Clothes Minded

by Chloe Taylor

  Kate’s cheeks immediately went red, but there wasn’t time for Priti to tease her because on the TV screen, Sonya Turley was taking the ice.

  “Come in, everybody!” Priti yelled. “It’s time!”

  Everyone ran into the living room and shuffled around to get a good view of the TV. Zoey grabbed a throw pillow and squeezed it tightly to her chest. Her breath was stuck in her throat.

  Then Sonya appeared in her peacock-blue costume. There was a gasp in the room. Even Zoey couldn’t help gasping a little bit. It was so amazing to see her creation live!

  “It looks wonderful!” Kate said, rubbing Zoey’s back. “What a neat skirt.”

  Zoey had to admit the skirt flowed beautifully as Sonya skated to the center of the rink, just as she’d imagined it in her head. As Rhapsody in Blue began to play, Sonya launched into her routine, attacking her jumps and spins with energy and grace.

  “She’s wonderful!” Aunt Lulu said. “And your costume captures the music perfectly, Zoey. Bravo!”

  Zoey began to relax slightly. The costume did look amazing. And Sonya was killing it.

  The commentator, Clive Anzell, a former men’s figure-skating champion famous for wearing avant-garde fashions, said, “What a lovely and unique costume for a lovely and unique skater.”

  Zoey smiled and felt her cheeks heat up as everyone in the living room cheered for her.

  Sonya cruised across the ice, preparing for the most difficult of all the triple jumps, the triple axel. Zoey’s living room fell silent, and Sonya took off for her three-and-a-half rotations. She landed the jump, and the crowd exploded into applause, but a second later, Zoey’s living room was still silent. No one was cheering.

  The bottom hem of the beautiful car wash skirt had somehow gotten snagged on the sequin belt detail of Sonya’s costume and tucked under itself.

  “What happened back there?” asked Marcus. “It looks like she tucked the skirt into her underwear or something!”

  “Quiet, Marcus,” Allie snapped.

  Mortified, Zoey covered her face with her hands. Her friends all immediately put their hands on her—her arms, her back, wherever—for support. They held their breath as Sonya continued her routine.

  Zoey separated her fingers just enough to peek through them. Sonya was still skating her heart out, either unaware of what the back of her costume looked like or simply carrying on the way she was expected to. And while her skating was lovely, her wardrobe malfunction was distracting.

  The silence continued for two painful minutes. To Zoey, they felt like eons.

  “It’s not like her underwear is showing or anything,” Marcus said finally. “Or her butt. It’s just that the skirt is all bunched up. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Marcus, stop!” Allie hissed. “You’re making it worse.”

  Zoey wasn’t angry at her brother. She knew he was honestly trying to be helpful. But what he didn’t understand was that the primary purpose of a skating costume is to look beautiful and perform during a skating routine. It wasn’t supposed to have snags that made the entire country focus on Sonya Turley’s behind for four whole minutes!

  Clive, who had been gallantly trying to keep the conversation on her skating, finally said, “It looks like Sonya might want to have a chat with her costumer after this performance. If she’s going to be landing triple axels in competition, she needs an outfit that can handle it!”

  The other commentator, a coach, replied, “These costumes are usually vigorously tested through many dress rehearsals. But I’ve never seen Sonya wearing this one before. Maybe it’s new, and they didn’t have time to take it for a test drive.”

  “She won’t make that mistake again,” Clive said.

  Sonya’s routine ended, and she curtsied to the crowd. She skated around to pick up several of the flowers and stuffed animals fans had thrown onto the ice, waving to the crowd and smiling.

  The camera then showed her coach, urgently gesturing to her to adjust her skirt. At first Sonya looked confused, then turned her head to look down her back and saw the problem. She gamely swatted at the skirt with her hand to get it to unsnag from the sequins, smiled with a slight shrug, and skated off the ice, as if she couldn’t have cared less.

  “Wow,” breathed Kate. “She’s amazing! She’s so poised.”

  “It’s not like it’s that big of a deal,” Priti said. “Skirts move around. That’s what they do. That’s why I always wearing leggings or bike shorts underneath.”

  “But this is an ice-skating skirt,” Zoey moaned. “It’s not supposed to look like it’s tucked into her underpants!”

  Sonya sat down in the kiss ’n’ cry booth to await her score. One of the reporters at the event ran over to ask her questions.

  “Sonya, did you know your skirt was messed up like that? Did it make it hard for you to concentrate?”

  Sonya smiled serenely, even though she was still waiting for her score. “I didn’t know. All I cared about was landing my triple axel, which I did!”

  Mr. Webber clapped. “That’s right, Sonya! Remind the audience what really matters.”

  Sonya’s score finally appeared, and it was a personal best for her long program! She stood up and took a bow, flipping her skirt with her hand, as if to poke fun at the situation.

  “Turn it off now, please,” Zoey pleaded. “And someone bring me a slice of pizza!”

  Aunt Lulu ran to the kitchen to get her a slice.

  “You know,” said Libby gently, “it was your design, but you didn’t sew the costume. The costumer is a professional and should have been able to fix that. Or they should have done a dress rehearsal, like the commentator said.”

  “I know,” said Zoey. “But I can’t help feeling responsible because I’m the designer! She never would have been wearing that costume if it weren’t for me.”

  “Stop beating yourself up, Zoey!” Priti ordered. “I mean it!”

  With a sympathetic smile, Lulu placed a slice of pizza in front of Zoey. She ushered the family and Allie back to the kitchen, leaving Zoey alone with her girlfriends. Lulu seemed to understand that sometimes a girl just needed to be alone and wallow with her pals.

  Kate, who must have been desperate to change the subject, blurted out, “So I had another date with Tyler last night.”

  Priti leaped on her. “You did? TELL!”

  Kate looked at Zoey, to make sure it was okay that she had started talking about something else. Zoey nodded gratefully.

  “Well, it was kind of weird, actually. We went to a movie, then out for ice cream afterward, and it seemed like he kept saying what I wanted to hear instead of whatever he really thought.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Libby.

  “Like he kept talking about how he liked soccer because it’s a ‘low-scoring game,’ and that makes each goal so much more thrilling, which is exactly what I think. But he’s never even played soccer and doesn’t seem to watch it on TV, from what I can tell. And then when we got ice cream, he went ahead and ordered us both hot fudge sundaes, without asking me first! It was like he already knew my favorite thing without even asking.”

  “I don’t think any of that is weird,” Priti insisted. “Soccer is a low-scoring game, and tons of people like hot fudge sundaes. Maybe you’re just a perfect match!”

  Kate frowned. “But it feels . . . off. Like he knows me already, but he doesn’t. You know?”

  Zoey couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe she was just too upset about Sonya’s costume, or maybe she was tired of Kate being so determined not to like a nice boy simply because he wasn’t very athletic and seemed able to guess what she liked without having to ask first.

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Kate, it was me!” said Zoey. “I’ve been helping Tyler.”

  The shock on Kate’s face was awful to see. Zoey felt like Kate was looking at her as if she didn’t know her at all.

  “You’ve been what?” Kate said.

  Zoey nodded her head. “He e-mailed me before your f
irst date and told me he liked you a lot. He asked me what a few of your favorite things were. It was very innocent, I promise. And really sweet. And then he’s e-mailed me a few other times to ask me things like your favorite ice cream, flower, color, whatever. It wasn’t really personal stuff, I swear!”

  Kate’s eyes grew dark. “So that’s how he knew to bring me a daisy. Because you told him I loved daisies! Zoey, how could you? How can I find out if I actually have anything in common with him, or trust how I feel about him, when you’re telling him what to do and say? I want him to be himself! Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  “Listen, Kate,” Zoey snapped. “If it weren’t for us, you wouldn’t have even given that boy a chance. You were so close-minded about him not playing sports! He’s a nice guy!”

  “That’s for me to decide, not you! And in my opinion, someone who e-mails my best friend behind my back to spy on me doesn’t seem so nice! It seems sneaky!”

  Zoey looked to Priti and Libby for backup. She knew they thought Kate was being awfully tough on Tyler too.

  But Priti stayed uncharacteristically silent, and Libby sat looking down at her hands. Neither of them were used to hearing Kate and Zoey argue.

  “You don’t understand,” Kate went on. “I’m under enough pressure! My parents are so excited a boy has been calling me, and I’m finally interested in something other than soccer or swimming, they’re practically planning my wedding! They keep telling me to invite him over for dinner, and they want to make plans to meet his parents. Seriously!”

  Priti looked sympathetic. “That’s a little crazy.”

  Kate nodded. “Exactly. I’m just not ready for all of this. I was hoping to get to know him slowly and see if I liked him enough for it to be worth all this bother. But between you and my parents, it’s too much!”

  Zoey didn’t know what to say. She had no idea Kate’s parents were so into the idea of Kate dating, but she did know they were always trying to get her to join clubs at school she had no interest in, just to keep her from being a total tomboy.

  The doorbell rang, and Libby hopped up to get it. It was Mrs. Holbrooke, ready to take Priti and Libby home.

  Since Kate just lived a few houses up the street, she normally would just walk. But with a swift look at Zoey, Kate said, “Mrs. Holbrooke, would you mind dropping me at my house too? I don’t feel like walking tonight, and I’m ready to leave now.”

  Mrs. Holbrooke looked at Zoey questioningly, as if she could sense the tension in the room. But Zoey kept her face blank.

  “Of course, Kate,” Mrs. Holbrooke said. “I’d be happy to.”

  Priti and Libby said good-bye to Zoey and yelled thank-you to Mr. Webber in the kitchen. Kate stayed quiet, pretending to be very busy putting on her jacket. Then the girls left, without Zoey and Kate saying a single word to each other.

  Zoey couldn’t remember a time when she or Kate had walked away mad at each other. Not one single time.

  How could a few innocent e-mails have gone so terribly wrong?

  CHAPTER 13

  Zipping it!

  I think I may have really messed up, readers. I usually think of myself as a pretty open person, ready to try new things, meet new people, and like everyone! But lately I think I’ve been a little close-minded. There’s a person I know who I’ve always sort of written off as just a meanie and not bothered trying to be nice to her. But recently this person seems to have matured a bit, or lightened up, or something. And I’m the only one who hasn’t been willing to give her another chance! (Probably because I’ve been burned by her too many times to count.) But I think it’s probably time that I do.

  Even worse, I think I’ve been close-minded toward one of my own besties, because I interfered (kindly! I meant it kindly!) in her love life, which I should never have done. And all because I assumed I knew what was best for her better than she did. Why didn’t I remind myself what a smart girl she is and how she always, always makes good decisions? Why did I think I was so right about everything? Sigh. I think I’m ready to finally stop being close-minded, and get back to just being clothes-minded! (Ha! Did you see that coming?)

  What do you think of this fantastic white faux-leather jacket? Wouldn’t you love to wear it while sitting on the bleachers, watching a soccer game, like I will be this weekend, rooting for my oldest and dearest pal, if she’ll please forgive me? I should have kept my mouth shut instead of telling a certain someone what she liked and disliked. Notice all the zippers? I officially promise to “zip it” from now on and not be anyone’s Cyrano de Bergerac. I’m sew sorry, K. . . .

  It was Monday morning yet again. In her usual sleepy, Monday fog, Zoey ate breakfast, packed her backpack, and rode the bus, sitting next to Kate as usual. Kate’s hair was in its customary messy ponytail, and she was wearing cuffed jeans and an old faded camp T-shirt. A typical Kate outfit. But other than that, nothing was the same. Kate barely said a word to Zoey the whole ride, so Zoey tried to give her some space.

  Before lunch, Zoey trudged to her locker, thinking about the response paper she needed to write for English class and what it was she was supposed to remember to bring in for science the next day. A rock? Some aluminum foil? She had no idea.

  When she turned the corner of the hallway where her locker was, she stopped short. Kate was there, waiting there for her.

  Kate stood leaning against the lockers. Zoey had never been so happy to see someone. Kate was holding note cards in her hand and studying them, unaware Zoey had arrived.

  “Hey, there,” Zoey said to catch her attention. “What are you studying for?”

  “The Spanish quiz,” Kate replied. Her grip on the cards tightened visibly as she looked up at Zoey. “I read your blog apology. Your, um, blog-pology.”

  “Apolobloggy? Abloggogy?” Zoey joked, glad to relieve some of the tension.

  Kate half smiled. “You weren’t the only one being close-minded, by the way. I was too, toward Tyler. It’s just that from the moment I mentioned him to you guys and my parents, everyone’s been pushing us to be boyfriend and girlfriend! And I didn’t know anything about him yet. I still don’t, really.”

  “I’m so, so sorry, Kate. You’re totally right! How can you decide if you like someone when he’s just doing things to please you? But I totally get it now—even friendly intervention in someone’s love life is not okay. I will never be your Cyrano again!”

  “Good,” said Kate. Then she added, “I’d still like you to be my fashion consultant, though, for the rare occasions when I really care about what I’m wearing. But it won’t be for dates any time soon! I thought a lot yesterday, and I called Tyler and told him I just wasn’t ready to date yet. Like, anyone. I just want to be friends with him. And he was cool about it.”

  “Wait, what?” said Priti as she appeared beside them. “I hate to interrupt you guys making up, but, Kate, did you seriously tell Tyler you won’t go out with him again?”

  Kate sighed heavily. “Yes. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Priti!”

  Priti bit her lip and smiled. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Because I’d just come up with the perfect couple name for you guys—Kyler! Or maybe Tylate. No, Kateler.”

  Kate laughed and punched Priti on the shoulder. “No, thank you. I’m back to being myself—just a regular girl who loves soccer, volunteering, and hanging with her friends. It’s such a relief!”

  “And I’m back to just being a designer instead of a ventriloquist,” Zoey said jokingly. “Did I tell you Sonya Turley sent me an e-mail about the ice-skating costume?” She fished her phone from her bag, located the e-mail, and read it aloud. “ ‘Thanks for the design, Zoey! It was really beautiful, and my backside now has its own Twitter account. My coach says any publicity is good publicity, and hey, at least I won the silver medal!’ ”

  “She has a sense of humor,” said Priti. “I like that. She’s about, what, fifteen years old? Maybe she’d be good with Tyler?”

  Kate smiled. “Nah—wouldn’t work.
She’s too athletic.”

  “But remember? Opposites attract,” pushed Priti. “Well, sometimes. And only if they want to.”

  The girls laughed and looped their arms together as they headed to lunch. Zoey had her best girlfriend back. Whatever she’d forgotten for Science class (was it plastic bags?) didn’t matter much at all.

  By the end of the day on Tuesday, it hit Zoey that it was her turn again to come up with an activity for the fashion club. She’d been so busy with schoolwork, volunteering, and studying that she hadn’t had a second to think of anything. She looked through the ideas in the comments section of her Sew Zoey post asking for club ideas, but everything sounded too complicated. She remembered mentioning to a few of the club members that she’d been teaching herself to knit and wondered if she could ask Mrs. Holmes if the school had some knitting needles everyone could use to learn a few basic stitches. She only had one set at home. She told Sean the idea in home ec, and he quickly approved it.

  But when the end of the day Wednesday came, Zoey had forgotten to ask Mrs. Holmes and found herself rushing, yet again, just to be five minutes late to the meeting. When she arrived, Sean was there, having already set up the room by himself and borrowed the knitting needles from Mrs. Holmes. They were passed out to club members, along with skeins of yarn, and everyone was staring at Zoey expectantly, ready to begin.

  Zoey apologized profusely and got right down to business, teaching everyone how to cast on, and to knit one, purl one (the seed stitch!).

  The group began trying to make their own stitches. Josie mentioned she’d had some experience knitting before, but she was having trouble getting her purl stitches to stay smooth.

  Ivy leaned over and looked at Josie’s work, saying, “It doesn’t look like you’ve that done much knitting before. Yours looks the same as mine!” Ivy proudly held up her bumpy bit of knitting to show the group.

  “Ivy,” Zoey chastised reflexively. “Cut it out.”

  “C’mon, Zoey—I didn’t mean it like that at all. I was just teasing her. You know, like normal friends tease one another.”