To Albert,
With all my love,
—Laurie
For little Juliette, my fashion princess
and best shopping buddy
—J.K.
Word from Mallory
A Contest
Crunch Time
The Envelope, Please
Operation: Moms
New York, New York
The Unhappy List
The Quiet Game
The Girl Who Had It All, Almost
An Idea
Showtime
Double Trouble
Facing Fran
On Top of the World
Friends Forever
SUPERSIZED Scrapbook
Pizza, Mallory and Mary Ann Style
“Hurry up! Fran is on in five!” I say into the phone.
“Get the popcorn and lemonade ready,” Mary Ann says back. “I’ll be right over with pens and paper.”
One of the best parts about living next door to my best friend is that it doesn’t take long to get to each other’s houses. Mary Ann is on my couch before I even get there with the snacks.
Fashion Fran is about to announce the details of her fashion design contest that she has been talking about for weeks.
I turn on the TV and settle in next to Mary Ann.
She takes a sip of her lemonade. “I don’t think I can wait another second,” she says.
I shake my head. I agree completely. Fran announced the contest a few weeks ago, but it feels like it has taken months for it to officially begin. And today’s the day. I can’t wait to find out what it’s all about.
As the music we’ve been listening to every afternoon for as long as I can remember starts to play, Mary Ann and I squeal.
Like always, we count down with the announcer as we wait for Fran to appear on the screen. “The moment we’ve been waiting for is finally here!” I say.
But before we get to enjoy it, my brother, Max, walks into the room. He grabs the remote and changes the channel.
“I want to see the sports scores,” he says.
Mary Ann and I both fly off the couch at the same time. So does the bowl of popcorn. My brother is usually faster than I am, but today I grab the remote out of his hand before he can stop me.
“Are you crazy?!?” I shout at Max. “Mary Ann and I have a V.I.S. to watch.”
Max looks at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about, so I explain. “V.I.S. is short for Very Important Show.” I tell him that Fashion Fran is having a design contest. “We’re going to find out all of the details today!”
Now Max looks at me like I’m the one who is crazy. “And you and Birdbrain actually think you can win?”
I wave my hand at Max to make him stop talking.
A. I don’t like when he calls my best friend Birdbrain.
B. His question is ridiculous. We have as good a chance as anybody.
C. I don’t have time to answer anyway. Fran is starting to talk.
Mary Ann and I both put our fingers to our lips and make a shhh! sound. But Max is already leaving. Mary Ann and I turn our attention to the TV.
“Fashionable viewers, welcome to a very special episode of the show.” Fran smiles at the camera. She pats down her already smooth hair. Then she twirls so viewers can see what she’s wearing.
“I love her sparkly sweater,” I say.
“And her lace skirt,” says Mary Ann.
We both shake our heads. One thing Mary Ann and I have always agreed on is that Fran is very fashionable.
The camera pans over the audience. It is filled with happy faces. “Can you even imagine what it would be like to be there?” I ask Mary Ann.
Mary Ann squeezes my arm.
It has always been our dream to be on her show together. But it is hard to imagine that ever happening. We watch as Fran keeps talking. “I’m sure you are all anxious to hear about the design contest,” says Fran. “But first, I want to tell you a little bit about how I started as a fashion designer.”
I turn up the volume. I know Mary Ann wants to hear this as much as I do.
Fran tells viewers how she loved playing with fabrics and designing outfits when she was a little girl. The camera cuts to pictures of ten-year-old Fran using a miniature sewing machine she says her grandmother gave her.
“I have been sewing and designing ever since.” Fran smiles into the camera. “Now, it is your turn.”
“The contest is simple,” says Fran. “Design your dream outfit, your most perfect, fashionable ensemble, on one sheet of 81/2 by 11 paper. Please use pencils and colored pencils only. Send your design to my studio in New York, addressed to Design Your Dream Outfit Contest.”
A New York City address flashes on the front of the screen.
“Write that down,” I say to Mary Ann.
Mary Ann starts writing.
Fran keeps talking. “You have three weeks to submit your design. I will personally look at each and every one that comes in.” Lights twinkle on the screen behind Fran. She smiles into the camera. “And when we come back, I’ll announce the prize for winning the Design Your Dream Outfit contest.”
The TV cuts to a commercial.
“I can’t wait to start designing,” says Mary Ann. “Me too,” I say to my best friend. My head starts filling up with ideas. I can already picture the dream outfits Mary Ann and I are going to design.
I’m really excited to design my dream outfit. But I’m even more excited to find out what you get if you win the contest.
When Fran returns, the lights twinkle again. “Now, the moment you have all been waiting for.” A drum rolls in the background.
I squeeze Mary Ann’s hand as Fran starts talking.
Fran raises an eyebrow and grins. “Viewers, I will choose the winning design. Then our seamstresses will sew it, creating a real dream outfit from the design.” Fran pauses like what she’s about to say next is the most exciting thing she has said so far. Mary Ann and I lean in toward the TV.
“The winner will receive an all-expenses-paid trip for four to New York City … AND a chance to appear on my show and model the winning design!”
When Fran says that, Mary Ann starts bouncing up and down on the couch. I’m starting to feel couch-sick. It’s the same thing as seasick, except it happens when you’re on a couch that is moving instead of a boat.
“Wow! Wow! Wow!” screams Mary Ann. “All we have to do is win the contest, and we get to go to New York City and model our outfits on the Fashion Fran show. We’re going on Fashion Fran!”
I look at Mary Ann. I’ve never seen her so bouncy. I’m excited too, but I’m not sure why she’s so bouncy. I’m also not sure why she used the word “we.”
I put my hand on her arm and she stops moving. “Didn’t you hear Fran?” I say. “She didn’t say “winners,” she said “winner.”
I wait for what I said to sink in, but it doesn’t. Mary Ann waves at me like she’s heard enough. She points to the screen. Fran is starting to talk again.
She holds up a sketch pad and a pencil. “You design it. Our seamstresses sew it. One lucky winner will model her design on the show.” Fran smiles. “This contest is only open for the next three weeks. So get busy drawing your dream outfit. I know there’s a fashion designer in all of you.”
Fran blows a kiss and waves. “That’s it for today. See you tomorrow with more of the latest, greatest finds in the world of fashion.”
The camera cuts to another commercial.
“One lucky winner” keeps spinning through my head. What was supposed to be the most exciting episode ever just turned into the worst episode ever. “What are we going to do?” I ask Mary Ann.
Mary Ann looks at me funny. “About what?”
Sometimes I wonder what goes on in Mary Ann’s brain.
“Only one person gets to go on Fran’s show. And there are two of us.”
Mary Ann takes a deep give-me-a-minute-to-think-about-this breath. “It’s simple,” she says. “All we have to do is make a pinky swear. If one of us wins, we’ll figure out a way to both go on the show.”
She holds up her pinky like she’s waiting for me to hook mine around hers.
I look at her. “How are we going to do that?”
Mary Ann shakes her head like now I’m the one who doesn’t get it. “We need to stop talking and start promising!”
I shake my head. “I don’t see how …”
I was going to say that I don’t see how we could figure out something as big as both getting on the show, but Mary Ann stops me. She hooks my pinky in hers and shakes them up and down.
“Mallory, don’t worry,” she says. “Everything will work out fine. It always does when we make a pinky swear.”
I nod. I try to imagine Mary Ann and me in New York. Seeing the sights. Modeling on the Fashion Fran show. But it’s hard.
I know we made a pinky swear. But this time, I’m just not sure that’s going to make everything work out.
I don’t know why I was so worried about what happens if one of us wins the Design Your Dream Outfit contest. So far, it doesn’t look like either one of us is going to win this contest.
It has been exactly two weeks and four days since Fashion Fran announced her Design Your Dream Outfit contest. For the last two weeks and four days, I have been designing outfits and Mary Ann has been designing outfits.
We have been working on our designs every afternoon after school and on the weekends. We’ve hardly left my room.
The problem is … so far, none of our outfits look very dreamy.
Now it’s crunch time. We only have three days to go before the contest is over.
I rip a sheet of paper out of the sketch pad I’ve been drawing in and crumple it into a ball. I toss it toward the trash can next to my desk. It misses and lands on my floor, next to the large pile of other wadded-up papers already on my floor.
Mary Ann leans back against the pillows on my bed and blows a piece of hair off her forehead. She tosses her sketch pad on the ground. “I give up.”
“C’mon. We can’t give up.” I rub my head, which is what I do when I’m doing my most serious thinking. “We need to focus,” I say.
Mary Ann snorts. “We’ve been focusing. I’m sick of focusing.”
I pick up her sketch pad and hand it back to her. “Let’s give it one more try. We just need to design the perfect outfit that we both would want to wear.”
Mary Ann nods like she’ll try, but she’s not as into it as she was two weeks and four days ago.
I hand her a pencil, and we both flip to clean pages in our sketchbooks.
I really want to do a good job. I really want to win this contest.
I draw a model body. Then I put a pair of skinny jeans on the model.
Mary Ann looks over at my drawing. “Those look good,” she says. She draws a long skirt on her model.
I don’t love long skirts, but maybe Mary Ann will draw something cute on top.
“Your turn,” she says.
I look at the jeans I drew. I draw a tunic top with flowing sleeves. I add little bits of lace around the neck and wrists.
“Nice!” says Mary Ann. She draws a vest with fringe to go above the skirt.
“Like it?” she asks.
I purse my lips and rub my head. “I’m not sure I do.”
I’m trying to decide what it is that I don’t like about it, but Mary Ann waves her hand at me. She doesn’t seem to care if I like it or not. “Keep drawing,” says Mary Ann. I can tell all she wants to do is finish the designs.
I add an armful of bracelets and a beaded necklace to my drawing.
Mary Ann adds a studded belt to hers.
I add some boots.
Mary Ann adds ballet flats.
I look at my drawing. I’m really happy with it. I hold it up so Mary Ann can get a good look. “What do you think?” I ask. I wait for Mary Ann to smile and say she loves it.
But Mary Ann frowns. “I don’t know,” she says. “Something is missing.”
I study the model I drew. Part of me thinks Mary Ann doesn’t like my drawing because I said I didn’t like hers. But another part of me agrees with her. Something is definitely missing.
Suddenly I have a great idea. I add a big cowboy hat, oversized sunglasses, and long hair with bangs.
“Does hair count as part of the outfit?” Mary Ann asks.
“It’s a wig!” I explain.
Mary Ann frowns again. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I like the hat and the glasses. Do you really think you need all that?”
I study my design for a long time.
“I really think I need it,” I say to Mary Ann. I’m not sure why, but I just have a feeling I do.
“OK,” Mary Ann finally says like she’s still not 100% sure she agrees with me, but she’ll go along with it anyway.
I smile at her. “I guess I’m done!”
“Me too!” says Mary Ann.
I study her design. It’s good, but it could use a little something extra. “Do you think you need to add something else?” I ask.
Mary Ann shakes her head like her design is fine the way it is. She takes a coffee mug of colored pencils off of my desk an d hands it to me. “Time to start coloring.”
When we’re done, we write our names and addresses on top of our designs and slip them carefully into envelopes. Then we add stamps and lick them shut. We carefully copy Fran’s address on the outside of our envelopes.
I take a deep breath. I’m tired, but I’m excited too. “I guess we’re finished,” I say.
Mary Ann shakes her head. “Not yet. We still have one more thing to do.”
She pulls me by my arm as she walks outside. She stops in front of my mailbox.
“Put it in,” says Mary Ann.
I take a deep breath. “Do you think there’s any chance one of us will win?” I’m sure a lot of people are entering this contest.
Mary Ann looks at me like a teacher looking down at a student over the rim of her glasses, even though she isn’t wearing any. “I think we have as good a chance as anybody.”
She takes the envelope out of my hand and lays both envelopes carefully in the mailbox. “We’ll never know if we don’t send them in,” says Mary Ann. Then she crosses her fingers for luck. “Off they go,” she says with a smile.
I cross my fingers too. “Off they go,” I say back.
Then I plop down on the ground. Now all we have to do is wait and see what happens.
Fact #1: For the past four weeks, Mary Ann and I have been spending a lot of time by our mailboxes.
Fact #2: My brother, Max, says all the time we’ve been spending by our mailboxes has been wasted time. He says there’s no way either one of us is going to win any contest.
Fact #3: George, the mail carrier, arrives in approximately ten minutes.
“Hopefully today will be our lucky day,” says Mary Ann. She plops down on the ground under my mailbox.
I plop down beside her. We’ve been waiting so long to get a letter from Fashion Fran saying one of us won the Design Your Dream Outfit contest. At first, I was worried about what would happen if one of us won. Now, I just hope one of us does. I’m sure we could figure out a way to both go on the show. I really want today to be our lucky day, but maybe my brother is right. Maybe we aren’t going to win anything.
Mary Ann grabs my arm and points down the street. “Here comes George!”
He stops his truck in front of our house. “Good afternoon, girls.” George smiles at us and pulls out a stack of mail. He hands it to me. He hands the next pile to Mary Ann.
When Mary Ann and I first started waiting, we told George what we were waiting for. For the
first few weeks, he stayed while we looked through the mail to see if we got anything from Fashion Fran.
I guess George got sick of waiting, because he doesn’t stay anymore.
After George drives off, Mary Ann and I start looking through our piles of envelopes.
Boring … lots of ads and bills. Mary Ann leans over my shoulder. “Nothing in mine. Did you get anything?” she asks.
I shake my head from side to side. “Just plain envelopes.” I keep flipping through the stack. When I flip to a shiny gold envelope, I stop. There’s something different about this envelope.
Mary Ann leans in like she senses there is something different too.
I drop the rest of the mail I’m holding and turn the envelope over. Mary Ann and I both see a New York City return address.
“It’s addressed to Miss Mallory McDonald.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Mallory, open it!” I can tell Mary Ann is trying to stay calm, but her voice sounds shaky.
I carefully pull back the flap on the envelope. Mary Ann and I both hold our breath as I pull out a thick sheet of gold paper. I’m almost too scared to look. Mary Ann grabs my arm. Slowly, I unfold the paper and start reading.
“You won!” Mary Ann grabs me. She starts screaming and jumping. “You won! You won! You won!”
I would scream and jump too, but I’m too shocked to scream or jump. I can’t believe I won.
When Mary Ann stops screaming, I unfold the letter to my parents. I start reading it out loud. Lots of stuff about hotels, plane tickets, addresses, and dates.
“Forget that!” says Mary Ann. “You won and we get to be on the Fashion Fran show!”
Mary Ann is my lifelong best friend.
We do everything together.
We paint our toenails the same color.
We chew the same kind of gum.
We like the same TV show.
We wear matching pajamas.
We say things three times.
We’ve gone together on vacations and to summer camp.
And we have a pile of scrapbooks that we made together.
Mallory and Mary Ann Take New York Page 1