Designer Drama Read online

  “What does it say?” JC asked. “Spill it!”

  “It says ‘Fashion Hero,’” Mickey replied, puzzled. “That’s it. Just two words.”

  “What does that even mean?” JC asked.

  “It’s entirely up to your interpretation,” Mr. Kaye said. “A very FIFI assignment, as I anticipated. I suggest you two go sit in the FIFI yard and figure out what you want to make.” He glanced at his watch. “The fabric stores open in an hour, and you have one hundred dollars to spend.”

  Mickey’s eyes lit up. “One hundred dollars? Wow! We can really make something amazing with that much money.”

  JC dragged her to the front door. “Come on, come on. Time’s a-tickin’!”

  They found a quiet bench and began to brainstorm.

  “I’m seeing a superhero design—maybe a cape, a mask. Ooh! Red spandex leggings?” Mickey said. She pulled out her sketchbook and a red colored pencil.

  JC made a face. “Ew, that’s cheesy. I think we should do a Madonna early-eighties ensemble.”

  “Madonna?” Mickey exclaimed. “Where do you get Madonna from?”

  “Well, if there’s one true fashion hero on this planet, it’s her,” JC said. “Can’t you just see it: black lace leggings and combat boots! A tulle skirt and a leather bustier!”

  Now it was Mickey’s turn to make a face. “That’s just so retro. I hate it.”

  “Well, I hate your idea,” JC snapped back. “So we’re even.”

  They continued arguing for another thirty minutes. “What about a spiderweb skirt—ooh! With a batwing blouse!”

  JC groaned. “What is she supposed to be? A confused superhero?”

  “I suppose you have a better idea?” Mickey asked.

  “Totally! Let’s do a meat dress à la Lady Gaga—with a red lace hat over her eyes. Wait! We’re in Paris, so let’s make it an escargot dress!”

  “Stop!” Mickey said, shaking her head. “No pop star, no snails.”

  “Fine—no more Spider-Man and Batman looks,” JC shot back. “Next thing you know, you’re going to make our model look like the Incredible Hulk.”

  Mickey held up a green colored pencil. “Now you’re talkin’!”

  JC grabbed the pencil out of her hand. “No way. Don’t even think about it!”

  Mr. Kaye came outside to find them.

  “So, what have you come up with?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” JC huffed. “She doesn’t like any of my ideas.”

  “And he thinks my ideas are cheesy!”

  Mr. Kaye looked confounded. “Are you telling me you can’t agree on a single design?”

  Mickey and JC shook their heads in unison. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Well,” their teacher said, “this is a less-than-ideal situation.”

  “Are you kidding?” JC shouted. “It’s a disaster. Mickey wants to walk Supergirl down the runway!”

  “I said Style Girl, not Supergirl,” she interrupted.

  “Same thing,” JC insisted. “With a big gold S on her shirt. It’s just too tacky. I can’t. I really can’t.”

  “Then don’t!” Mickey suddenly shouted. “I don’t need your help if that’s how you feel. I’ll make it myself.”

  “Fine!” JC fired back.

  “Fine!” Mickey said.

  “This is not fine—not by any means,” Mr. Kaye said, rubbing his temples. “You’re supposed to be a team, and a team works together. If Mickey does this alone…”

  “I’ll win,” she jumped in. “It’s a great idea, Mr. Kaye, and I believe in it.”

  Mr. Kaye raised an eyebrow. “All right then, if you feel that strongly.”

  JC was fuming. He hadn’t come all the way to Paris not to work on a design for the competition. He was one half of the team. But Mickey was being so stubborn…

  “My cousin Angelique and I will enjoy a lovely day shopping while you slave over your design,” he said. “Have a good time.”

  Mickey saw that he was hurt, but what choice did she have? There was no way she was going to send a Madonna costume down the runway. And JC just wouldn’t give in. Sometimes he could be so bossy!

  “I will have a great time—without you,” she said. The words hung between them in the air, and she knew she didn’t really mean them. But it was too late to take them back.

  Mickey was still furious at JC when she and her mom left to find the fabric store Mr. Kaye had suggested. It was down a long street marked “Rue des Petits-Champs.”

  “It’s so confusing,” Mickey said, trying to read a city map. “All these streets sound alike—or should I say all these ‘rues’? It’s all ‘rue this’ and ‘rue that.’”

  Her mom chuckled. “Well. I’m sure tourists get very lost in New York City wandering around the Fashion District and Times Square,” she said. “It’s just as confusing for them.”

  “I think it’s down there.” Mickey pointed to a large, white building with a huge sign that read “Maison Tissu.”

  “It’s either fabric—or a store dedicated to Kleenex!” her mom joked. They walked in the shop, and Mickey’s jaw dropped. She had never seen so many bolts of fabric! The store was nearly a block long and three stories high.

  “This place makes Plush look small,” Mickey said. “How am I supposed to find anything?” She studied all the signs on the walls indicating the departments. “What do you suppose laine fine is?” she asked her mom.

  “Beats me,” her mother replied. “I thought JC was coming along to help.”

  Mickey sighed. If JC was here, he would have known where to find the red satin she needed. He would have had a ton of ideas too—like what gold braiding to use on the shoulders of the cape and what wool crepe would work best for the royal-blue skirt. “JC and I…we kinda decided to go our separate ways on this design.”

  Her mom looked concerned. “What? You and JC are a great team. What happened?”

  Mickey shrugged and kept browsing the aisles. “Nothing. We just couldn’t see eye to eye.”

  “So that’s it? Adios to your best friend at FAB because you don’t agree?”

  “It’s ‘au revoir’ in French,” Mickey corrected her. “And I didn’t say good-bye—he did.”

  “How many times have we not agreed, Mickey? It’s not a reason to give up on a relationship.”

  Mickey knew her mother was right, but JC had made it sound so final: “I’m outta here!” She could almost hear him saying it.

  “Où est le cachemire?” said a voice. Funny, Mickey thought, it sounded just like JC! “I need something pink and pretty—pour mon chien, Madonna.”

  Mickey spun around—it was JC!

  “You!” she exclaimed.

  “Moi,” JC replied. “Guess Mr. Kaye sent us to the same fabric store.”

  “Well, I don’t need your help,” Mickey said.

  “I wasn’t offering it,” JC replied. “I was just here with my cousin shopping for some new fabric for Madonna’s Paris wardrobe.”

  “Oh,” Mickey said. She’d secretly hoped he was there for her.

  “Unless,” JC said, “you need my help?”

  Mickey’s mom smiled. “Why don’t I leave you two to talk.”

  Mickey stared down at her pink patent combat boots. “Maybe the escargot dress wasn’t all that awful,” she began.

  “Awful? It’s genius,” JC replied.

  “I wouldn’t say that…” Mickey piped up. “But it wasn’t as bad as I made it sound. Maybe I should have been a little more open to your ideas and not just shot them down. JC, I’m—”

  “Sorry,” he interrupted. “I’m the one who’s really sorry, Mick. I shouldn’t have called your idea tacky. At least not till I saw it…”

  “Hey,” Mickey said, laughing. “It won’t be tacky—I promise. Not if we work on it together.” She took a deep breat
h. “Will you? Because I can’t win this competition without you.”

  “Of course you can’t,” JC teased. “Je suis fabuleuse!”

  Mickey scratched her head. “I’m not sure what you just said, but if it means you’re the best, than I agree. Teammates?” She held out her hand for JC to shake.

  “Teammates!” he replied, taking it. “And more importantly, amis pour la vie—friends forever.”

  With JC by her side, Mickey finished the fourth and final design for her collection in just a few days. The FIFI design studios were huge and had everything a designer could want: hundreds of threads, needles, and top-of-the-line sewing machines.

  “The train on the cape makes all the difference,” Mickey told him.

  “Told ya so,” JC said, making some quick adjustments on the hem. “It’ll be such a wow moment.”

  The FIFI gala was just a few hours away, and backstage was bustling with activity. Designers were doing last-minute fittings; models were getting changed and having their hair and makeup done; and photographers were snapping it all.

  “How is our FAB team doing?” Mr. Kaye asked, finding them in the crowd of students.

  “Great—and right on schedule,” Mickey answered, checking a list on her clipboard. “My mom is doing the models’ makeup, and JC is on accessory patrol.”

  JC held up a black leather bootie. “Does this say superhero—or style zero?” he asked her.

  She gave him the thumbs-up and continued, “I really think we have it all under control, Mr. Kaye. I’m not nervous at all.”

  But she spoke too soon. Jade strutted in, and Jake followed close behind her, dragging several racks of garments. She had roped off a portion of the backstage area—the biggest and brightest space—and was now setting up shop.

  “Did you call to see if Gisele was free?” Jade asked her brother. “I want only supermodels wearing my looks on the runway tonight.”

  Jake shook his head. “Negative. She’s busy. But I got a maybe from Cara Delevingne.”

  “A maybe?” Jade gasped. “No one gives me a maybe. Does she know who I am?”

  Jake pulled out his cell phone and started texting. “On it.”

  “They don’t even have their models yet?” JC whispered to Mickey. “Can you say ‘train wreck’?”

  Mickey had no doubt that Jade would drum up some high-profile models in time for the show. But she did kind of enjoy watching her rival stress and squirm in the process.

  “Jake!” Jade bellowed. “Why is my Eiffel Tower dress not steamed yet? And where is the Superman suit?” Jake pulled a jumpsuit off the rack. Half of it looked like a conservative business suit; the other half like a superhero costume.

  Mickey couldn’t believe her eyes. “How is that even possible?” she asked Mr. Kaye. “I thought every team got a different challenge.”

  “That is true,” Mr. Kaye said, putting on his glasses to get a better look at Jade’s design. “I’m not sure what happened.”

  “Well, I’m gonna find out!” Mickey said, and marched over to where Jade was standing.

  “You stole my design…again,” she accused Jade. “First French architecture, now this.”

  “Excusez-moi?” Jade said, batting her eyelashes. “Why would I ever steal from you? I have way too much taste to go digging in the garbage bin.”

  “Superman. How did you get Superman?” Mickey continued. “Our challenge theme was Fashion Hero—so why do you have the same one?”

  Jade snickered. “I don’t. Mine was Under Cover, and Jake came up with the split design between Clark Kent and Superman.”

  “I’m a huge comic book buff,” Jake explained. “Superman is really Clark Kent undercover.”

  “Oh,” Mickey said, slightly embarrassed by her outburst. “So you just interpreted it that way.”

  “Do you have a problem?” Jade taunted her. “Because if you do, I’m happy to call over the head judge right now.” She waved to a gentleman across the room.

  “No, it’s fine, really,” Mickey backpedaled. The last thing she needed was to call attention to herself with the head judge.

  But Jade was determined. “Oh, Monsieur Roget!” she shouted. “Over here, s’il vous plait!”

  Mr. Kaye’s ears perked up. “He’s head judge?”

  Tony’s smile grew wide as he strolled over. “Why yes, Chester, I am. And I know how happy you must be to hear it.”

  “Elated,” Mr. Kaye replied sarcastically. “And since I know you never play fair, I suppose we should just pack our bags and go home right now.”

  Mickey stepped between them. “Oh no, we’re not!” she protested. “I worked really hard on my collection, and I’m proud of it.”

  “Yeah,” JC piped up. “We’re here to rock this runway.” He turned to his teacher. “Right, Mr. Kaye?”

  “Oh, all right,” he relented. “We’ll stay.”

  “Très bien!” Tony said. “I’m looking forward to seeing your entry in the competition. I’m sure any students of Chester Kaye’s are serious contenders.”

  Mr. Kaye looked up. Had Tony just paid him a compliment? “You mean that?”

  “I do,” Tony replied. “You seem to think I hate you—but I don’t. I admire you greatly.”

  Mr. Kaye blushed. “Admire me? Years ago you told the FIFI administration I wasn’t qualified to teach here.”

  “I told them I would be a great teacher—not that you would be a bad one. I stuck up for myself—how do you say, ‘Tooted my own horn’? I can’t help it if they liked what they heard.”

  “Did you toot too?” Mickey asked Mr. Kaye.

  “No,” he replied, scratching his head. “I don’t recall having a lot of confidence in myself back then.”

  “Your teacher—he was very quiet and shy,” Tony added.

  Mickey laughed. “Mr. Kaye? Quiet?”

  “I know, it boggles the mind,” Mr. Kaye said. “But it’s true. I always thought everyone—especially Gaston—was better than me.”

  “And I was not—that is clear,” Tony said. “I was just better at talking a good game.”

  “Ah,” JC said, nodding. “A branding genius. I get that. I’m always telling Mickey she has to create some buzz around her designs.”

  “Exactement,” Tony said. Then he turned to Mr. Kaye. “I am sorry we didn’t remain friends. We were the best of friends, and I’m sad to have lost that.”

  “Yes, well…” Mr. Kaye stammered. “Apology accepted.”

  Tony drew him into a huge hug, and Mr. Kaye squirmed. “You will come and be a guest lecturer at FIFI this summer, no?”

  “No…I mean yes!” Mr. Kaye said. “I would like that.”

  “And I would like us to bury the ax,” Tony said.

  “Hatchet. Bury the hatchet,” Mr. Kaye corrected him.

  “Yes, that too!”

  Mickey smiled: not only had she and JC made up, but Mr. Kaye and Tony had rekindled their friendship as well. That left only one person to smooth things out with. Mickey gritted her teeth but did the right thing.

  “Jade,” Mickey said, “your Superman look is great, and I know you and Jake came up with it fair and square.”

  “You do?” Jade looked confused. No one had ever accused her of playing fair before!

  “I do. And I think we both have very strong collections to represent our school here in Paris. So whichever team wins, it’s a win for FAB.”

  Jade was speechless; all the well-wishing made her feel uncomfortable. And come to think of it…itchy. She suddenly couldn’t stop scratching at her arm.

  “What are you doing?” Jake whispered to her.

  “I dunno—I’m really itchy,” she replied. She rolled up her sleeve and saw that her arm was covered in tiny, red bumps.

  “Those look like hives,” Mr. Kaye said, concerned. “Are you allergic to som
ething?”

  Jade panicked. “I dunno! Maybe it was that French brie cheese I had for lunch? Or the foie gras for dinner?”

  “Or polyester!” Jake suddenly shouted. “You insisted on buying that silk material to use on the Superman cape! Polyester is the only thing that makes you break out in a rash like this.”

  Tony examined the fabric closely. “Oui, this is polyester satin,” he said.

  “What? The saleswoman charged me a fortune!” Jade insisted. “She said it was the finest silk she had.”

  “Well, she did say it in French,” Jake reminded her. “Kinda fast. I told you we should have used Google Translate.”

  “Now what do I do?” Jade shouted. “I’ve been sewing that fabric all night for the show! It’s getting worse by the minute!” The angrier she got, the more the hives spread till they were creeping up her neck and spreading to her back and stomach.

  “I will have someone go with you back to the hotel, and I will call a doctor,” Tony insisted. “Jake will present your collection.”

  “I will?” Jake said. “By myself?”

  “You will—and you will do a fine job,” Mr. Kaye said, taking Jake aside and patting him on the back. “Time to toot your own horn.”

  Jade was scratching wildly. “Fine. Go present the collection. Just don’t mess it up.”

  Jake went to hug her, but she screamed, “Don’t touch me! I’m so itchy!”

  “Bye, Jade! Don’t do anything rash,” JC called as Tony escorted Jade out of the FIFI gala. “Get it? Rash?”

  Mickey giggled. “I don’t know about you, but I’m itchin’ for this competition to get started!”

  She and JC were cracking up when Mr. Kaye shot them a stern look. “I’m glad you find this situation humorous. FAB’s reputation is on the line.” He looked at Mickey, JC, and Jake. “And it rests in your hands.”

  As the black-tie guests flooded into the FIFI gala banquet hall, Tony took the microphone to welcome them. “Esteemed guests from around the world,” he began. “Welcome to the annual FIFI International Student Runway Invitational. The designers who are presenting here tonight are the best and brightest. They all have that certain je ne sais quoi, and their individual schools have chosen them as representatives.”