Now what? Emma wondered. She focused her eyes on the comic book. “What are you reading, I mean, instead of studying for bio?”
Jackson finally looked at her with his sky-blue eyes, sending an electric current through Emma. He reached across with his left hand to rake his brown wavy hair away from his face, but it just flopped forward again, covering his right eye.
“It’s a graphic novel called Night below the Surface.” Despite the ruckus of the auditorium, his voice was soft and low, as if he were sharing a very special secret only with Emma. “It’s kind of a series. I’m pretty into it. This is the second one—it just came out.”
Emma could hardly believe she was having a real live conversation with Jackson. She had to keep it going as long as possible. Who knew when an opportunity like this would come up again?
“Sounds interesting. Can I see?”
“Sure.” He handed it to her. “You into graphic novels?”
“No—well, not yet.” Emma flipped through the pages. The illustrations were in black, white, and charcoal gray with touches of various shades of blue and yellow here and there… they were dark and dramatic but beautiful. “What’s it about?”
Jackson shifted around to lean forward on the armrest between them to get a better view of the pages. They weren’t touching, but they were close enough—the closest she had ever been to him—to make Emma’s heart start pounding wildly, maybe even loudly enough for him to hear. Luckily, the noise level in the auditorium was still pretty high.
“It’s about this group of teens who were the only survivors of the apocalypse,” he explained. “They started their own society, but they have to live underground in this urban jungle to stay hidden away from the forces of evil roaming the surface.
“See those two? They’re the main characters—a brother and a sister. They’re kind of the leaders. His best friend also survived, but we’re not sure yet if he’s still a good guy or if he became a bad guy in the last book. But he’s definitely hiding something—we just don’t know what yet.”
“Wow,” Emma said. “That sounds really cool.” And a lot like what’s going on in my life. As she turned the pages, she felt herself being drawn more deeply into the story—not by the text but by the moody illustrations of this mysterious underground world. She couldn’t get enough of the characters’ sleek, futuristic clothes, especially the sister-leader. She was beautiful and strong and fierce. Emma was dying to hear more—both of the story and Jackson’s voice—but just then Vice Principal Manning tapped loudly on the microphone, making everyone jump.
The magic moment was gone…
Emma handed the book to Jackson. As he tucked it back into his textbook, Emma caught Lexie turning around again to check up on the Jackson situation. But this time Emma did not hide. She deep down actually hoped Lexie had seen Jackson talking to her and showing her the book.
“Hello!” Vice Principal Manning said. “Hi, okay, we’re ready to get started here. Sorry for the delay, everyone. Technical difficulties!”
As soon as the assembly was over, Jackson was out of his seat, joining his soccer team friends already making their way up the aisle. Emma’s heart still beat like crazy from both the excitement of sitting next to him for thirty whole minutes and because now she had a fantastic idea for her designs for Madison magazine.
Holly sidled up next to her. Emma totally expected to see Ivana and the ’Bees right behind Holly, but they were nowhere to be found. They must’ve ducked out a side exit. She smiled at Holly. Maybe things were back to normal with them. Maybe her friendship with Ivana was a passing fad— like Crocs or neon clothes—whose time had faded.
“So how’d it go?” Holly asked eagerly.
“Actually…it was awesome.” Emma beamed. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it, but I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, okay?” Emma hurried toward the exit. There was no time to waste. She had to get started on her designs. They were going to be like nothing she had ever done before. It was a good thing Holly hadn’t saved her a seat!
CHAPTER 10
THE ALLURE OF ALLURE
Into post-apocalyptic graphic novels these days, Em?” Charlie asked as he entered Emma’s work space at Laceland the next afternoon. He nodded at her inspiration wall, now covered in pages from Night below the Surface.
Since the second Night below the Surface book—the one that Jackson was reading—had just come out only a few days before, Emma had to go to three bookstores before she could track down a copy for herself. She’d spent all of the night before flagging her favorite pages and sketching madly. She hadn’t even taken her homework out of her bag.
“Not really,” Emma replied. “Just this series. I saw, um, a boy at school reading it, and I thought it might be good as inspiration for Allegra’s collection. It’s cool, right?”
Charlie walked along the wall, looking at the different illustrations Emma had cut out. “So Allegra is going to be making futuristic clothes that could survive the end of our civilization as we know it?”
“Nope. I mean, the clothes are cool and everything, but I don’t think futuristic is really Allegra’s thing,” Emma explained. “Besides, she needs to make them her own— interpret them in her own way—not just make designs that another artist came up with, you know? That would be like, too literal…and not particularly creative.”
Charlie settled himself on the stool across the table from Emma. “I get it. So what do you and Allegra have in mind?”
“Do you know what the book’s about?” Emma asked.
“I read the first one. But it looks like I won’t be able to borrow the second one from you.” Charlie picked the shredded remains of NBTS 2 off Emma’s worktable. Emma had cut out full pages in some places and smaller frames in others.
“When I first heard what the story was about, I was caught up in the idea of hiding. The main characters have to hide from the evil forces, so they can’t live freely or be who they really are. Which I can really relate to right now.”
She smiled at Charlie—the only one who was in on her “double life.” Charlie might just be the only person she wasn’t hiding anything from—except for that crush on Jackson…
“Anyhow,” she continued, “I’m going to design three pieces, all with amazing linings somewhere inside. I just love the idea of giving people a peek of hem or a pocket lining or the inside of a cuff or collar and revealing something secret and special on the inside. And I’m going to do it all in the same colors as in Night below the Surface.”
“That sounds seriously cool,” Charlie said appreciatively. “Very Allegra Biscotti. Let me see the sketches.”
“They’re still totally in progress.” She slid her sketchbook across the table and pointed. “That sketch and two on the next page.”
The first design was of an iridescent, stretchy silvery dress that ended just below the knee and had a side slit to mid-thigh. It had a deep neckline with a short, stand-up collar like the ones on the Chinese silk jackets hanging from all of the stalls in Chinatown. The slit and inside of the collar would offer a peek at a pretty print lining of some sort. Emma was also planning to use the lining fabric on one side of the belt, so that it could be tied at the waist with either the print or the solid dress fabric facing out.
The next was a charcoal-gray, three-quarter-sleeve jacket with an exaggerated high collar and wide, swingy bottom with a box pleat in the back. Emma planned to line the inside of the collar, the turned-up cuffs, and the inside of the box pleat with a different printed fabric. If she had time, she might try to make gloves out of the lining fabric, too.
Her third piece was a dove-gray fitted vest with several patch and welt pockets—some of them hidden inside—that could be worn alone, with either of the two other pieces, or anything else, like a white T-shirt or blouse. She’d have to find a fabric with a lot of stretch because she wanted the vest to be super-fitted. It would also be fully lined with yet another splendid print.
“So what’s next?” Charl
ie asked, genuinely curious.
“Next I have to sketch out every piece of each garment from every view—you know, from the front, back, and sides. Those sketches are called ‘flats,’ because they’re flat-line drawings without any color. On those I need to put in all the details like how many buttons and buttonholes I need, where a zipper or pockets should go, how the collar and cuffs should work, darts, seaming—technical stuff like that. And then I drape muslin onto the dress forms to figure out the size and shape of each piece.”
“Muslin?”
“Yeah. It’s this white cotton fabric. Way cheap, so my mistakes aren’t expensive mistakes. My grandma taught me to use it. Then I start making my patterns.”
“Whoa. That’s too much work. Can’t you just get the material and sew?” Charlie asked.
Emma laughed. “No. Then you end up with an ugly mess. Mismatched sleeves, crooked seams…”
“You’re right.” Charlie nodded. “No ‘Intro to Sewing’ projects here. This is the real deal. Madison mag.”
“Shoot!” she said, noticing the time, “I want to go to the fabric store before it closes. I need to see the kinds of fabrics I can afford, so I can work them into the designs.”
Charlie reached into his backpack, pulled out a crumpled white envelope, and slid it across the worktable toward Emma.
“What’s this?”
“Open it. It’s for you.”
Emma peeled the flap and peered inside. Money. Several twenties, fives, and ones bundled together with a rubber band.
Emma could not imagine what this was for. Or where Charlie had gotten it.
“Why are you paying me?”
“I’m not. I’m contributing,” Charlie explained.
“Contributing to what?”
Charlie let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, Em. I may act like an idiot sometimes, but I’m really not. I know that making clothes, clothes that are hot enough to make it onto the pages of Madison, costs money. And I know that you can’t possibly have the cash to afford the fabric you want without hitting up your parents, which I know there’s no chance of, so here. It’s not a lot, but it’s something.”
Emma fingered the worn bills. The right thing, the thing her mother had trained her to do, would be to give the money back to Charlie. But she could so use the extra cash. As it was, she was going to have to empty her entire sock-drawer cash stash. She had even debated the pros and cons of pleading with William for money.
“But, Charlie—” She’d never taken money from a friend before.
“Look. It’s not a gift. Does that make you feel better? It’s a loan. Like in the theater, people put up money to help get a show on Broadway. Then when the show’s a hit, they get their money back plus a little extra. Trust me, I’ll be collecting when everyone lines up to buy your clothes.” Charlie was back to being Charlie. And Emma knew he would come collecting, which was strangely comforting.
“Thanks,” Emma replied. Now they really were in this together. “Want to come to the fabric store with me?”
“Nah. I’ll just hang here.”
“Don’t think you can.” Emma gathered up her sketchbook, pencils, and markers. “I’m not coming back. I have to finish a world history paper, which is late, and read a zillion chapters of A Separate Peace tonight.”
“If you don’t have time for me now,” Charlie teased, “what happens when you become über-successful?”
“Don’t worry,” Emma replied, turning off the light above her worktable. “Allegra will always remember the little people who helped her get where she is…”
“Which is…middle school?” Charlie guessed, following her down the dark hall.
“Yup. And unless she gets that history paper done, she may not even be there!”
After Charlie headed home toward the prospect of five wannabe actresses singing songs from Wicked in his apartment, Emma walked the six blocks to Allure Fabrics.
Even though it was late in the day, Allure was crawling with students from the Fashion Institute of Technology. With thousands of bolts of fabrics piled on shelves that reached all the way to the ceiling, the store’s acoustics completely muted the sound of their excited chatter.
Allure Fabrics was one of Emma’s favorite places. For the past two years, since she’d been allowed to wander around New York City on her own, every time she walked into Allure, she got the same rush as she did as a little girl going into Economy Candy, the lower Eastside sweets emporium. Only now bold graphic prints, shimmery gem-colored satins, nubby Easter-egg-colored tweeds, and butter-soft jerseys made her heart race instead of bins full of gumballs, jellybeans, and chocolate marshmallow twists.
She loved how the fabrics were grouped by colors, textures, patterns, and weights. Chiffon. Denim. Duchess satin. Eyelet. Linen. Twill. Tulle. Velvet. Every kind of silk imaginable, from batiste to voile. Even organic cotton and eco-friendly fabric made from bamboo. It amazed her how many different possibilities there were—and slight variations within those themes—and yet somehow, there was an order to them.
Sometimes she would come here and just follow the fashion students up and down the aisles as they selected material for school projects. But today Emma was on her own mission. And for that, she needed Nidhi.
Nidhi was Emma’s favorite salesperson at Allure. She was in her late twenties, fashionable and funky—and a little quirky, which made Emma love her even more. Her midnight-black hair was pin-straight and cut into a choppy fringe that framed her face. She was only a little taller than Emma, but her confidence—and high heels— made her tower over Emma in her flats. Nidhi worked part time at Allure to make money and industry connections until she could get her own clothing line together. Plus the employee discount on fabrics helped her afford to design her own things.
Emma walked back into the depths of the cavernous store. A swarm of students surrounded Nidhi, fighting one another for her attention.
“I saw it first, Lila!”
“You are so lying, Crystal!” Lila retorted, clutching a bolt of purple, red, and yellow charmeuse. “I found this like twenty minutes ago!”
“But then you put it back, so it’s fair game!” Crystal screeched
“Ladies!” Nidhi shouted as best she could with her naturally quiet voice. “This fabric comes in more than one color, so you can both have it. Or not. Flip a coin or draw straws or something. Then let me know when you decide. I have other customers, yeah?”
Nidhi wriggled out from between them and practically fell onto Emma in relief. “Hi cutie! Sorry about that. First years—always the same. Zillions of fabrics to choose from, and everyone wants the same one! Never fails.” She threw up her hands. “What’re you looking for today? I don’t have anything new on sale yet. Maybe next week.”
“Actually,” Emma said, “this time I may buy some things at full price.”
Nidhi grabbed her chest as if she were having a heart attack, jingling the array of tiny gold charms that dangled from her triple-strand necklace. “No! It can’t be! My best bargain hunter paying full retail? What’s the occasion? Making a dress for some dance at that fancy school you go to?”
Emma snorted and waved her hand. “Hardly. But it is a special occasion.”
“Good enough for me, yeah? Tell me what you need.” Nidhi’s eyes jumped from Emma’s face to something going on over her shoulder. “I have to go break up another fight. Go look on that table—we just got in new stuff.”
As Nidhi marched away on her suede wedges, Emma hurried over to the new arrivals table. She was immediately drawn to a bolt of silk covered in a watercolor design boasting many of the same hues—cobalt and turquoise and other aquatic shades—as in Night below the Surface. There wasn’t much left, but she could probably make it work somewhere.
Before Emma could reach for the bolt, a take-no-prisoners fashion design student with wildly curly brown hair appeared out of nowhere. She snatched it off the table. Emma noticed her fingers were covered with dozens of mermaid-shaped silver rings.<
br />
“Excuse me. I…I was looking at that one,” Emma stammered. “Are you going to buy all of it?”
“Probably,” she sneered, tucking the fabric roll under her arm and striding toward the cash registers in lace-up green combat boots.
I should’ve grabbed it when I saw it, Emma thought, angry with herself. She sized up the fabric thief. No question about it. She was much bigger and meaner looking than Emma. Plus the tips of all those mini-mermaid fins look pointy and sharp and way dangerous. Emma had no chance of grabbing the fabric back.
“Store closing in twenty minutes! Twenty minutes! No exceptions! I don’t care if your professor gives you an F or you cry real tears!” Abe Sherman, the gruff and grumpy owner of Allure, shouted. He was famous for his permanent bad mood. Emma suspected it was all an act, but she kept a healthy distance all the same.
“Okay, I’m back,” Nidhi said as she walked up to Emma. “Quick—tell me.”
Emma explained that she needed three shades of gray that worked together— an iridescent silver, something charcoal, and a lighter dove gray. She wanted all of the textures to be different. And for the linings, she explained, “I want silky or satiny fabulous prints—all different kinds—with cobalt, turquoise, and canary yellow. And they all need to work together somehow. I saw one on the new arrivals table, but—”
Before Emma had even finished, Nidhi was off and running. Emma had to speed-walk to keep up even though Emma was running around in silver Converse sneakers and Nidhi was tottering on mountainous wedges. Nidhi darted through the store, her head snapping up and down as she expertly scanned the shelves.
When her arms were full, she dropped off an ocean of deep blue, bright turquoise, and hot yellow prints on an empty cutting table and then did another circuit collecting bolts of gray, which she deposited onto the same table. Emma’s hand immediately reached for a glossy satin in a watercolor blue print that was similar to the one she had seen—and lost—on the new arrivals table.
The Allegra Biscotti Collection Page 10