Model Madness Read online

  Also by Sheryl Berk and Carrie Berk

  The Cupcake Club Series

  The Cupcake Club

  Recipe for Trouble

  Winner Bakes All

  Icing on the Cake

  Baby Cakes

  Royal Icing

  Sugar and Spice

  Sweet Victory

  Bakers on Board

  Vote for Cupcakes!

  Fashion Academy Series

  Fashion Academy

  Runway Ready

  Designer Drama

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  Copyright © 2017 by Sheryl Berk and Carrie Berk

  Cover and internal design © 2017 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover illustration © Helen Huang

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

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  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1. Fashion Fairy Tales

  2. School Daze

  3. The Doctor Is In

  4. Pop Star

  5. Gigi’s Bestie

  6. Going Up

  7. Party Crashers

  8. All O-Kaye

  9. A Pretty Predicament

  10. Granny Gertie

  11. Model Meeting

  12. Not So Black and White

  13. Fit and Fabulous

  14. The Big Reveal

  Carrie’s Style File

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Back Cover

  To Gaga: we love you oodles and always.

  Mickey Williams flipped through the May issue of Vogue, mesmerized. How could every single page be so incredibly breathtaking? Gowns and jackets and ankle boots…oh my! She loved the feel of turning each glossy page and the smell of the perfume ads. She unfolded one called “Destiny” and inhaled deeply. It smelled like fresh roses with a hint of vanilla.

  Her aunt Olive was seated next to her on the couch and wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?” She looked up from her New York Times crossword puzzle and sniffed the air.

  “Destiny,” Mickey sighed.

  “Smells more like my granny’s attic,” Olive insisted. “That powdery-sweet smell—mixed with mothballs.”

  Mickey rubbed the flap on her wrists. “I like it. It reminds me of Wanamaker’s department store where Mom works.” She looked at the time on her phone: 9:53 a.m. Her mother, Jordana, would be there right now, prepping the makeup counter, cleaning her brushes, and aligning her powders and shadows for the ten o’clock store opening. Her mom worked harder than anyone Mickey knew—seven days a week—and she understood why: “So my Mickey Mouse can have everything she needs to be a famous fashion designer one day.”

  Mickey could hear her mom’s voice in her head, reminding her how important it was for her to do well at the Fashion Academy of Brooklyn, a.k.a. FAB. Jordana hadn’t been all that eager to let Mickey leave her home in Philly to live with Olive in New York City. But in Mickey’s mind, the decision had already been made. There was no other place she wanted to be.

  Up until then, no one in her elementary school had really “gotten” her. They made fun of her handmade clothes and how she loved to stripe her hair with colored chalk and mismatch prints and patterns. Her out-of-the-box design aesthetic had secured her a full scholarship to FAB—and there was no way she was going to turn it down.

  “Mom, please, pretty please with sequins on top?” Mickey had begged her.

  At first, her mother had stubbornly refused. The city was a big, scary place, and Olive, her twin sister, had no experience raising a kid. But in the end, Mickey had convinced her mom that she would follow her aunt’s rules, study hard, and make her proud—plus come home for holidays and as many weekends as possible.

  “Fine.” Jordana had relented. “I guess I can’t stand in the way of your dreams.”

  That conversation seemed like ages ago, but it had been less than a year since Mickey had started at her new middle school. She’d made friends and frenemies, challenged herself with all kinds of crazy design projects, and even gone to Paris to compete against fellow student designers from around the world.

  FAB was everything she’d imagined it would be and more—but on days like this, she missed her mom’s chocolate-chip pancakes for breakfast and how the two of them would snuggle in bed and read the Style section of the Sunday New York Times together. She missed the way they had always been a team, sharing their lives and their secrets.

  Olive was great, and she could whip up an awesome tofu scramble for breakfast. But Mickey’s mom was the one person—the only person—who knew her soul. Mickey remembered how, when she was five years old, Jordana would bring her home tiny vials of perfume samples from Wanamaker’s. She pretended they were magic potions—one for love, one for beauty, one for wisdom.

  “And this,” her mom announced, “is a wizard’s potion that grants you a magical wish!”

  Mickey had clapped her hands together with glee. “Put it on me!” Her mom obeyed, dabbing a tiny bit of the scent behind Mickey’s ear.

  “And what do you wish for?” she asked.

  The answer was easy: “Can we read Vogue?” Mickey pleaded.

  Together, they would scan the pages, pausing every so often to ooh and aah over an outfit or accessory. Most little girls requested fairy tales for bedtime stories. But not Mickey.

  “More, Mommy, more!” she pleaded. “Read me more about the fall collections.”

  At times, Jordana could barely keep her eyes open. She had waited on customers for eight hours, then had to tidy up the mess they left behind: product testers, cotton balls, and swabs.

  “Mom.” Mickey poked her if she started to dose off. “Read it to me. Again!”

  “‘Channel your inner animal with these jungle-inspired prints for fall.’” Her mom tried to stifle a yawn as she repeated the headline.

  “Does that say leopard?” Mickey asked, pointing to a word on the page. She was barely in kindergarten, but she could already figure out most of what the articles said.

  Her mother perched her reading glasses on the tip of her nose. “It says it’s a jaguar-print midi dress by Givenchy.” She read the caption on the photo carefully.

  “Oh! Not leopard, jaguar,” Mickey repeated after her. “It’s beautiful.”

  “That it is,” her mom said, planting a kiss on Mickey’s forehead
. “And it’s also late and past your bedtime, Mackenzie Williams.”

  “Aw, Mom!” Mickey whined. “Just one more page? The one with the Versace zebra scarf on it?”

  Jordana flipped to the next page. “Seriously, Mickey Mouse? You’ve memorized the entire issue already? It came two days ago!”

  Mickey shrugged. The rest of her classmates were just learning their ABC’s and reading Dr. Seuss. “I can’t help it. It’s just so good!”

  • • •

  Olive waved a newspaper section in Mickey’s face. “You want this?” she asked, giving the cover of the Style section a quick glance. “Something about a girl named Gigi looking pretty in pink.”

  Mickey grabbed the paper from her aunt and shook away the old memories. “Oh, it’s Gigi Harlowe, the supermodel,” she said. “She has such personal style!”

  She held up the cover and showed her aunt a photo of the young woman dressed in a hot-pink strapless gingham dress, mile-high stiletto heels, and a wide-brimmed straw hat. She was carrying a Swarovski crystal–encrusted purse in the shape of a pig.

  “What’s with the little piggy purse?” Olive chuckled. “‘This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home…’”

  “It’s fabulous—bold, whimsical, one of a kind,” Mickey insisted. “Everyone is going to want one. It’s the new It bag.”

  “What’s an It bag?” Olive asked.

  “It’s my Apparel Arts homework assignment,” Mickey said, sighing. “Mr. Kaye insists we come up with a new It bag design for spring.”

  Olive shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  Mickey flipped to a photo in Vogue of Gigi strutting around SoHo with a royal-blue leather bag on her arm.

  “See this? It’s called the Sac de Jour by YSL.” Mickey showed her aunt. “I have to come up with something equally ‘impactful, innovative, and awe inspiring,’” she explained, quoting her teacher’s instructions. Mickey knew that Mr. Kaye meant business. Anyone failing to wow him with their homework sketch might also wind up failing his Apparel Arts class for the semester.

  “Not an easy task,” Olive replied. “That’s even harder than nine down: a five-letter word for trend ending with an e.”

  Mickey shrugged. “Craze?”

  “Yes! That’s it!” Olive cheered. “You’re good at crosswords, Mackenzie!”

  “Not really.” Mickey blushed. “I’m good at fashion—but this assignment really has me stumped.”

  Olive put down her newspaper. “What can I do to help?”

  Mickey sighed. “Unless you have a whole collection of vintage It bags hiding in your closet to inspire me, I don’t think you can.”

  “Well, I have a whole collection of reusable bags for carrying my organic groceries,” Olive offered. “They’re in the cabinet under the sink.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Olive,” Mickey said politely, “but Mr. Kaye is expecting a little more than a shopping bag. I have to come up with something It…or else.”

  The next morning, Mickey dragged her feet into first-period Apparel Arts. She didn’t feel like herself at all—even the outfit she’d put together felt uninspired. She’d chosen a simple pink tee, a jean vest, and navy leggings, and hadn’t even bothered to mismatch her pink combat boots. It was so unlike her! The rest of her classmates were eager to show Mr. Kaye their ideas for the new spring It bag. But she wasn’t feeling so enthusiastic.

  “My purse is so cool,” Mars said as Mickey took the seat next to her. Mars—like her name suggested—was a bit out there, but she was a brilliant jewelry designer. No one was as talented at working with gemstones and metals.

  “Wanna see?” she asked Mickey, whipping open her sketchbook. “I call it the Iron Woman. See? It’s a hobo constructed from woven chain links.”

  “Nice try.” South, another of their classmates, pushed between them and pulled out her drawing. “I’m making a backpack with a built-in speaker so I can always play my tunes. Mine rocks…literally.”

  Mickey saw Mars’s face fall. “Yours is good too,” Mickey whispered, trying to be complimentary. “It’s very knight in shining armor.”

  Mars looked annoyed. “No, it’s not. That’s not what I was going for at all.”

  “Oh.” Mickey tried to apologize. “I’m sorry. It’s how I saw it.”

  “Well, you saw it wrong,” Mars said, snatching her sketchbook away.

  “Take it easy, Mars,” Gabriel insisted. “Fashion is always open to personal interpretation. What does Mr. Kaye say? ‘Every I has an eye’?” After repeating Apparel Arts for the second year in the row, Gabriel could quote all of Mr. Kaye’s lectures. But he had a tough time applying those principles to his work. Somehow, things got lost in translation.

  “So what did you sketch?” Mars asked him.

  “Glad you asked!” Gabriel replied. He opened his book to a drawing of a graphic tote bag. On one side was a large letter I in white leather on a black suede background. On the other side was a large letter T.

  “Get it? It’s an It bag,” he said, chuckling. “I know it’s literal, but it’s also really funny.”

  Mars smirked. “I hope Mr. Kaye has a sense of humor.”

  Gabriel’s face went white. “OMG, he doesn’t, does he?” He tore the page out of his pad. “I better start over!”

  Jade Lee strolled into the classroom with her twin brother, Jake, trailing behind her. Mickey couldn’t help but notice the tiara-like rhinestone headband Jade had chosen for herself this morning. In FAB, Jade was clearly the queen bee, but only because her mother was Hollywood fashion royalty—the designer most stars wanted to wear on the red carpet.

  Jade loved to brag about rubbing elbows with celebs. Her Instagram was filled with photos of her with Kylie Jenner, Justin Bieber, and Selena Gomez. But despite all her bravado, Jade felt threatened by Mickey. Time and time again she tried to prove she was the better designer—which meant putting Mickey down and trying her best to sabotage her work.

  “This assignment was so easy,” Jade boasted to her classmates. “I mean, I own every It bag in existence. I’m an expert.”

  “So what did you design?” Mars asked her anxiously. “And remember, Mr. Kaye said you can’t go over twenty dollars on materials.”

  “Duh!” Jade replied. “I don’t need to. I’m planning on recycling.”

  “She means she plans on using some of the luxe fabric her mom has at her factory,” Gabriel whispered to Mickey. “So not fair!”

  Jade pulled out a sketch of a honeycomb-quilted gold bag studded with tiny gold rivets. “I call it the Queen Bee.”

  Mars laughed out loud. “Well, that’s predictable.”

  “It is not,” Jade fired back. “It’s entirely original. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Mickey hated to agree with Jade, but she was right. She’d never seen anything like it in all her years of reading Vogue and the Style section.

  She glanced at the clock—it was 9:05. Where was Mr. Kaye? It wasn’t like him to be late.

  “So while we’re waiting for our tardy teacher”—Jade read her mind—“what did you draw, Mickey?”

  Mickey sank a little lower in her seat. “Me? I’d prefer not to share.”

  “Why?” Jade asked, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve all shown each other our designs.”

  Jake’s hand shot up. “Not me. I haven’t.”

  “Oh, who cares?” Jade barked at her brother.

  “I do,” Mickey replied, trying to shift the attention off herself. “Let’s see what ya got, Jake.”

  Jake smiled and proudly displayed his sketch. It was a silver crescent-shaped bag. He held up a swatch of crinkly metallic fabric. “It’s vegan leather,” he explained. “It’s my (Wo)Man in the Moon bag—and I think either a guy or a girl could carry it.”

  Jade rolled her eyes. “Where? To the gym? That’s s
o not high fashion. Fake leather? Pullease!” She turned back to Mickey. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Before Mickey could protest again, Mr. Kaye dashed into the studio. “Dreadful traffic. Impossible!” he muttered under his breath. “A photo shoot with some supermodel was blocking the Brooklyn Bridge.”

  “Supermodel?” Gabriel’s eyes lit up. “What supermodel? And is she still there? ’Cause I could go check for you…”

  “Cece or Mimi or Fifi.” Mr. Kaye tried to recall. “I follow fashion—not the models who wear it.”

  “Gigi?” South piped up. “Gigi Harlowe?”

  “Yes, yes,” Mr. Kaye said dismissively. “Gigi. That was her name. They closed the entire bridge for her. I had to actually get out of my cab and walk!”

  “Not to worry.” Jade smiled sweetly. “We were all discussing our homework assignments. Mickey wants to show you hers first.”

  Mickey gulped. Jade was relentless!

  “Fine,” Mr. Kaye said, taking a seat on the corner of his desk and mopping his brow with a hankie. “Mickey, please present your design.”

  Mickey opened her sketchbook to a blank page. “Um, I didn’t get that far…” she began.

  Mr. Kaye’s eyes grew wide. “You didn’t get anywhere! Mackenzie, I’m shocked and disappointed.” He took out his grading sheet. “That’s an incomplete on your homework.”

  “I’m sorry!” Mickey tried her best to explain. “I spent all weekend on it, but I had designer’s block. I couldn’t come up with anything that felt right.”

  Mr. Kaye held up his hand. “No excuses. A designer must learn to break the block and tap into her own originality and creativity.”

  For the rest of the class, Mickey barely heard a word Mr. Kaye or any of the students said. She was too mortified: an incomplete! What would she tell her mom? When the bell rang, she wandered down the hallway and didn’t even notice her best friend, JC, standing at her locker waiting for her.

  “Helloooo?” he said, snapping his fingers to get her attention. “Earth to Mickey! Anyone home?”

  “I got my first incomplete in Kaye’s class,” Mickey blurted out. “A big, fat incomplete!”