by Chloe Taylor
Kate dried her eyes with the hem of her cover-up. “That chalkboard dress was really cool.”
Priti nodded. “Ooh, yeah, I liked that too.”
“If only they made chalkboard material . . . ,” said Zoey. “Maybe I can use chalkboard paint.”
“Or the dress made of ties,” said Priti. “Maybe go with something like that.”
“Do you have enough ties?” asked Kate.
Zoey laughed. “Oh, you haven’t seen my dad’s closet,” she said. “Plus, they’re ten for a dollar at the thrift store. The hard part is sewing them all together. . . . The orange skirt might be more fun, anyway. Ugh!” Zoey threw back her head and let out a groan.
“What?” Kate and Priti both asked.
“This back-to-school thing. It just hit me that it’s coming so fast. There’s so much more I want to do. . . .”
Priti sighed and looked at Kate and put her book down next to her. She took Zoey’s hand and pulled her up. “Come. You need a dip in the pool!” she said.
- - - - Chapter 6 - - - -
Back to School
The last few weeks of summer were a total blur. What happened? Now it’s the night before school and my big debut. So here it is: the back-to-school look that you, the Sew Zoey followers, voted on. . . . And while I hate to state the obvious, bravo, guys! You have excellent taste, if I say so myself. You totally chose my favorite combination! I’d be happy to never see my old uniform again, but it’s kind of cool to “reclaim” that old tie and give it a new, fashionable life. (I believe in English last year, Mrs. Gimmel called it “appropriation.” See, Mrs. G.? I was paying attention, after all.)
So now that the outfit is all figured out, I have a confession to make: I, all of a sudden, got seriously crazy-jittery about tomorrow. I’ve had a bunch of first days before—first day of camp, first day of kindergarten, etc.—but this first day is freaking me out a little. It’s the first day of a really big first impression. I don’t usually care so much what the other kids think, but really, deep down, I hope they like the outfit as much as you do. Is that silly? Anyway, thanks for listening/reading/whatever.
Okay! Ten hours to fashion liftoff and counting . . . Wish me luck!
Zoey stood in front of her mirror inspecting her outfit for the umtillionth time. The problem was, the more she looked, the more sick her stomach felt. She was just realizing something that morning that anyone who’d ever lived to tell the tale about middle school should have known: Styling the perfect look was one thing . . . but actually wearing it to Mapleton Prep on the first day of school was something else.
Where were all those Sew Zoey followers right now when she really needed them? she thought. Where was Coco24/7 to tell her that making a skirt with the seams inside out was truly inspired? Where was Fashionsista to push her to keep practicing pleating until she got the hang of it for next time? Where were Kate and Priti, for that matter, to remind her it was she, after all, who started the petition to get rid of school uniforms?
Right now it was just Zoey and the mirror, and neither one was saying much. Instead, nerve-racking thoughts filled Zoey’s head. Thoughts, specifically, about Ivy Wallace and all the other people like her at school. There weren’t a lot of them, thank goodness. But it didn’t take more than one to ruin your whole day. And while Zoey hadn’t had any more run-ins at the pool with Ivy and her crew, she knew it was mostly because Marcus was there and Ivy seemed to be under the delusion that she had a chance with him. At school, there’d be no Marcus to bring out her fake, friendly side.
“Zoey, honey, you’re going to miss the bus!” Dad’s voice shot straight through Zoey’s door from the base of the stairs.
“I’m coming,” she called. “Just a sec.”
She took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach, then squared her shoulders and inventoried her outfit once again.
Tie belt? Check.
Orange skirt with inside-out seams? Check.
Turquoise top? Check
Polka-dotted leggings? Check.
Marcus’s old high-tops? Check.
Purple shoelaces? Check.
Crippling doubts and anxiety? Check and double check.
Bam-bam. A fist drummed on her door, and Zoey opened it with a sigh.
“Hey, Zo, I just wanted to say bye, I’m off. Good luck at school to— Whoa.”
Marcus’s face froze for a second in a complicated combo of surprise and disbelief. He started to say something, then he stopped. He cocked his head to the side and pointed at her outfit.
“School?”
Zoey nodded. “Uh-huh. First day of no uniforms. So I made it, um, myself.”
“Wow.” He nodded back, though he still didn’t quite seem to understand.
“Is it that bad? I look like a freak, don’t I?” muttered Zoey. She fiddled with the belt.
“What? No.” Marcus shook his head. “You look awesome,” he told her. “I mean, I’m no fashion expert or anything, but I think you look totally cool . . . and totally you.”
“So, you don’t think I’ll stand out too much?”
“Uh, no.” Marcus exhaled a laugh. “I didn’t say that.”
“Ohhh . . .” Zoey hung her head.
“But hey, who cares?” Marcus went on. “Who said there’s anything wrong with standing out?”
“Nobody,” mumbled Zoey, remembering how she’d said practically the same thing to Priti and Kate. “I’m just not used to doing it at school.”
“Well, maybe you should get used to it,” he replied bluntly. “Hey, are those my old shoes?”
Zoey looked up and started to smile just as Marcus’s phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down. “Oh, gotta run. Sorry, Zo. James is giving me a ride, and he’s waiting out front.” He turned and made for the stairs, then for a split second he spun back around. “Hey, Zo, if you’re not comfortable, change. But don’t do it for anyone but yourself.”
Zoey watched him go, and she couldn’t help thinking how great her brother was, as far as brothers go. Of course, it was easy for someone who looked like him to say “just be yourself.” He could probably wear a bathrobe to school and no one would say a thing.
Zoey was proud of the clothes she made and was honestly a little excited to show them off. But was she completely comfortable actually wearing them? Not so much. At least not today.
Suddenly Zoey knew what she needed. She moved toward her closet and solemnly slid the doors apart. Then she reached for the hangers that she kept way, way back, out of sight.
“Hi, Mom,” Zoey said softly. “I wish you were here. I mean, I wish you were here all the time . . . but especially today. And I was thinking I could borrow something of yours for good luck.”
There! She spotted a cardigan on one of the hangers. It was pink and slightly frayed. Zoey recognized it from pictures of her mom in art school. It had a few splotches of paint and smears of bright pastels—as if she wore it all the time. And when Zoey slipped it on over her shirt, she felt like she was getting a big hug.
Then she looked in the mirror again.
And this time she smiled back. It was the perfect finishing touch.
“Zoey!”
“Coming, Dad!” she called.
Her dad was standing there by the front door with a cold pancake in his hand. His eyes popped the instant he saw her, and his eyebrows slid up his forehead. Zoey stopped on the stairs and raised her chin and put her hands on her hips.
“Well, what do you think?”
Her dad’s eyes darted across her outfit until they landed on her mom’s cardigan. His eyes softened and he smiled. “You look great. Really great, Zo, honey.”
The first test, thought Zoey, would be the bus. She held her breath as she climbed on. She waited for the first stinging comments . . . but surprisingly, they didn’t come. Instead, she got a smile from Ms. Stern, the bus driver, who was anything but stern. She was dressed up herself for the first day of school in what looked like a brand-new T-shirt from her summer vaca
tion in Maine. It was white and had a big red lobster on it and said I (LOBSTER) MAINE with a lobster where the heart would go.
“Liking this no-more-uniform thing, huh, Zoey?” Ms. Stern grinned. “Looking good!”
“Thanks!” Zoey told her. “You too!”
The driver waved her back and Zoey hurried to take a seat, and still, Zoey couldn’t believe it, there wasn’t a peep. No looks. No giggles. No swiveling stares. Just five boys with their heads bowed down intently over their phones, playing games. And that was it until Kate hopped on at the next stop, two blocks away. Zoey was way too surprised at Kate’s outfit, however, to even talk about her own.
“What happened to the stuff you got?” asked Zoey.
Instead of the dress Zoey had found for Kate at the mall, Kate was wearing a plain white shirt with a little embroidery on the neckline.
“And the jeans?” Zoey eyed Kate’s blue Bermuda shorts.
“What can I say? My mom didn’t think they were ‘appropriate’ for the first day, and you know I can’t argue with her. But look!” Kate lifted a foot to show off her new tan-and-blue skater shoes. “I’m wearing those shoes that you like. See?”
Zoey nodded and had to chuckle.
“Besides,” Kate went on, checking out Zoey’s outfit, “you look amazing!”
“It isn’t too much?” asked Zoey.
“Are you kidding? It’s just right,” Kate replied. “And I really love the cardigan. Is that new? What a great touch! Oh look,” she said. “We’re here. Ugh, school. I can’t wait for it to be summer again. Just nine more months, starting now . . .”
Before they knew it, the bus was groaning to a stop in front of their school, where a pretty blond woman was greeting students—in an adorable retro coral suit with three-quarter-length sleeves and big cloth-covered buttons on the jacket.
“Good morning.” She held out a manicured hand first to Kate, then to Zoey as they walked up. Her nail polish had a touch of sparkle, Zoey noticed. “Welcome back!” she said. “I’m Ms. Austen, your new principal.”
Ms. Austen? Ms. Esther Austen?
Wow, thought Zoey. This wasn’t the old principal she expected at all!
“Hi, I’m Kate Mackey. Nice to meet you,” Kate said, politely shaking hands and moving on.
“I’m Zoey. Zoey Webber,” Zoey said when her turn came. “Is that suit vintage?”
The new principal laughed, clearly startled. “Why, yes . . . it is,” she said. “My mother used to wear it in the sixties.”
“I love mod,” Zoey informed her. “It’s my all-time favorite fashion era.”
“Really? Mine too.” Ms. Austen laughed and gave Zoey’s hand an extra pump. This stirred up a faint but clear scent of honeysuckle, which floated straight to Zoey’s nose.
Mmm. All Zoey could think was how different this principal was from Mrs. Hammerfall, their old one, who probably hadn’t smiled since around the same time as Ms. Austen’s mom bought her coral suit.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Zoey. I think we’re all going to have a great year. And I have to say, I’m happy to see that you seem excited to say good-bye to those old uniforms as well.”
She cast a quick look up and down Zoey, full of approval and support, then gracefully shifted her smile to the next students walking up.
Zoey ran on to join Kate, who was waiting for her just outside the big front doors. She fiddled with her belt so it would sit just right.
“She’s nice, huh?” said Kate.
“She’s amazing,” Zoey said. “Has there ever been a more awesome first day of school?”
As soon as she walked through the doors, however, she knew she’d spoken too soon.
The stares started immediately. The snickers right after that. The whispering . . . the pointing . . . It all came rolling in fast and furious like one of those muggy late August thunderstorms.
“What are you wearing?” a boy needled her as she passed him in the hall.
Zoey looked down and Kate linked her elbow.
“Just ignore him,” Kate said, leading her on. “Besides, what does he know about fashion?”
Zoey tried—though what she wanted to do, really, was ask everyone the same thing. What were they wearing? Huh? Hadn’t they gotten the letter that summer? There were no more uniforms! They didn’t all have to dress alike anymore. It was cool to see that girl, Kendra, who had on a tribal-patterned dress and hot pink flats. And a guy from her math class last year had a cool skater look. But most kids were wearing the same thing: polo shirts, khakis, jeans, and tank tops. Zoey was really surprised . . . and then she remembered that standing out from the crowd was kind of scary. It made her want to crawl inside her locker to escape the stares from the other kids.
It wasn’t just the students who made her self-conscious, though. Zoey hadn’t even found a desk in first period social studies before the teacher was cracking a joke.
“What do we have here?” declared the bow-tied teacher, Mr. Dunn. “Halloween is in October, dear.”
Zoey tried to laugh it off.
The rest of the morning, unfortunately, went pretty much the same.
In between second and third periods, she took out her phone to text Priti and Kate for moral support.
What was I thinking? she typed.
Priti replied first. Stay strong, Zo!
Yeah! All the Sew Zoey readers can’t be wrong! Kate added.
Sure enough, when she checked the blog there were dozens of readers’ comments wishing her well on her first day and saying her outfit was adorable! After that Zoey did her best to drape a thin but sturdy shrug of I don’t care around her shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, in the future she’d tame her look a bit, she thought. But the chances of her dressing like everyone else in her school were slim to none.
Zoey knew better than to think lunch would offer her any relief from the gawks and the jeers. But she wasn’t the only one, it seemed, having a rough first day.
There was a new girl. Zoey had noticed her in art class that morning. She was hard to miss. She was taller than even Kate by several inches and wore her cinnamon-colored hair in a short bob. What had most intrigued Zoey, though, was the way that she was dressed. She stood out more than anyone at Mapleton Prep in her short, lime-green overalls. Zoey had actually wanted to ask her where she got them. (They reminded Zoey of something she read in the June issue of Très Chic about big-name designers who also design for kids.) They weren’t exactly Zoey’s thing, but on the new girl they looked pretty cute.
The girl already had a tray and seemed to be looking for a seat. Zoey didn’t know if she’d walked up to Ivy’s table looking for one, but if she had, she’d clearly made a serious mistake.
“Look, it’s the Jolly Green Giant!” said Ivy.
Bree appreciatively snorted, spraying her milk all over the place.
“Look out!” Ivy snapped, trying to dodge the spray. But she quickly refocused. “Where’d you get those overalls? Old MacDonald’s farm?”
The new girl took a step back, speechless. Zoey could see her eyes fill with tears.
“What’s your problem, Ivy? I mean, give her a break. She’s new. Besides . . .” Zoey turned to the new girl. “Those overalls are totally cute.”
“Yeah, right!” Ivy rolled her eyes, then fired them at Zoey. Zoey could tell she was trying to pick the most vulnerable place to sink her fangs. “Maybe you should worry about yourself, Zoey. What’s with the boy’s shoes?”
“Ew!” Zoey had wondered if Shannon would join in, and sure enough, she did. “Maybe we should call her Joey instead of Zoey,” she said.
Zoey’s whole body tensed. Her mouth was dry. There was a comeback somewhere inside it . . . but it wasn’t coming out. What was close to coming out, though, was a hot, angry tear . . . or two, or twenty. Zoey swallowed and gripped her tray tighter and decided it was time to move.
“Oh . . . whatever,” she said hoarsely. Then she turned to the new girl. “C’mon. I’m Zoey. You can come sit with
me and my friends.”
- - - - Chapter 7 - - - -
Back FROM School
Well, thanks, everyone, for all your messages. I have to say they were nice to see—especially after what turned out to be a real roller coaster of a day. Yes, maybe I got a few more What are you wearing? looks than You look so amazing! compliments, and there was a certain teacher, who shall remain nameless (and whose name rhymes with Attila the Hun), who couldn’t resist making a joke. And the “usual suspects” had to say something, of course, but I was expecting that.
Honestly, though, there were some high highs and some low lows. I’m glad it’s over! But it also helped me realize something that I guess I always knew: I don’t want to be like everyone else. I just want to be me, and if that means getting a little bit of heat in middle school, I think I can handle it.
It sure helps having my own personal cheerleading team online! I couldn’t have gotten through it without you. Where did you all come from? I saw the other day that my blog traffic is up to three hundred unique visitors a day. I don’t even know that many people in real life! I have two best friends, but you made me feel like I have three hundred more friends when I really needed them. Thanks!
Now I guess I have to get back on the horse. I haven’t picked out my outfit for tomorrow yet, but here’s a sketch of an outfit I came up with earlier today, when I was considering leaving school and moving to a desert island. Don’t worry, I got over it!
Of course, Zoey didn’t design a whole new outfit for every day of school. But she never went out the door in the morning without carefully thinking through everything she wore. It was like homework: What was the point of doing it if you turned it in without your name? What was the point of getting dressed, she decided, if it didn’t at least kind of match who she was? The tough thing was, she wasn’t exactly sure who she was yet, or at least what her style was. Half the fun was playing around with it and trying new looks and finding new inspiration!
And yes, there were definitely times when she wished she hadn’t mixed so many plaids and checked fabrics in one outfit. Or forgotten she had gym before picking out a dress that took major maneuvering to get on and off in the locker room. But never, not once, was she sorry that she felt like her true self in her clothes. And besides, for every snarky jab she got from Ivy, Shannon, or Bree, there were comments from other kids that were complimentary.