’d ask to audition right now. She might even make them open the school back up for her tonight, that’s how badly she wanted to audition! I’m very smart about eyeball smiles and auditions.
“Me?” she asked with a hand over her mouth.
“It’s a mother-daughter fashion show! Isn’t that exciting?” I cried. My mother stood up and wiped the basement dirt off her hands and onto her beat-up pair of corduroys.
“I’ve never come out of a department store dressing room, much less walked down a runway.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I told her, which is a for instance of an expression I took from my dad.
“I guess there is,” she said. “But I don’t know, Frannie. I’m not wild about the idea.”
That is when my heart fell out of its pocket and dropped to the floor and broke into a hundredy disappointment pieces.
“It’s not a for sure thing yet,” I told her. “There’s an audition.”
That’s when she groaned. “An audition? Oh, Frannie—I don’t think so.”
“Please, Mom! It will be so much fun. Don’t you want to work with me? I’ve always wanted to work with you. It’s been my entire lifelong dream since this morning. We could be coworkers! Haven’t you always wanted to do that?”
That’s when her face grew my favorite type of smile ever, and she said, “Yes, Frannie. In fact, that would be a dream come true for me, too.”
“So you’ll do it? You’ll audition?”
“I’ll audition,” she said.
Then I jumped up and down, and all my happiness boggled around inside.
“You know that fashion models have to walk a certain way down the runway, don’t you?” she asked me. My mom knew how Workerish I was, so that is why she asked me whether I knew. It’s a scientific fact that I’ve had so many jobs, she’s probably lost count. Which meant she didn’t even remember if I’d been a fashion model before or not. If I had, then I’d have known what exactly she was talking about, actually.
I shook my head no. I was very impresstified that my mother was an expert on modeling.
“It’s true. They put one foot directly in front of the other and walk, leading with their hips,” she explained, demonstrating by walking Weirdier than anyone I’ve ever seen in my worldwide life.
“Now you try,” she told me. I put one foot right in front of the other.
“Now jut your hips out,” she said. I jutted my hips out.
“Now throw your shoulders back and lift your chin up.”
There were so many instructions, I didn’t know how anyone remembered to do all these things at the same time! If my chin was lifted, how could I see where I was going? It was much harder to do than it sounds.
That is why we practiced. Practicing is good because it means you’ll get better at something. I love to practice things oftenly so that I can get really good and then go get a job doing those things.
Since we were in the basement, my mom decided it might be fun to open an old box of her clothes from the olden age and wear them as our model outfits.
She found a really good box and opened it, and you will not even believe your ears about the clothes she pulled out. She had corduroy skirts, moccasins, braided belts, overalls, painter’s pants, crinkled-up jumpsuits, cowboy boots, puffer vests, denim vests, leather vests, something called a peasant shirt that had puffy sleeves, plaid shirts, and a mood ring! Rainbow suspenders, satin jackets, lots of T-shirts with iron-on decals on them, crazy pants that flared out at the bottom, and shirts that were flowish and flowery. She had lots of things called ponchos, which is a for instance of a type of cape that was for fashion and not for superheroes.
I put on the pants with the flares, and tied the braided belt tight so the pants wouldn’t fall off. Then I put on a T-shirt with a decal of something that said SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER. I piled a bunch of rope bracelets onto my wrists, slung a jean purse over my shoulder, and slipped on a pair of shoes with heels made out of corkboards!
When I tried to walk, I couldn’t because I don’t know how to walk in shoes that are too big and too high. I took them off and did the walk barefoot. I guess I was already an expert because my mom clapped her hands and cried, “Bravo!”
Then she took a turn, and we were having so much fun, we decided to go upstairs where there was much more space. We walked back and forth down our long hall, making each other laugh with made-up walks. One time my mom skipped. Another time she crawled. One time I walked on my tiptoes, and another time I walked backward. We were laughing so hard that we fell to the ground, and that is when my dad came home.
“Who are you, and what did you do with my wife and daughter?” he asked us both.
“Daddy, it’s us!” I said, jumping up. “We’re wearing Mom’s old clothes, and we’re modeling!”
“Modeling! Wow. I didn’t know you were interested in modeling, Frannie,” my dad told me, putting down his briefcase and taking off his business jacket.
“Well, I wasn’t. Not until today, at least. My school is putting on a fashion show for mothers and daughters,” I told him. “You have to audition, though. So it’s not a scientific fact yet that we’ll be models.”
My dad lo
oked very impresstified by everything I’d just said.
“This is the most exciting thing to happen all day,” my dad said.
“Isn’t it?” my mom said. “Frannie and I might get to work together.”
“Well, now I’m jealous,” he said, and that is when my whole face blushed right up. I never knew my dad wanted to work with me! That filled me up with so much pride-itity.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I bet there will be a father-daughter fashion show one day, and we could do that together.”
My mom and dad laughed, but I don’t know why. They were probably just really happy that they were going to have jobs with their daughter. Maybe it was their dream since this morning, too.
“Perhaps, Frannie. Either way, I feel very lucky living with two of the most beautiful girls in Chester, New York,” my dad told us.
My mother and I looked at each other and smiled. We were very proud of ourselves, even if we weren’t quite sure why.
CHAPTER 3
On audition day, I woke up with moths and butterflies in my stomach. I could not believe the nerves surfboarding around inside me! Even my mother was nervous. She told me so at breakfast.
“Even if you don’t make it,” my dad told us, “you two will always be models in my eyes.”
That gave us both big smiles, and my mom mussed his hair up and kissed him. “Oh, Dan. You big flatterer, you.”
Although I didn’t know exactly what that meant, I smiled at him because I knew it was nice.
Once I got to school, my smile muscles weren’t working so well. All the moths and butterflies were making me very nervous. Instead of being concentratey on school like I was supposed to be, I was just concentratey on the audition like I was not supposed to be. I don’t have enough fingers to count the times Mrs. P. clapped in my direction because I wasn’t paying attention.