Until she saw her standing by the three dress forms and staring at Emma’s three sorbet-colored dresses.
Paige reached out and touched the fabric of each dress with a light, practiced touch.
Emma’s heart began to pound so loudly she was almost positive that Paige could hear it. Charlie looked up and took off his headphones. Emma shot him a “please-keep-quiet” look. By some miracle, he seemed to get the message.
“Love!” Paige exclaimed. “They’re so…Tahitian Sunset!”
Had Paige Young just used the word “love” about Emma’s dresses?
Before Emma knew what was happening, Paige whipped out her digital camera from her oversized black leather bag and started snapping away.
“Who designed these dresses?” Paige asked without turning around.
Uh-oh. Now what? Emma couldn’t tell her she was the designer. Paige would probably laugh, or worse, pat Emma on the head and give her some lukewarm encouragement. And Paige clearly was up on all the latest work by real designers—after all, that was her job—so if Emma told her the dresses were made by someone famous she would most likely know Emma was lying. Besides, how would Emma explain why these pieces were in the back corner of this random lace warehouse?
Just as suddenly as it had started, Paige’s photo frenzy stopped. She faced Emma and put her hands on her hips. “I know you can speak. I heard you before.”
I’ve got to say something, Emma thought frantically. She racked her brain for an idea. She hadn’t been this nervous since the time she had to give her first viola recital. She hated viola and hated having to play it in front of people even more. Her Italian music teacher kept whispering, “Play allegra! Allegra!” An instruction Emma never understood. The word sounded more like a pretty girl’s name than a way to play the string instrument of torture.
“Allegra.”
“Allegra—?” Paige asked.
Had she said it out loud? Now she couldn’t take it back! Her comatose brain was suddenly in sugar-rush mode. It wasn’t bad, she thought. Allegra. Some of the greatest fashion designers are Italian. Allegra works. I need a last name. A last name that also sounds Italian. Dolce, Gabbana, Pucci, Armani—every name that swirled through her fashion-obsessed mind was already taken. Her eyes desperately roamed her studio for inspiration, landing on a pretty red and white tin box that now housed her straight pins but had once held biscotti, a holiday gift sent by one of her dad’s customers.
“Allegra Biscotti!” Emma blurted. Emma could see Charlie’s eyes widen, but thankfully he didn’t laugh or snort or even blink.
“Allegra Biscotti,” Paige repeated slowly. “Is she around?”
She believes me! Emma thought, wide-eyed. “Uh, no, sorry. She’s not here right now. And I’m pretty sure she’s gone for the day,” Emma said, using her best answering-the-office-phones voice that Marjorie had taught her.
Paige pursed her lips and turned back to the dress forms. She reached out and touched the raspberry dress again, feeling the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. “Do you know if this one is for sale?”
“Yes, it is!” Charlie piped in.
Emma shot Charlie an I’m-gonna-kill-you! look behind Paige’s back. But he just waved his hand a few times. Go with it!
“Are you sure?” Paige asked, turning back to Emma.
“I am,” Emma said, trying to unclench her teeth and speak normally. “Because, um, Allegra sometimes sells directly to private customers and we, uh, help her do that,” she attempted.
Paige seemed to buy that, too, because she said, “Well, the raspberry one is just bananas, it’s so good. I have to have it. I need to get in touch with Ms. Biscotti ASAP. How do I do that?”
That was a really good question. How did someone get in touch with a fake fashion designer who was actually a fourteen-year-old girl standing right there?
Paige’s cell phone trilled from deep within her oversized bag. “Got to pause,” she said to Emma as she dug for her phone and walked a few steps away to take the call.
Emma was about to ask Charlie what she should do, but Paige returned much faster than she expected.
“Now I really have to bolt. Major crisis,” she explained. “One of the rock stars we were shooting for our music issue borrowed the Chloe dress we photographed her in for a red-carpet event last night. She promised-promised-promised she’d return it by the end of today. Naturellement, she didn’t bring it back, and she’s leaving tonight to start her tour in Tokyo. Which means I have to go wrangle it back so I don’t get in trouble with the designer, who loaned it to us in the first place. Craziness, right? I swear, there is never a dull moment,” she said shaking her head. “So, about that contact info…?”
“Right! Right. I’ll write it down for you.” Emma plucked a scrap of paper off her worktable and signaled Charlie to hand her his pen. Heart racing, she scribbled down some numbers.
“Thanks!” Paige grabbed the piece of paper without looking at it. “That way out, right? I think I can find it. And please don’t forget to ask Ms. Biscotti about the dress. I happen to be a perfect size four, so it shouldn’t need any alterations. Ciao for now!”
Emma waited until she couldn’t hear the clack-clack of Paige’s footsteps anymore to finally let out her breath— which she suddenly realized she had been holding for most of the past five minutes. “Wow! I think I just made my very first sale—and to a major fashion editor! That really happened, right? You saw the same thing I did, didn’t you, Charlie? I didn’t just imagine it—?”
But Charlie was doubled over in laughter.
“Charlie! What? Why are you laughing? Was this some sort of prank?”
“No!” Charlie inhaled deeply to catch his breath. “No…I just want to…know…how you came up…with the name ‘Allegra Biscotti’!”
“I’m not sure. It kind of came out of nowhere. Besides, what’s wrong with Allegra Biscotti? I mean, other than the fact she doesn’t exist.” Emma crossed her arms over her chest.
“Nothing! It’s great.” Charlie still laughed.
Emma laughed, too. It was kind of funny. Crazy, really.
“And now you have your very first customer,” Charlie pointed out. “Well, Allegra’s very first customer but still. Awesome.” Suddenly, Charlie turned serious. “Wait. What phone number did you give her?”
“My cell. Is that bad? I didn’t know what else to do,” Emma explained.
“Bold choice,” he said. “But it sounds like she’s actually going to call you—I mean, call Allegra—to find out about that dress.”
“Oh, no!” Emma cringed. So not-smart. “When she calls that number, she’s going to hear Holly and me scream-singing a Black Eyed Peas song on my outgoing message.”
Charlie tossed Emma her cell phone from the table. “I’m thinking you might want to change that back to the generic greeting, Allegra.”
CHAPTER 3
SMOKIN’ HOT NEW DESIGN TALENT
Emma! Are you up yet? And by ‘up’ I mean actually out of bed!” her mother shouted from down the narrow hall of the Roses’ apartment.
“Yes!” Emma stared into the organized chaos of her tiny closet. Though it was no wider than the length of her arm, it held an impressive number of clothes and accessories. Emma used antique hooks scavenged at flea markets, stacked sweater boxes decorated with collages she made from magazines, and a few extra shelves her dad had built to keep her closet tidy.
Maybe I’ll wear that smoky-purple silk scarf I picked up on the street near school, Emma thought. One of the best things about Downtown Day was that the exclusive private school was located in SoHo, one of Emma’s favorite neighborhoods. It had tons of cool boutiques and art galleries. Just peeking in the windows gave her inspiration for her designs. She stood on tiptoe, reached up, and slid out a box that she had decoupaged with cutouts of colorful flowers.
“What did you say?” her mother called, her voice sounding closer now.
Emma rolled her eyes, plucked out the scarf, and slid
the box back into place. She swung open her bedroom door. It wasn’t like her family’s three-bedroom apartment was so huge that her mother couldn’t hear her behind the closed door. But Emma knew this was one of her mother’s tricks to make sure her kids weren’t still in bed. “I’m up! Satisfied?”
“Very,” her mother said. “You know how I love torturing you and your brother every morning. It’s my favorite part of the day.”
“I thought bugging us about homework was your favorite part,” Emma mumbled.
“I’m ignoring that.” Her mother rapped on William’s door. “Will! Up! Now!”
Emma gently shut her door. Normally, she would still be lying in bed, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep. She knew her mother woke them up earlier than really necessary, scared they would make her late for work. Mom taught English and composition—at Emma’s school. When she first started Downtown Day, Emma was really proud of the fact. She used to visit her mother’s classroom all the time and beg to help grade papers.
Now, she rerouted through the halls with the primary mission of avoiding her mother. Sure, Joan Rose taught in the high school, which was attached to the middle school, but that was really just a technicality. Any way she looked at it, Emma went to school with her mother. Way too much family-togetherness time.
But this morning, the excitement of meeting Paige Young was still so fresh in her mind that the minute Emma opened her eyes, she jumped out of bed. What happened yesterday at Laceland was too mind-blowing for words. She didn’t even care if anything ever came of it. Emma switched on her laptop. She hoped Holly was online so she could tell her all about Paige. Holly had been missing in action all night.
As the computer started up, Emma went back to her closet. What can I wear with the scarf? she wondered. Maybe those narrow khaki riding pants with the brown suede patches on the inner knees she’d bought on a whim last spring. She reached for the pants and held them up with the scarf, considering the combo. Good, but she’d have to find a top and shoes that were the complete opposite of horsey. She definitely didn’t want to look like she was dressing for Halloween.
Emma glanced at the computer screen. Neither Holly nor Charlie was logged on. Figured. She clicked open her favorite bookmarks and rolled the cursor over the link to StylePaige.com, Paige Young’s own blog. Emma had just looked at it last night, but she felt like reading it again. It made yesterday more real. She needed to spend a few more minutes reliving it all before the reality of school crashed down around her.
The home page featured the usual stuff—reviews of fashion shows, the latest “it” bag for fall, and some young, starved model who was the hot, new runway sensation. Emma stared at the artfully photographed picture of Paige Young at the top of the right column. She clicked “Refresh” and then scrolled down the page for another few seconds. The clock at the bottom of the screen said 7:02…oops, 7:03. She had to get moving. Just as she turned away, something caught her eye. She whirled back around. A new posting.
Emma gasped. Leaning closer, nose almost touching the screen, she read the latest headline out loud, “Smokin’ Hot New Design Talent Discovered Yesterday: Exclusive First Peek at Allegra Biscotti!”
Emma blinked really hard and looked at the page again. There it was: Allegra Biscotti.
That’s me! Emma thought. I’m on StylePaige!
There were photos—photos of her dresses! She couldn’t stop staring. They looked so good. So professional. So real.
Emma noticed a short paragraph under the headline. She sank into her desk chair and began to read:
Deep in the heart of the Garment District, Allegra Biscotti has been quietly working away on three of the freshest designs I’ve seen in eons. (See my exclusive pix below!) Helped by the yummy sorbet colors, these playful and imaginative dresses hit just the right note, like the first truly warm day of the season. One thing’s for sure: this style spotter is going to have her eyes peeled for more from Allegra Biscotti!
Emma leaped up and whirled around her room. She didn’t know what to do first. She wanted to cheer, to dance, to celebrate with someone! She swung open her door and ran out into the hallway. Her mother’s angry voice from the kitchen stopped Emma in her tracks.
“William! Are you kidding me with this? You are not wearing basketball shorts to school!” her mother yelled. “Go change. Now.”
Emma tiptoed backward into her room and quietly closed the door. Nope, she wasn’t about to get in the middle of whatever was going on out there. Charlie! She had to tell Charlie the good news. She grabbed her cell phone out of her school bag and hit the speed-dial.
“Whaaat?” Charlie whined after the second ring.
“Did I wake you?”
“Obviously,” Charlie grumbled. “This better be good.”
“It is, I promise!” The words tumbled out as she told him about the blog post on StylePaige. “And she even says at the end that she’s ‘going to have her eyes peeled for more from Allegra Biscotti!’ How cool is that?”
“That so rocks!” Despite the remnants of sleep in his voice, Charlie sounded truly excited. “You’re famous. Or Allegra is.”
Emma couldn’t stop grinning. “You know what’s kind of weird, but in a good way? I’m reading about myself but not, you know? Right now, you and I are only two people on the planet who know that Allegra Biscotti is really me! I can’t wait to tell Holly.” She clicked on “Print” so she could take a copy of the posting with her to school.
Charlie yawned. “Can I go back to sleep now?”
“Sure, but don’t you have to get up in like five minutes anyway?”
“Every minute counts.”
Emma tapped her fingers against the metal door of her locker, her eyes trained on the end of the hall. She felt like she’d been waiting forever for Holly. She flipped open her phone to check the time—again. Less than ten minutes before the last bell. She was literally going to explode if she didn’t get to tell Holly about Allegra.
The corridor became more crowded by the minute. Now she couldn’t see the top of the stairs. Standing on tiptoe, she craned her neck to peer above her classmates’ heads. Where could Holly be?
Suddenly, her eyes locked with Jackson Creedon’s.
For a split second, the chaos of the students filling the hall dropped away. His eyes were so blue, his gaze so steady. What am I doing? Emma thought. He’s going to think I’m staring at him! She ducked for cover behind Coco and pretended to organize her books. Had Jackson asked about her? Holly better show up soon!
Leaning back ever so slightly, Emma snuck another look at Jackson. She couldn’t help it. After three weeks of being in the same few classes with him, she still didn’t know much about him other than what she could observe from brief glances—okay, fine, when she stared—at him:
He was super-cute (obvious).
He was quiet (or at least not as loud as the guys he hung out with).
He spent a lot of time writing or drawing or doodling in his notebook, which made him seem like he was not paying attention in class, kind of like Emma, now that she thought about it. She so wished she could get her hands on that notebook…Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.
When he did look up at the teacher or the board, he had the cutest way of squinting and biting the right corner of his bottom lip. She couldn’t let herself look at the whole lip-biting thing for too long because it made her stomach spin…but in a good way.
The only other thing she knew about Jackson was that he played on Downtown Day’s soccer team—not that she had ever been to a school soccer game before. Maybe I should go one of these days, Emma suddenly thought. Then I can stare at him freely. In fact, she reasoned, if I went to a soccer game and didn’t watch, it would be rude.
In Emma’s mind, Fantasy Jackson was deep and super-thoughtful. She imagined that he sometimes felt like he didn’t fit in, even though he so clearly did. And after seeing him put a few pieces of scrap paper in the paper-recycling bin before leaving the classroo
m once during the first week of school, she imagined that he was super-caring about the planet.
In the Real World, a massively huge ocean separated them socially. He was in the cool crowd, and Emma was… not. Even though she had been going to school with most of these kids since the fourth grade, Jackson had been able to walk into school and immediately fit into the most popular crowd.
Then again, Emma hadn’t ever tried to get into the popular crowd—not like Holly seemed to be doing now for some reason. Emma had realized that the only hope she had of getting to know Jackson was through the new Holly-Ivana alliance. At least that was a teeny, tiny ray of hope…because otherwise, there would have been no chance of their worlds ever crossing beyond the few classes they were both in.
There was a major downside to this social bridge to Jackson. Ivana came with Lexie, who so obviously wanted to be Jackson’s girlfriend. Emma had seen Lexie purposely sit next to Jackson in biology on the first day of school, so she would wind up being his lab partner. And even though Lexie’s locker was on a different corridor, Emma noticed that Lexie was always hanging out at Kayla’s and Shannon’s lockers, which were much closer to Jackson’s.
It was within the realm of possibility, Emma supposed, that that particular piece of evidence could have less to do with Lexie being after Jackson and more to do with the Ivana-Bees’ inability to be separated for more than thirty seconds at a stretch, but Emma highly doubted it.
After years of being in the same small school together, Emma knew that Lexie wasn’t the type of girl who ever lost at anything. She got straight A’s; she was the captain of the middle-school field-hockey team, which was undefeated last year; and most importantly, every semester since sixth grade, Lexie had decided who was going to be her boyfriend, and within a few weeks, she and the guy were a couple.
Not that Emma would ever admit it to anyone, but sometimes she envied Lexie’s focus, drive, and determination. Lexie saw what she wanted and went after it. As Emma’s brother, William, always said, probably parroting his favorite sportscaster, “You gotta be in it to win it.” Lexie was definitely in it. Emma? Not so much.
The Allegra Biscotti Collection Page 3