by Chloe Taylor
Zoey laughed. “Yeah, we kind of look like the Farm Twins, don’t we?”
“I like your outfit,” Ezra said. “So, are you ready to rock the fair?”
“Definitely,” Zoey said. She turned and saw Dad and Marcus standing in the kitchen doorway, waiting for their introductions.
“Ezra, meet my dad and Marcus,” she blurted out quickly. “Okay, time to go!”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Webber,” Ezra said. “And Marcus.”
“And you, too, Ezra, however briefly,” Zoey’s dad replied, grinning as Zoey hurried out the door.
“I apologize in advance for anything embarrassing that my parents or siblings do today,” Ezra said as they walked to his car. “I begged them to be on their best behavior, but there are no guarantees.”
Zoey laughed.
“I told my dad and brother to ‘be normal’ when you rang the doorbell,” she said.
“Well, they did a good job,” Ezra said, smiling. “I hope my family does as well!”
Ezra’s younger brother, Robbie, and sister, Amelia, were cute and very talkative. Ezra and Zoey kept them busy playing I Spy and word games, which made the ride to the state fair pass quickly. Ezra’s parents were nice, too—he’d obviously told them about Zoey’s and her blog, and they asked her questions about her designs.
“Ezra said you’re going to have a booth at the Mapleton Gift Fair this year,” Mrs. Marks said. “That’s a great event. I go every year.”
“Oh . . . ,” Zoey said. “Well . . . actually . . . I didn’t get selected. They’re cutting back on clothing vendors this year.”
“That’s too bad,” Mrs. Marks said.
“Better luck next year,” Ezra said.
“I hope so.” Zoey sighed.
When they arrived at the fair, Mr. and Mrs. Marks checked that Zoey and Ezra had their cell phones and arranged a meeting time and place for later. Then they took the younger kids off to see the sights and left Zoey and Ezra to their own devices.
“What do you want to do first?” Ezra asked. “That sign says we can milk cows. Wanna try?”
“Sure!” Zoey said. “I’ve only ever got milk from a carton!”
They watched a video on how to milk a cow, and then they got to try on a real-live cow.
It turned out milking a cow was harder than it looked.
“I never realized that milk is warm when it comes out,” Ezra said, sitting on the milking stool, his face against the cow’s side. “Although if you think about it, it makes sense!”
“We’re used to drinking milk cold out of the fridge,” Zoey said, struggling to eke a dribble of milk from the cow’s udder into the bucket below. “This looked a lot easier in the video!”
After realizing they weren’t going to make it as milkmaids, they moved on to try to guess the weight of the enormous butter sculpture of a cow, a butter churn, and a round of cheese.
The prize was a year’s supply of . . . butter!
“Do they just give you the sculpture as the prize?” Zoey asked as she filled in her blank entry.
“I hope not!” Ezra said. “It must get pretty dirty after everyone looking at it and sneezing and everything!”
“True,” Zoey said. “Yuck! If I win, I definitely want fresh, clean, unsneezed-on butter!”
After visiting the sheep and the goats, Zoey and Ezra decided it was time to go on some rides. They hit the flying swings, the tilt-a-whirl, and finally the giant Ferris wheel. When their car reached the top of the wheel, they took in the view, and Ezra reached for Zoey’s hand.
Zoey wondered if he was going to kiss her. She half wanted him to and was half nervous about it. But he didn’t. They just sat and looked out over the fair.
“You don’t realize how big this place is until you see it from up here,” Ezra said.
“I know!” Zoey agreed. “There’s a huge farm machinery section we haven’t even visited.”
“You don’t have a room for a tractor in your garage,” Ezra said.
“True,” Zoey said. “But I think I’m making room for some fried Oreos in my stomach. Marcus said they were amazing.”
“As soon as we get back on the ground, we’ll investigate the fried everything aisle!” Ezra promised.
And they did. Zoey tried fried zucchini, fried okra, fried macaroni-and-cheese balls, fried dough, a variety of fried desserts, and finally fried Oreos, which were just as amazing as her brother had promised.
“I’m so full, I don’t think I can walk,” Zoey groaned after licking the last of the Oreos from her fingers.
“I know how you feel,” Ezra said. “Good thing it’s time to go meet my parents!”
“Can you believe they have fried cotton candy?” Zoey said.
“If you can eat it, we will fry it! I think that’s the official motto of every state fair.” Ezra laughed.
“And if it’s not, it should be,” Zoey agreed. She smiled at Ezra. “Thanks for a really fun day.”
CHAPTER 5
Room to Grow
How fast do babies grow? I hope I’ve left enough room for my new cousin in the dress I’ve designed for Aunt Lulu to wear at the baby shower. I’m not exactly an expert in the maternity field. The only experience I’ve had with growing things is with plants, and I don’t think they’re quite the same as human babies when it comes to growth rates!
I had a great time at the state fair. Fried Oreos are delicious. So are fried macaroni-and-cheese balls, fried Twinkies, fried Snickers bars, fried cotton candy, and even fried okra! If all vegetables were fried, maybe I’d even eat the ones I don’t like.
My outfit managed to survive without any wardrobe malfunctions on the rides, and it turned out that my friend also likes gingham shirts, so we matched!
“I know it’s only Tuesday, but I still haven’t heard anything back from Daphne,” Zoey complained to her dad and Marcus at dinner.
“Wait . . . didn’t I just drive you to FedEx to send her the box on Friday?” Marcus asked.
“Well, yeah,” Zoey admitted.
“And like you say, it’s only Tuesday,” Marcus pointed out. “Give your poor fashion fairy godmother a break!”
“Yes, but—”
“She’s a very busy lady, Zo,” Dad said. “And this has happened before, remember? You were all stressed out because you hadn’t heard from Daphne, and it turned out she was out of the country visiting fabric manufacturers in China.”
“I know.” Zoey sighed. “This just feels . . . different somehow. And I want to be in her pop-up shop so badly!”
“Don’t worry,” Dad told her. “I’m sure Daphne will come through, just like she always does.”
Even though she tried not to think about it constantly, Zoey wasn’t very successful. Not only that, she checked her e-mail at every possible opportunity, to see if Daphne had sent anything yet. Finally, on Thursday she checked her phone at lunchtime, and saw an e-mail from Daphne Shaw in her in-box.
“Daphne finally wrote!” she exclaimed, opening the e-mail to read to her friends.
“ ‘Dear Zoey,’ ” she read. “ ‘Thank you for being so wonderfully prompt with the samples. I’m sorry to say that I—’ ”
Zoey faded into silence as her eyes scanned the end of the sentence. It wasn’t good news.
“Don’t leave us in suspense!” Priti said. “She’s sorry to say what?”
Zoey stared blankly at a spot of spilled milk in the center of the table.
“She’s sorry to say that she wasn’t taken by any of the pieces I sent—they aren’t up to my ‘usual level of creative innovation.’ ”
“Ouch,” Libby winced.
“Oh, Zoey . . . ,” Kate said.
Zoey tried to hide how crushed she felt, but it wasn’t easy. She never thought she’d get a rejection like that from her mentor. Not from Daphne.
“It’s not the end of the world,” she said, attempting to convince herself more than anyone else. “She gave me an idea of what she’s looking for, and she�
�s letting me submit a few more designs.”
“Well, that’s good!” Priti said. “She’s giving you a second chance.”
“But what if my second chance isn’t good enough?” Zoey worried. “Can you imagine how awful it’ll be with Ivy? She heard me telling you about the pop-up shop, and now if Daphne doesn’t like any of my designs, she’ll think I was lying! And even though she’s been nicer to me lately, I bet that’ll be all it’ll take to get on her bad side again.”
“You can’t live your life worrying about what Ivy’s going to think,” Libby said. “Or what she’s going to do.”
“And why shouldn’t your second chance be good enough?” Kate asked. “Daphne’s loved all your work before.”
“I don’t know.” Zoey sighed. “I just can’t believe that both things I was looking forward to so much have fallen through—the gift fair and now Daphne’s pop-up shop. From now on, I’m not going to talk about anything exciting until it actually happens!”
That evening, after telling her dad and brother about the disappointing news, Zoey went to her bedroom to work on new ideas. She sat at her worktable, pencil in hand, trying to come up with some fresh clothing designs for the pop-up shop, based on Daphne’s guidance. Normally, she had so many ideas, it was hard to get them out of her head and onto the paper fast enough. But with her confidence rattled, every time she started to sketch, she second guessed herself. What if it turns out awful? What if it’s not up to my usual level of creative innovation? What if I’m just not good enough?
She heard the phone ring but was busy worrying, so she let Marcus get it.
“Zo! It’s for you!” he shouted.
When she picked up, the woman on the other end introduced herself as Mrs. Perry and said she was one of the organizers of the gift fair.
“We’ve had a cancellation, and we’d like to offer you a booth, if you’re still interested,” she said. “Are you?”
Finally! Some good news! Zoey thought.
“Yes! I am!” she exclaimed.
“Oh good,” Mrs. Perry said. “There’s just one caveat: We’d like you to add more accessories to your offerings, because they’re easier to sell as gifts. Would you be willing to do that?”
“Sure,” Zoey said—although as soon as she agreed, she wondered if it would cause problems with Allie.
“Great!” Mrs. Perry said. “We’ll see you on setup day!”
Zoey thought for a few moments after hanging up the phone, then she dialed Allie’s number.
“Hey, Allie—good news! I got a booth!”
“You did? That’s awesome!”
“Yeah, there was a cancellation,” Zoey explained. “I was wondering—could we get together tomorrow to talk details?”
“Sure!” Allie said. “I’ll come over at . . . How does ten sound?”
“Sounds good,” Zoey said.
Hopefully, Marcus would sleep late, so she wouldn’t have to deal with any awkwardness between her brother and his former girlfriend. And hopefully, she’d be able to talk through the accessories situation with Allie.
Mr. Webber was reading the paper and drinking coffee in the kitchen when Allie arrived the next morning.
“Allie Lovallo! Nice to see you,” he said. “It’s been a while.”
Zoey flashed her father an Oh, Dad! look. Did he have to make a point about the fact she hadn’t been around as much . . . for obvious and awkward reasons?
“Great to see you, too, Mr. Webber,” Allie said.
“Let’s go in the living room,” Zoey said. “So we can talk.”
“I’ve got pictures of some new belts I’m going to be selling at the gift fair,” Allie said. “I can’t wait to show you.”
The girls sat on the sofa, and Allie took out her phone and started swiping through photos of her newest accessories.
“What do you think?” she asked Zoey.
“They’re fab,” Zoey said. “I like the one with the beads.”
“Yeah, that’s my favorite, too,” Allie said. “I like it so much, I almost don’t want to sell it!”
“Speaking of selling . . . um . . . One of the conditions of me getting the booth at the gift fair is that I have to offer more accessories,” Zoey said.
“Oh,” Allie said.
“Are you upset?” Zoey asked.
“No, not upset,” Allie said. “I totally understand. I just don’t want to feel like it’s some kind of competition, because we’re both going to be selling accessories.”
“I don’t think it will be,” Zoey said. “I mean, our styles are different enough that there’s room for both of us, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Allie said. “That’s true.”
“How about we just promise not to let it get weird?” Zoey suggested.
“Sounds like a plan,” Allie agreed. “I’m up for a No Weirdness Pact.”
Once they’d shaken on it, Zoey felt better about the whole thing, although secretly she wondered if they’d actually be able to keep to their weird-free pledge.
“Hey, Zo—Oh . . . Allie.” Marcus stood in the doorway in his pajamas, his hair standing up every which way.
“Hi, Marcus,” Allie said, standing up as if the sofa had suddenly caught fire. “I was just leaving.”
Zoey looked at her, surprised. Allie hadn’t said anything about leaving until Marcus walked in the room. Zoey wondered if the awkwardness between her friend and her brother would ever end.
“Don’t leave on my account,” Marcus said. “I’m going to get something to eat.”
“No, it’s okay,” Allie said. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff to get done today with the gift fair coming up so soon.”
“How are . . . things?” Marcus asked.
“Good!” Allie said brightly. “Busy!”
She picked up her bag and car keys.
“See you soon, Zoey! I’m glad you’re in the show!”
“Yeah, me too,” Zoey said, although right now, she was feeling pretty awkward about everything to be too glad about it!
Zoey spent Sunday trying to come up with ideas for accessories that would be different enough from Allie’s merchandise that it wouldn’t seem like they were competing. She kept coming back to the fabric bracelets—like the ones she’d made for Ivy and for her friends. They were pretty easy to make, they looked great, and they were really popular.
She sketched out several new designs to add to the ones that had been popular at school. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that the bracelets were the best solution.
The following day, she showed the new designs to her friends and explained the latest about the gift fair situation.
“I want to stay away from earrings and necklaces, so I’m not directly competing with Allie,” she continued.
Zoey noticed that Priti didn’t seem as excited and enthusiastic about her designs as usual.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Well, it just seems a little . . . I don’t know . . . hypocritical, is all,” Priti said. “I mean, when my cousin’s friend in India copied the sari you made me to wear to my cousin’s wedding and sold the knockoffs in her clothing store, you freaked out because she was copying your work and making a profit.”
She leaned forward, as if to emphasize her point.
“But now you’re doing exactly the same thing with these bracelets,” Priti said. “Copying someone else’s design to make a profit. I don’t want to get into a fight like we did last time, but I don’t understand why one is okay and the other isn’t.”
Zoey was taken aback—and, truth be told, upset—by her friend’s criticism.
“I’m not a hypocrite!” she protested.
“I don’t want to make things weird again,” Priti said, clearly distressed. “I just want to understand why there’s a difference.”
“I can see Priti’s point,” Kate said, ever the diplomat.
“Me too,” Libby said. “But I also love the bracelets Zoey made for us, so m
aybe I’m a hypocrite too.”
“I mean . . . well, when I got upset before, it was early on,” Zoey explained. “And now I’ve learned from being in the fashion business for a while that people make copies all the time. It’s just the way it is, and Daphne Shaw told me to accept it as a compliment when people copy my designs.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Priti said. “Now I understand better.”
“It would be different if I were claiming these were the authentic bracelets and charging the full price,” Zoey said. “But the ones I make are my interpretation of the popular design, and I would be selling them at a lower price.”
“That’s true,” Libby said.
“I like yours better, anyway,” Kate said.
“I’ll try to think of something else to make and sell at the fair,” Zoey said, feeling unsure of what to do. “I just have to figure out whatever it is in a hurry, because there isn’t much time left! Plus, I still have to send more pieces to Daphne Shaw, but I’m stumped about how to design something that shows off my creativity or whatever. I thought anything I made was creative.”
“I wonder if the clothes for the fair were too basic, since you meant them to be crowd-pleasers, you know? She probably just wants to see your personality in the clothes for her shop,” Priti said, then got an idea. “What if you pull the pieces from your closet that feel the most like you, the ones that are so Zoey?”
While Priti laughed at her own pun, Zoey hugged her. “Thank you, you’re brilliant!” Zoey finally said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I couldn’t wrap my head around what Daphne might be looking for, but I think you’re on to something. And if I choose the pieces I really love, it means they fit well and have appeal. I know just the pieces I’m going to pick and mail!”
“See, it’ll work out,” Libby said.
That night, after scouring her closet for Daphne-worthy designs, Zoey decided on a few pieces to give to her dad to mail in the morning. Dad and Marcus were watching a ball game in the living room when she came downstairs with the clothes, so she waited until she saw that it was a commercial break before she got their attention.