“Get this. Apparently she’s going to a teen yoga class with Ivana tomorrow.” Emma waited for the humor to sink in.
Charlie snorted. “You’re lying!”
“Am not. Swear to Chanel. I couldn’t believe it when she told me either. She never exercises except by force in gym class.”
Emma tilted her head and considered the arrangement of patches. That works, she decided. She reached for her sewing kit, took out some black embroidery thread, and started threading a needle.
“But the weird thing was that when I made a teeny, tiny joke about it, she got all defensive. She said I was making fun of her. What’s that about? How could she not see that her suddenly going to a yoga class is at least kind of funny? She never used to be that hyper-sensitive.”
“I know what you mean,” Charlie agreed. “I think I’ve seen and spoken to her even less than you have—and I don’t have an after-school job. And when I do see her, it’s like she forgot how to talk.”
Emma finished sewing on the first patch. She held it up to see how it looked. It’s pretty good, she thought, but I should make the sewing rawer, not so neat and even. She re-threaded the needle and picked up another patch.
“I should probably try harder to like Ivana for Holly’s sake, but I just…can’t. The thing is that I don’t want to not be friends with Holly either. I miss her. But these days, I kind of miss her even when she’s sitting right next to me.”
Charlie shook his head slowly. “You girls are so complicated.”
“Tell me about it.”
Her dad popped his head in the door. “Cookie, I’m home. I’m going to start dinner soon. Can you set the table?”
“Isn’t it Will’s turn?” Emma asked. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“Nope. He did it last night.” Her dad walked into the room and picked up a black INXS T-shirt. “Wow, this sure brings me back.”
“It does? To what?” Emma asked. “You know these bands?”
“Anyone home?” her mother called from the hallway.
“In Emma’s room!” her dad answered.
“Hi, everyone.” Her mom slumped in the doorway, rumpled and tired from her day. Emma took one look at her mom and decided to make her a new tote with her gel pens…anything to liven up that drab wardrobe!
“Taking a break from studying for the Western civ exam?” her mom asked Emma.
Emma gritted her teeth. Her mom never let up.
“It’s Friday, Mom.”
Her dad grabbed an R.E.M. shirt off the floor.
“Joanie, look at this! Remember this concert?”
Her mom took the shirt out of his hands. A smile transformed her face.
“Yes! Wow, I haven’t thought about that night in years.”
“What happened?” Emma asked.
“Oh, nothing,” her dad said slyly. “Just that your mother sweet-talked our way into a sold-out R.E.M. concert. She faked a Southern accent and pretended she was the lead singer’s slightly demented sister.”
“Noah!” Joan batted his arm playfully and blushed.
“No way!” Emma exclaimed. She couldn’t match up the clog-wearing, schoolteacher mom in front of her with a girl sneaking into a concert with her boyfriend.
“And then she got us invited to the after-party,” Emma’s father added with a wide grin. “By the end of the night, I think Michael Stipe thought you really were his sister!”
Her mother laughed. “I forgot about that part. He was adorable, that’s for sure. I don’t think I ever got over that crush, even after he shaved his hair off. That was a wild night.”
“One of the best,” her dad agreed.
Emma knitted her eyebrows together and watched these new alien parents beam at each other, reliving their happy moment. She couldn’t believe her mom had partied with the band all night. Emma could kind of see her dad doing that. He was way more relaxed than her mom. He liked to joke around and play harmless practical jokes on people.
But her mom was so serious all the time—so all about academics. What other wild things had her mom done? And why had she stopped doing them?
“You can have the shirt if you want,” Emma offered. Her mom smiled. “No, thanks. You keep it. It’s not really my style, and it doesn’t look like it would fit me anyway. I’m going to go change and help your dad with dinner.”
Her parents shared a private laugh as they left the room. Emma loved that a random piece of clothing could transport her parents to another place and time. A very different place and time…
Chapter 6
The Woman Behind The Dress
Monday was almost over, and Emma still hadn’t heard a peep out of Paige.
She must’ve gotten the dress by now, Emma thought as she walked to her locker after her last class. Or maybe not. Maybe she spent the day out of the office at another photo shoot or visiting a designer’s showroom. Maybe she’s at home with the flu. Or maybe she hates it. Maybe the other editors are gathered around her right now, mocking her for featuring the dress on her blog.
Emma tried to delete that recurring thought.
There could be a million good reasons why Paige hasn’t called yet, Emma decided. She opened her locker, grabbed her messenger bag, and pulled out her phone.
There was a text message. From Paige.
Pleasebegood, pleasebegood, pleasebegood, Emma wished. She flipped open the phone.
Thx so much 4 the dress! I ADORE it. I’d love 2 speak with u ASAP. I wld like 2 interview u 4 Madison magazine. Pls let me know when is convenient. Paige Young
Emma tried to steady herself as kids streamed around her in the hallway, completely unaware of how the earth was shifting under her feet at this very moment. Paige liked the dress. No, she adored it. That meant that she would wear it. And now Madison magazine wants to interview me? I mean, Allegra?
Emma caught sight of Charlie’s white-blond hair down the hallway.
“Charlie!” Emma shouted. “Char-lie!”
But no matter how loudly she called his name over the sounds of slamming lockers and chattering students who were finally free for the day, he didn’t turn around. She was too far away for him to hear her. She jogged down the hallway, bobbing and weaving, running an obstacle course to get to him as six strands of vintage art-glass beads banged against her chest.
“Whoa! What the…? Em, what’s up? You practically knocked me over,” Charlie said.
“You’ve. Got. To. See. This.” Emma directed him over to the wall of the front foyer and shoved her phone in his hand.
“Are you kidding me with this?” Charlie exclaimed. “This is awesome!”
“Yeah,” Emma said, beaming. “Except…”
“Except what?”
“I don’t know.” Emma wrinkled her nose. “I guess I never thought about what would happen after. I mean, I just thought Paige would get the dress, hopefully be happy, say thank you, and that’d be it. But an interview? I don’t know about that.”
“Are you crazy? An interview is good.”
Emma wasn’t sure it was good. “But I’m not an Italian fashion designer. I’m me. In middle school. I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I should just fess up, you know, before this goes any further.”
“Whaaat? No. No way, Em. Not now. Her asking to interview Allegra is a good thing. Telling her that Allegra doesn’t exist and that we were tricking her would be a bad thing.”
“I don’t know. I feel weird pretending Allegra is a real person.” Emma’s lunch started doing ballroom-dancing moves in her stomach. She leaned against the wall.
“Allegra is a real person! She’s you. You designed those dresses. So we’re not really tricking Paige at all. Isn’t this what you want? To be a fashion designer—a real one?”