“You can use your own legs to walk home for once,” I say. “Last one there is a rotten egg.” Toby sprints off down the sidewalk, his book bag flapping against his back like a heavy cape. Mimi and I begin to follow him.
“So at the store, which was the hardest piece you ever had to sell?” I ask her. “The one thing that no one ever wanted?”
Mimi takes a few steps silently, and I assume she is thinking about the answer. When she still says nothing, I prod, “Mimi?”
“Yes, Tessie?”
“Which was the hardest piece you ever had to try to sell?”
“Sell where?” Mimi asks.
“At the—” I cut myself off. If she’s having a bad memory episode, I should just accept it. I shouldn’t upset her more with questions she can’t remember the answers to right now.
“I won!” Toby calls from the bottom of our driveway, and I give him a thumbs-up. Mimi and I walk the rest of the way home quietly, each feeling lost, but in different ways.
Chapter 14
I leave Mimi and Toby alone in the kitchen and take my bag downstairs to my room. When I pull out my phone, a huge stream of waiting text messages greets me. Every single one of them is from a number I don’t know, from someone whose contact information isn’t stored in my phone. I scroll down to the first one and open it.
Hey, it’s Gianna. Thanks again for today. Can I send you some pictures of the outfits I’m thinking of for Friday?
The next: Hi, Tess, this is Ellie. We talked at lunch. Would you put a necklace on top of a turtleneck, or skip it? Thank you for your help!
And then: Hello. You don’t know me, but I got your number from Gianna. Do you know where I could get a chain with one of those evil eye charms hanging from the middle? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you with one. I’m hoping to get it before Friday’s dance.
Overwhelmed, I scroll back to Gianna’s text and write, Hey, thanks for your message. So if you and your friends are interested, I run an accessory styling business, and I’d be happy to work with you guys. It’s called . . .
I think for a moment. I need a name that will make my business sound legitimate, where it won’t just seem like I thought of it off the top of my head. I look around my room, and my eyes settle on Blingingham Palace.
The Bling Queen, I type. Fifteen-minute advice sessions for $3, advice plus an accessory loan for $5, and a shopping trip for $10. Can you spread the word to your friends, and anyone who wants to can meet me at my locker tomorrow morning before school?
I press Send and then wait. This could be the end of my business before it even begins. If Gianna thinks this is a waste of her money, then her friends will almost certainly think the same. My entire enterprise rests in the hands of a sixth grader who I didn’t even know a few hours ago.
My phone buzzes with a new text, and I read, Sounds great! I’ll let everyone know. See you tomorrow! I smile widely to myself as I add Gianna to my contacts. I toss my phone onto the couch cushions and stand up. Then I twirl around the middle of Blingingham Palace to my own victory dance, no musical accompaniment needed.
A whole gaggle of sixth-grade girls greets me at my locker the next morning—Gianna and her three friends from yesterday’s lunch, plus a couple of new girls who I’ve never seen before. They wave enthusiastically when I walk through the door at the end of the hallway.
“None of us knew exactly which one your locker was,” Gianna says as I approach. “We had to ask someone.”
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “I should have told you.”
“No problem,” Gianna says. “So I told everyone here about your business, and we’re ready to sign up. Do you think you could fit all of us in before Friday’s dance?”
“Wow, um, I’ll certainly try,” I tell them. “I mean, yes. Yes, I will.” That’s the first step of running a good business, I think—sounding confident. “What is usually easiest”—I say “usually” as if I have done this for years—“is if everyone texts me what they’re looking for. Then I’ll schedule some time for us to meet, or I’ll pull some lending options from my collection, or we’ll set a date to go shopping. I can also go shopping for you, if that’s easier and if that’s what you prefer.”
“And when do we pay you?” the girl who I remember as Ellie asks.
“Up front,” I answer definitively. “Oh, and as insurance, anyone who borrows anything from my personal collection, if it’s lost or damaged or anything like that, I charge an additional five dollars.” The girls all nod like this makes complete sense, and I am impressed with myself at how official I sound. “Does everyone have my number? Once you do, text me your name, request, and timeline—when you would need to have this done by—and I’ll get back to you after school, once I can put together a schedule.”
“I’ll send your number to anyone who doesn’t have it,” Gianna says. “This is awesome.”
“Great. Thanks so much, guys,” I say. “I look forward to hearing from you.” I’m pretty sure I sound like a real business owner now.
The sixth graders turn and retreat down the hallway, calling excited good-byes over their shoulders. And when they have scattered, I see who has been standing at the back of their pack, listening the entire time.
Kayte.
“Snooping much?” I ask her.
“They asked me where your locker was,” Kayte answers. “I didn’t request to be involved in your little enterprise.”
“You could have left at any time,” I say, moving toward my locker and then twirling out the combination.
“You know what you’re doing is illegal, right?” Kayte asks.
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t exchange money on school property,” Kayte tells me. “Not for services rendered. It’s in the school manual.”
She read the school manual?
“I wasn’t exchanging money,” I say. “And services certainly weren’t being rendered, whatever that means.”
“It didn’t sound that way to me,” Kayte says. “I would shut down this little mooching operation right now before someone reports you for stealing from the poor, innocent sixth graders.”
“That’s not what I’m doing, and you also can’t threaten me, you know,” I say. “I’m sure ‘Don’t threaten your classmates’ is also in the manual.”
“Wait until Ms. Castleby hears about this,” Kayte says. “First you’re a copycat, and now you’re a thief.”
“Ms. Castleby is the one who gave me the entire idea,” I say. “I mean, her project did. I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear I’m actually putting it into practice.”
“Do you want to test that theory right now?” Kayte asks. “There she is.” Kayte takes off down the hall toward Ms. Castleby’s classroom before I can answer her, and I hurry to catch up. Ms. Castleby is still unlocking her door when Kayte reaches her.
“Ms. Castleby?” she asks in what I know Kayte thinks is her sweet voice. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Ms. Castleby answers. “Come in while I get settled.” I trail Kayte into the classroom.
“Ms. Castleby, about the business plan project—” I begin, trying to get out ahead of Kayte, but Ms. Castleby cuts me off.
“Sorry, Tess. Kayte was here first,” she says, and Kayte smirks at me with a gloating look on her face.
“I heard one of my classmates is planning to put her business into practice here at school,” Kayte says. “But isn’t it against the rules to buy and sell things on school grounds?”
“The ‘classmate’ she’s talking about is me,” I interrupt before Ms. Castleby can answer. “I’ve started an accessory consultancy business.” I use Rocco’s phrasing to make me sound more official. “But I’m not exchanging any money at school. It’s all being done on our own time, away from here.”
“I don’t see any issues, then,” Ms. Castleby says. “If the money isn’t being exchanged on school property, it’s fine. Is there anything else?” Ms. Castleby looks back and forth between Kayte and me.
<
br /> “But I thought we weren’t supposed to actually set up the businesses,” Kayte protests.
“You certainly don’t have to as part of your assignment grade,” Ms. Castleby tells her. “But I think it shows a lot of initiative if you do. In fact, Tess, once I hear more about what your business entails, I may have to be your first customer.”
I grin widely at Ms. Castleby, silently thanking her. “I would be honored. But you may have to get in line,” I tell her. “There’s a whole slew of sixth graders I’m currently dealing with.”
Kayte turns on her heel and leaves the classroom, murmuring “Thanks for nothing” under her breath. I say good-bye to Ms. Castleby and call “thank you” over my shoulder as I follow Kayte into the hallway.
“So there,” I say as I pass her, trotting down the hall to where I see Deirdre and Bree at their lockers. As soon as they spot me, they head in my direction. I call out, “You’re never going to believe what just happened.”
“Ooh, tell us,” Deirdre says.
“Yeah, I could use some good news right now,” Bree agrees. They come on either side of me and link their arms through mine, and I begin to recount the story.
And as much as they could drive me crazy, I had to admit that they were the two best accessories I could ever find.
That is, when we were speaking to each other.
Chapter 15
That night I create a spreadsheet on my computer for the Bling Queen orders that have been texted to me since this morning. I’ve already received six orders: two for fifteen-minute styling consultations, and four more requests to borrow a piece of mine. I decide that the easiest way to do this will be to have everyone over to Blingingham Palace at once, especially since we don’t have much time left before Friday’s dance. After I get permission from my parents (assuring them that this actually is for school, since it’s related to Ms. Castleby’s business plan project), I reply to each girl individually, asking if she can stop by between four and five thirty p.m. tomorrow. As the “yes” texts begin pouring in, I tap out a message to Deirdre and Bree.
Want to come over to my place tomorrow? I’m doing my first Bling Queen event from 4:00 to 5:30. Kind of like an open house.
I’ll be there, Bree writes back instantly. And a few minutes later Deirdre replies, Me too. I begin outlining my pitch for Friday’s business plan speech, feeling pretty good that this project, and the business itself, just may turn out to be less of a failure than I had feared.
A note from Ms. Castleby is waiting on my desk in homeroom the next morning, asking me to come see her as soon as I get in. I show it to my homeroom teacher and then dart out the door toward her classroom, pulling my phone out of my pocket so I’m prepared to write down whatever she has chosen as her first Bling Queen order. After all, I can’t very well ask Ms. Castleby to text me, right? That would be weird.
I breeze into her room and then come to a sudden halt. Because standing on the other side of Ms. Castleby’s desk is none other than Kayte Reynolds.
And if there’s anything I’ve learned lately, it’s that no good ever comes from a Kayte Reynolds sighting.
“Oh good, you’re both here,” Ms. Castleby says. “So I was trying to finish up the journals last night, and I noticed something curious about the two of yours.” I swear my stomach does a cartwheel then. I have been so busy getting Bling Queen up and going that I had all but forgotten about our nearly identical journals.
What is Ms. Castleby going to do to us? Report us to the principal for copying? Make us rewrite all of our entries? Can I ever get her to believe that I absolutely, positively did not copy Kayte? No matter what, I’m pretty sure I won’t be receiving an A+ on this assignment.
“By any chance do you two read Miscellaneous Moxie?” Ms. Castleby asks, and I am instantly confused. What does MM have to do with anything? Shouldn’t she be scolding us or something?
“Um, yes?” I answer, and I see Kayte nodding, looking just as confused as I feel.
“I could tell,” Ms. Castleby continues. “I was trying to figure out what your journal writing reminds me of, and that’s it—Miscellaneous Moxie’s blog posts.” Kayte and I stay quiet, waiting for the next part, where Ms. Castleby says we’ve been plagiarizing, or copying each other. I mean, I guess it makes sense that my journal has the same tone as MM’s—I do read it more than anything else, and I write about the same stuff. But is that a bad thing?
“I mean that as a compliment,” Ms. Castleby says when Kayte and I don’t respond. “You each have a very distinct voice in your journal—different from each other’s, and different from Miscellaneous Moxie’s. But they are both strong. And the style is similar.”
I glance at Kayte, but her face is still unreadable as she stares at Ms. Castleby.
“It was the way you decorated your entries that finally helped me figure it out—with the little illustrations and multicolored underlining and whatnot. That’s exactly what Miscellaneous Moxie does, only with fonts and stuff. It makes for a great effect.” Ms. Castleby finally seems finished.
“Oh, well, thank you,” I answer when Kayte still doesn’t say a word. “That’s my favorite site.”
“Yes, thank you,” Kayte agrees, though she doesn’t exactly sound like she means it.
“I secretly love that site too,” Ms. Castleby says. “I may be too old for it, but oh well.” She shrugs. “I was thinking, if you two ever have a project you want to try to do together, for extra credit or whatever, I think you could make quite the duo. What do you say?”
Kayte and I look at each other, and I can tell by the firm line her lips are making that she has no intention of agreeing to this.
“I’m actually having a Bling Queen—that’s what I decided to name my business—open house at my place tonight,” I volunteer. I mean, there is no way Kayte will ever go for this, but I’ll at least look like I’m making the effort in front of Ms. Castleby.
“What time?” Kayte asks, back to her sweet voice, I’m sure for Ms. Castleby’s benefit.
“Four to five thirty,” I answer, and then I turn to Ms. Castleby. “You’re welcome to come by too, if you want, but I’m also happy to pick something out for you, if you’re interested.”
“I am,” Ms. Castleby says. “But I think I might prefer you choosing and buying an item for me. That’s something you offer, right?”
“Of course,” I tell her. “Just give me an idea of what you’re looking for, and when you need it by, and I’ll get right on it.”
“How much is that again?” Ms. Castleby asks.
“Ten dollars,” I answer. “Plus the cost of the item.”
“Great,” Ms. Castleby says. “I’ll mail you the money, so we don’t exchange it on school grounds. Will that work?” And I get the feeling that she is saying all of this in front of Kayte for a reason, as if she wants Kayte to know that we’re not breaking any rules.
“Of course,” I tell her. “So maybe I’ll see you later.” I say this last part to Kayte as I turn to leave the room, knowing for certain that there is no way I will.
“I’ll be there,” Kayte answers, and I turn around quickly with my eyebrows raised. What is she up to? Is she just agreeing now because Ms. Castleby is listening?
“Do you need my address?” I ask her innocently.
“I remember it,” she tells me.
“Okay, then,” I say. “See you later.” I rush off to my homeroom ahead of her, dying to tell Deirdre and Bree about what just happened. But if I tell them ahead of time, that might make things worse. I need to keep tonight professional—all Bling Queen, all the time. I can’t have them picking a fight with Kayte, in case Kayte actually does show up.
I twirl the heart of my locket between my fingers again and again as our homeroom teacher takes attendance, and I decide to keep quiet about this development, at least for now.
The doorbell rings right at four p.m., and I rush up the stairs from where I was straightening Blingingham Palace. (To be fair, it’s pretty neat
at all times, but today I spread things out more and opened up my containers so the girls can examine things more easily.)
“I’ll get it!” Toby rushes to the door just ahead of me and flings it open.
“Toby, no!” I try to stop him. No official business owner should have her little brother answering the door, but Toby is insistent. Gianna and two of her friends stand on our stoop, each clutching cash in her hand and looking excited.
My very first clients.
“Come in, come in.” I open the door wider and pull Toby out of the way. “Toby, how about you go hang out with Mimi?”
“No, thank you,” he answers, which makes the sixth graders laugh. Unfortunately, this only encourages Toby more.
“Do you want to see my room?” he asks them.
“No, they definitely do not,” I say. “They’re here for business. But I’ll tell you what—the doorbell is going to ring a few more times, so if you want to be in charge of letting those people in, that can be your job. I’ll stay in my room to work with these girls.”
“Okay, I’ll do it!” Toby says, and he sits on the bottom two steps with his chin in his hands, facing the front door and waiting. I lead the sixth graders toward the basement, and they follow me down the steps.
“Your room is in the basement?” one of them asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “My grandmother moved in with us last summer, so she took my room, and my parents made me my own place in the basement. Here we are.” I walk them past the bed and desk side of my space and straight into the middle of my fake closet. “I call it Blingingham Palace, which I know sounds kind of corny, but it helped me think of the Bling Queen name for the business.”
The girls look around with wide eyes. “The shelves on this side are where I keep my accessories, so this is what we’ll be focusing on,” I continue, impressed again by how official I think I sound. “You can take a few minutes to look around. Then whoever is ready first can meet me on that couch under the window to start your consultation. Sound good?”
The Bling Queen Page 8