She sipped her drink again. “That must be awkward. Does she know you and Ethan are done? She might keep hiring his brother and that’s going to make it harder for you. When family’s involved with your ex,” she made an eek face. “Not good. Then again, his brother is cute. Maybe your abuela is sweet on the pool boy.”
I coughed and shook my head violently. The sole nongreasy portion of bread stuck in my throat, causing me to cough harder. This was not going well.
“I was kidding!” Des said laughing. “Please don’t be offended, even though I just accused your sweet abuela of wanting to get down with a teen pool cleaner. Hey—don’t Ethan and his brother go to your prep school? Why does their family have one of them cleaning pools?”
I really wished we would have sat with Amy and the sundress girls, who were gathered by a fountain across the green and jamming to music on an iPhone. Probably talking about glass buttons versus plastic or Beyoncé’s inevitable world domination.
Des watched me for a second. “You did say Ethan volunteered at the animal shelter, right? It sounds like his parents expect he and his brother to work, then. That’s nice. My idea of them was probably too judgmental based on the kids I know at private schools in San Francisco.”
“No worries.” I crumpled my sandwich wrapper and used the last napkin to blot the cheese and bacon grease from my hands. Just as I swung my legs around to get up, Des told me to hang on.
“I hope I haven’t been judgmental toward you,” she said. “About the private school thing. Sometimes I get a little jealous of people who have more when my family’s store is struggling to stay in business. I’m lucky my aunt bought my plane ticket for New York.”
I lowered back to the grass. Des and I had so much in common, it hurt not to be completely straight with her. I could kick myself in the shins for ever letting Des or Amy assume I was a prep schooler myself. “You know, my mom’s been trying to start her own catering business. She keeps running into barriers. And … and of course she wants to keep me in school, so she puts it off even more.”
She kept her attention on her food. “And your dad? Is he …”
“Alive?” I nodded. “He lives in Texas. He has another family.” Telling her this didn’t bother me. It was a fact. My dad left before any memories of him formed. “We’ve never needed anything from my dad. We’re all good at home, the three of us.”
“What does your mom do?”
My insides froze. I could not tell her Mami worked part-time cleaning my supposed boyfriend’s house. The catering part was fine. “She works with different businesses, you know? They call her.”
“Like a consultant?”
“Yes!” That sounded like a job that could afford to pay for prep school. “How about your family?”
Des talked about weekends working in her parents gift shop. Road trips up the California coast when her aunt came to visit. Parties with her cousins. Common factors in our upbringings threaded through a lot of her stories. Every memory Des shared, her trust in me seemed to grow, while I held back more and more of myself. Pretending Ethan was my boyfriend wasn’t nearly as innocent as I initially figured. I wished I could tell her the truth—we were more alike than that. I wasn’t rich, I went to public school, and Ethan had never been mine. But tracing back through the half-truths would ruin everything Des and I built up.
It was too late. I was already too far in.
“No way, Amelia. You are not going to the workroom tonight.” Desiree derailed my detour to the main building, leading me back into the dormitory lounge. “Tonight is not a work night. It’s a fun night.”
I was about tapped out of fun. After an entire day sightseeing, including a sample sale where mad-crazy shoppers descended on liquidated boutique-wear, we’d watched fireworks from the roof of the school. They were amazing and perfect and just how I’d wanted to spend the holiday. (Maybe a touch more perfect had the moment been shared with a certain someone who happened to be a thousand miles south of me.)
“My gown still needs a ton of work,” I told Desiree. It needed serious attention if I was ever going to allow it on a runway, school function or not.
Des folded her arms. “May I remind you, you’re in PJs and trying to walk out into the streets of New York.”
“I’m sure it would be fine.” We’d already seen a fire-breathing cowboy in tighty whities and a lady painted entirely in metallic gold, and that was just tonight. I sighed. “Whose brilliant idea was it, anyway, to have a pajama party in the lounge?” I reluctantly followed her in, clutching my pillow (in which I’d stuffed my design notebook and a flat case with my favorite scissors and pincushion, just in case). She was probably right about skipping the workroom. The door was likely locked, and it was already almost eleven at night.
“Come on in!” Jimmy pointed to two bowls overflowing with popcorn sitting among a mountain of snacks. Someone had seriously raided the nearby convenience store.
I was actually surprised how many of us stuck around at the dorm instead of going out. Not all of the students were here, but enough of us to make it seem like a real party—in pajamas.
The lounge TV was turned to a Celebrity Houseboat marathon. I’d seen all the episodes already. I’d sewn and stuffed an entire set of decorative pillows for our living room while watching the last one.
Des pulled me over to an area by a few girls I didn’t know by name. She’d been making efforts all day to talk to more people. Amy, in a robe with a sword-wielding elf on the back, set herself upright from her sprawled-out position on the floor. “Hey everybody. Let’s dish. Who here is in a relationship?”
Des raised her hand. “Boyfriend. A year and six months.”
“Wow,” Avery, the YouTube queen, said from her spot on a couch behind us. “The longest I’ve dated anyone was eight months. Getting over him took twice as long.”
“That’s a thing, you know.” Amy ripped open a bag of licorice and passed the snacks around. “They say getting over someone takes the length of your relationship times two.”
“I thought it was half the length,” I said. According to Cosmo Girl.
“Or one week for every month you were together,” Des added. “Any way you slice it, breaking up sucks.”
“Especially when the guy dumps you.” Amy eyed me. “Right?”
It took me a few extra seconds to get her meaning. “Right.”
Tess climbed over the back of the couch and squeezed between Avery and a pile of pillows. “Well, I’m single. I like my life that way. All my friends are in relationships and they become so boring. They stop wanting to go out. They want to stay in and watch movies.”
Avery nudged her. “We’re doing that right now. We’re staying in.”
“Yeah, but I’m exhausted. I walked ten miles today in mules.” She kicked up a leg revealing a swollen foot streaked red with blisters where her sandals rubbed her skin raw.
“Come on, now!” Jimmy waved her foot away. “Let’s get back to talking relationships. Not misguided footwear choices.”
“Confession.” Amy blew out an exaggerated breath. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“Really?” I asked.
Amy pulled her ponytail loose and shook her hair out. “I’m the sort of girl who’s friends with guys, but things never go further. I’m like the sidekick. I have these amazing friends who get all the guys’ attention.”
“How about you, Amelia?” Avery asked. “Anyone in your life?”
“Avery!” Amy gestured for her to stop talking.
“Now this I want to hear about,” Jimmy said, reaching for the popcorn.
I wrapped my blanket around me, even though the AC wasn’t exactly blasting. “It’s not a big deal. We’re on the outs.” I glanced at Des. “Over. More like over.”
“What happened?” Avery pressed.
I tried to look normal and not like I invented these details on the spot. Then again, I had a lot of material to draw from. I chose one of my favorite daydreams, where Ethan and I
would walk the estate grounds to take in the air (very Pride and Prejudice), and he’d confess his long-simmering love for me and ask me to prom. “He was more into me at first,” I said, attaching myself to the daydream. Envisioning Ethan’s warm hand clasping mine. His little jagged tooth. “We made plans for prom but then …” What? I couldn’t fathom breaking up with Ethan Laurenti. Thinking of him ending my happily ever after—unthinkable. “Well, I got sick and couldn’t go.”
“Aw! You missed prom?” Amy said. “You love prom. How sad!”
“He made it up to you, right?” Avery asked.
“Of course. We went to a really nice dinner later.”
Amy leaned forward, her attention fully focused. “But still, to miss something you were so into going to. You should see the prom inspiration boards Amelia has online,” she said to the others. She dug out her phone.
“I’m sure no one cares about last year’s prom trends.” I had to restrain myself from lunging at her before she pulled up my profile. At least the prom boards were mostly secret boards only I could see. Well, at least the really embarrassing ones. “There’s always next year. I’m going into junior year, so plenty more chances for prom.”
Avery leaned her elbows on her knees, her long hair swinging down in front of her. “I’m just saying, it’s essential for whoever you’re dating to notice what you care about. If they don’t make an effort to know your passions, to get to know that side of you, then you might as well be hanging out as friends. Or he’s using you. That’s what my therapist says.”
Well, Ethan definitely wasn’t using me. We’d barely spent any real time together. That was what this summer was supposed to be. Spending time with Ethan would make it obvious to him what I was into.
Only now I was nowhere near Miami, and nowhere near Ethan.
I looked around at my new friends, now tossing popcorn at Jimmy for some reason I’d missed. I liked being here. I loved learning about fashion, and seeing the sights in New York, and working with new fabrics every day. But I couldn’t help wondering what was happening back home.
CHAPTER NINE
My gown now had a fully constructed bodice. It fit the dress form a little loose, since the measurements were based on a real person. A model—my model, who would wear the dress in our intern finale runway show. I surveyed the dress from every angle. The skirt was still pinned, but it looked like an actual garment. The extra hours I’d spent in the workroom were paying off.
One of the associate professors in fashion design stopped to inspect my work. “Excellent. You’re really catching on to the methods we learned today. Nice work.”
Her comment scrubbed off a layer of insecurity that began peeling at the corners last week. I could tell I was making progress, not just with the gown, but with my skills in general.
The rest of the afternoon I itched to return to my project, impatience tugging at me like waiting on school to let out for the day. Half the internship was over. I felt like I’d been in New York for months, but at the same time the days were flying by.
After a quick dinner in the cafeteria, I set off to the workroom. Tess and Avery stopped me by the elevator.
“We’re taking you out tonight,” Tess announced, and grabbed my hands.
“Hey, I’ve got work to do!”
Tess’s hair was spiked and ready to go. “We’re in New York City in the summer. You work too much.”
“Um, it’s kind of what we’re here for.” I kept my tone light and playful as I squirmed out of her grasp.
She sighed. “It’s okay, really. We’re allowed to leave. We write our names on the sign-out sheet and come back by eleven. Or maybe after eleven.” A wicked grin surfaced.
I didn’t want to squander any time I should be using to make my dress project great. On Project Runway, the designers worked long hours and didn’t go off places to do whatever Tess was trying to convince me to do.
Avery, rocking a gorgeous smoky eye with iridescent shimmer, looked at me with as serious an expression as I’d seen from her. “Amelia. Seriously. You need to have some fun.”
People really needed to stop reminding me to have fun. “Making clothes is fun.”
“And you need breaks.” Avery waved to Des, who stood at the cafeteria entrance looking over at us. “We’re going out. You should come.”
Desiree walked over. “No, I’ll pass. You should go, Amelia.”
I felt weird agreeing to go without Des. We’d done just about everything together so far. “What will you do instead?”
She looked at her phone. “I was going to call my boyfriend.”
“How long does that take?” Tess peeked in between us like a puppet, her hair pointed in every direction. “Come on, both of you.”
Des gave me a look: You go. I’m staying.
I challenged her with my own look: You could use a break, too.
Des: Really? You’re making me go out?
Me: Yes. Come on.
“All right,” Tess announced. “Whatever this secret twin language is here, translate it into: yes, we’re both coming.”
Amy waited for the four of us in the lobby. “Ready?” She was wearing one of Avery’s sundresses, but she wore it Amy-style, by pairing it with her furry boots, a dozen plastic necklaces, a necktie, and a fedora.
We stepped outside into wall of humidity. I could hear my hair expand. As I mashed it down, Amy set her hat on my head.
“Oh, hats definitely work on you. You need to be in more hats.”
I caught my reflection in a store window. Mysterious.
Live music spilled into the street from a nearby shop. Cyclists flew past, and a group of students laughed behind us. The air crackled with summer energy, as vibrant as when I looked out our dorm window, but now I breathed it in at the ground level.
“So where are we going?” Des asked.
Tess turned to walk backward, her step light and loose. “A music festival. It’s at one of the museums. Deejays and dance music mostly. All ages.”
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the museum. Techno music drifted down from a higher level, a rooftop maybe. Avery passed a wad of cash to the guy at the door. “How much do I owe you?” I asked her after we passed through.
“On me. Daddy’s paying.”
We emerged to an outdoor area packed with people. A DJ worked the turntables on an elevated stage, throwing her fist in the air when the beat dropped in. Above and around us, buildings reached into the sky. A secret plaza tucked inside high castle walls. Well, not exactly secret with hundreds of dancers, but the party itself was like a surprise that no one would suspect at street level.
Around us, the canvas of the crowd exploded in color and style. It was like fashion school homework being here. Street style fashion blogs could find content for weeks!
Tess and Avery were already moving into the crowd. Amy looked back at Des and I before disappearing herself.
Des gripped my arm. “Don’t leave me!” Sweat beaded along her hairline. Her eyes darted.
I squeezed her hand. “I won’t.”
She moved back against a wall by a collection of potted planters. “When Tess said this was at a museum, I was thinking a DJ playing moody music in a quiet gallery while we looked at abstract art.”
A couple spiraled off the dance floor and spun directly into us. Des yelped and inched closer into the cover of plants.
I turned so I could block Des from the couple who were now making out like their lives depended on it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Do you want to leave?”
Des folded into herself and stared at the mosaic stone patio floor. “No.” She looked completely miserable.
I sighed. “I’m being serious. We can go. It’s okay.”
Des shook her head and continued to collect dust standing in the corner. It was hard to see her like this, as if her personality split into two unequal sections, this part so fragile and fearful. Completely the opposite of her confidence about fashion and business.
I pe
ople watched for a few minutes, sticking close to Des. “Isn’t it crazy what some people can get away with wearing? Overalls and neon. I would look terrible in that, but it’s cute on that girl over there.”
“A bold look, for sure.”
“I made a New York City board on my profile. I’ve been pinning memorable New York stuff there as sort of a photo album. I bet we could find some really awesome outfits to take pictures of tonight.”
She unfolded her arms but didn’t move from her post. She pointed. “That guy. Love his hair.”
I tried to covertly snap a picture of him, but to get the awesomeness, I’d have to move closer. “Want to come with me to ask him if I can take his picture?”
Des narrowed her eyes. She took in a breath. “Yeah, okay.” She pushed off from the wall, keeping her arms close at her sides.
“Excuse me?” I said to the guy. His hair was shaved close on one side and long on the other with jagged ends. It didn’t hurt he was also really, really hot. Like, probably a skateboarder and for sure in a band hot. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. No, I could. I was doing this. I did this in Times Square for our fake blog project. “Hi. I’m a fashion student at NYFI. I was wondering if I could take your picture for my photo blog. I’ll give you credit of course, and link back to you.”
His gaze scanned from me to Des and back again. His chin pitched up. “Sure.” He then slouched into himself and tilted his head a fraction to the left. His expression shifted to broody. I snapped three pictures. This guy was good.
Des and I scampered back to the protection of plant cover, giggling over the photos.
“Did you see how smooth he was with that look?” She swiped my screen to see the first picture again. “Maybe he’s a model.”
“If he was a model, he probably would have told us to contact his agent.” In my measurement session with the model who would wear my project dress, she talked the entire time about her agent. Hearing the business side of modeling sort of downgraded the fantasy aspect.
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