by Chloe Taylor
There was one other tiny difference also, which Priti was the first to point out.
“Look, Zoey! There’s a tag inside!” she said.
Sure enough, there was.
Libby read it for her. “It says ‘Sew Zoey.’ So cool!”
“I’m confused,” said Ms. Austen. “Is this the dress that was ruined? Was it cleaned?”
Zoey looked up at her and shook her head. “No. That dress is at home. . . .” What was left of it, at least. She’d actually torn the seams out and recut the pieces already to make a shoulder bag when she had more time. So . . . unless the dress changed fabrics and had its own time machine, this was definitely not the same one. “I think . . . I don’t know how . . . ,” Zoey went on, as much to herself as anyone else. “But I think someone made this for me.”
“You know what this means!” exclaimed Priti, reaching out to give Zoey a squeeze. “You don’t have to worry about that other dress now, Zoey. Libby can wear this one instead!”
“I’ll put it on right now!” said Libby. She reached for the hanger. But Zoey held on, looking unsure.
She looked up at Ms. Austen again. “Is that okay?” she slowly asked. “I mean, like I said, this isn’t actually the dress I made. . . . The only thing is, the second dress I brought in . . . well . . . you can see for yourself . . .” She nodded to the dress still in Libby’s hand, and Libby held it up.
“Ooh . . . yes . . . I see. . . .” Ms. Austen frowned, duly noting where it stopped. “Well, then, I guess you don’t have much choice. This is your design, right?” she asked Zoey.
Zoey smiled. “Oh definitely.”
“Well, not every designer sews every dress he or she makes,” said Ms. Austen. “Why should you live by different rules? Oh, look at that!” She checked her watch, then took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. “It’s almost showtime girls. I’d better get back out front. Have fun now!”
The next hour was a blur for Zoey—but this is what she knew for sure: The new dress fit Libby perfectly. Like a gold-trimmed, crimson-red glove.
“How do I look?” Libby asked.
“So great! So awesome!” Zoey said.
“You just need one thing.” Priti held up her finger. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
She reappeared in a second with a tube of lip gloss. “There!” She dabbed some on Libby and grinned. “Now you’re ready to go out there. . . . Oh! Am I up already? See you in a little while!”
Libby walked onto the stage a few minutes later—and Zoey wasn’t sure who was more nervous, Libby or her. But by the time she walked off to a round of applause, whoops, and cheers, they were both ready to do it again!
- - - - Chapter 12 - - - -
Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!
I don’t even know where to begin this post, aside from showing you a sketch of what I wore to the fashion show. Do I tell you all about how amazing the show was and fill you in on the deets? Or do I start off by saying, “Thank you, Fashionsista!” You’re my fashion fairy godmother! Honestly! Clearly I have to start with the latter, so here goes: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Again and again and again! And for those of you who are wondering, “What for?” I got the most amazing surprise today—and just in the nick of time. The dress I made out of a one-size-fits-all pattern was too short for Libby, and before I had a chance to freak out, I received an exact replica of my original dress in the mail. And, honestly, it looked a million bazillion times better than mine! (That’s probably why there was a bidding war and it got the highest bid of the whole night. And who was the big spender? None other than yours truly’s dear old dad!) I almost can’t believe the whole thing is over now—and here’s the craziest thing: Now that it is, I’m already holding my breath, waiting to do it again! Okay, I know, I’m crazy. But I never said that I wasn’t, now, did I? Uh-oh! Speaking of waiting, I’ve got to go. My friends are calling (hollering, actually). TTFN Zo
PS To anyone who’s dying to solve the Case of the Destroyed Dress, I’ve decided to let it go. I mean, even if someone ruined it, which I’m not saying they did, everything worked out fine in the end. But thanks for being in my corner! You’re the bestest web friends ever.
There. I just had to post that,” said Zoey, returning to Priti, Libby, and Kate. “Hey! Did you guys already eat all that popcorn? Thanks a lot!” she teased, eyeing the few kernels left in the bowl.
“Oops! Sorry,” said Libby.
“Well, you know what they say: You snooze, you lose,’ ” Priti joked. “Or ‘you blog, you lose’?”
“I guess we’ll just have to make some more,” said Kate cheerfully.
They were all gathered in Zoey’s bedroom, where they’d come straight from the fashion show for a slumber party. Zoey had begged her dad to let them sleep over, and there’d been no way he could say no. Zoey, of course, had to go online right away and post a quick update on her blog. She wanted especially for Fashionsista to read it and know how happy and grateful she was for her amazing gift. But now she was done and 100 percent ready to celebrate with her friends.
“Good idea!” she told Kate. She opened her door. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs. I don’t know why—maybe it’s because I was too nervous to eat dinner—but I’m really starving!” Zoey said.
They loped down to the kitchen, passing the family room where Zoey’s dad and Marcus were watching TV.
“Everything okay, girls?” her dad called out.
“Everything’s great, Dad!” Zoey told him.
In the kitchen, she found the popcorn and slipped a bag in the microwave while her friends plopped down on stools. There were four vases on the counter in front of them, each holding a big bouquet. The dahlias were from Aunt Lulu—from her garden, in fact. The gerbera daisies were from Dad and Marcus, and the tiger lilies were a surprise from Jan. The fourth bouquet, the roses, came with thanks from the Mapleton music department and was the same sunny orange as the ones on the desk in Ms. Austen’s office.
“Mmm.” Kate leaned in to smell each one, then suddenly she laughed.
“What?” Zoey asked.
“Oh, I was just remembering Ivy. . . . It’s not really that funny, but she did look silly when she tripped onstage!”
“Oh my gosh! I heard the whole auditorium gasp. What happened?” Priti asked.
Kate threw up her hands. “Who knows? One minute she’s limping across the stage in those platforms—and the next minute she’s stumbling toward the edge. She’s fine, though!” Kate said.
“That is what’s known as karma!” Priti said with a satisfied nod.
Beep-beep-beep!
The air in the kitchen thickened with buttery smells as the microwave timer went off.
Zoey popped open the door and grabbed the bag and tossed it in front of the other girls.
Priti picked it up, then promptly dropped it. “Ooh! That’s hot!” she gasped.
“Here, let me,” said Kate, taking the bag with two fingers and expertly prying it open. A salty cloud of steam burst out, and she leaned away as she dumped the bag into the bowl. “Yum!” She helped herself to a handful after blowing on it first. Then she paused, and her face began twisting as she tried to suck out a kernel wedged in one of the brackets. “I’ll be so glad when these braces are off and eating popcorn won’t be such an ordeal,” she said and groaned.
Libby reached for a kernel. “You know . . . ,” she said, “speaking of ordeals, I bet Ivy was still thinking about Zoey’s dress when she tripped. Kate, you should have seen her when Zoey took out the dress. I thought her makeup was going to melt off her face, she looked so upset!”
“And you didn’t see her when you put it on,” said Zoey. “You looked amazing, Libby.”
Libby blushed. “It was all the dress,” she said, waving the compliment away.
“Ah-hem.” Priti cleared her throat.
“And you looked great too, of course!” Zoey laughed.
“Thank you.” Priti nodded. “It was mostly the dress,” she joked. “B
ut, seriously, Zoey, don’t you want to know what happened?”
“Well, I really thought it was probably just bad luck and that no one was to blame,” Zoey said. “But that look on Ivy’s face said it all. After the show, I told her we needed to talk. She admitted it was her fault. . . .”
Priti, Libby, and Kate all gasped.
“But she also said it was a mistake, and I believe her,” Zoey said. Her friends sat there, entranced, eating popcorn mindlessly, as if they were watching a movie instead of listening to Zoey explain what happened. “She said she snuck into the room to get a peek at the dress. She was rushing to put it back in the garment bag and knocked over the can of paint. She didn’t know what to do, and she was too embarrassed to tell anyone.”
“I can’t believe it!” said Libby.
“Wow . . . ,” said Priti, after a rare moment of speechlessness.
Just then the phone rang. Zoey picked it up and heard a familiar voice. It was Ms. Austen. She put her finger in front of her mouth to hush her friends.
“Hello? Zoey?”
“Y-yes, hi, Ms. Austen,” Zoey stammered.
“Zoey, I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I just read your blog post, and, well, I had to talk with you about those last few lines. Did someone ruin your dress? If so, that’s not something I would want to let slide.”
“Oh. Well, not exactly,” Zoey said. “Besides, it all worked out, anyway.”
“Are you sure, Zoey?” Ms. Austen asked.
“Yes,” Zoey replied. “I’m sure.”
“If you change your mind, we can talk about it,” Ms. Austen said.
“Thanks, Ms. Austen.” Zoey hung up the phone.
Her friends were even more shocked than she was.
Libby was the first to speak. “That was your big chance to give Ivy what she deserved!”
“But it wasn’t on purpose,” Zoey said. “She was just too scared to tell anyone about it. And I think tripping onstage was bad enough.”
Libby nodded in agreement. It was the exact thing she’d said she was scared of doing on the runway.
“See? Pure karma!” said Priti as she walked over to the fridge to get a drink. “Anyway, let’s talk about something more fun. Who is this Fashionsista? That’s I want to know!”
“Yeah, we have to find out!” Kate said. “Hey, Priti, is that a Coke? Can I have one?”
Priti slid three cans across the island, one for each of her friends. “Do you think it’s that fabric store lady?” she said. “Hey, I bet it is! Don’t you?”
Zoey shrugged. Jan? “Huh . . . maybe,” she said. She knew Jan read her blog now . . . so it was possible.
“I bet Tara could find out,” said Priti. “She knows all that computer stuff. Want me to ask her?” she asked Zoey.
“I don’t know . . . ,” Zoey said. She helped herself to some popcorn and flipped the tab on her drink. “No . . . that’s okay,” she finally said.
It was kind of fun having a mysterious fairy godmother out there. And it was even more fun that she saved the day at Zoey’s first fashion show. But the most fun thing of all? That this was just the beginning . . . and the future was looking sew good.
Want to know sew much more?
Here’s a sneak peek at the next book in the Sew Zoey series:
on pins
and
needles
Plenty of Pom-Poms!
Three guesses where I’m going today—and the first two don’t count. The Eastern State University football game, you say? Congratulations! You are right! And, no, I am not wearing a “pom-pom dress.” It’s what I wish the ESU cheerleaders could be wearing instead of the same old uniforms they’ve been sporting ever since I’ve been going to their games. And that’s . . . let’s see . . . If I’m twelve years old . . . that means twelve years, approximately.
That probably sounds like I’m a huge, crazy football fan, doesn’t it? But I’m not really, so let me explain. If my dad didn’t work at ESU as a physical therapist for all the sports teams, trust me, I’d be at home sewing and sketching (and blogging!) on Saturdays instead of watching a football game—or basketball or baseball . . . You name it and we’re there. It’s not so bad, though, when my friends Kate and Priti come with, which they are today. Hooray!
If you’ll be there, look for us. I’ll be the one with the sketchbook—because you never know when inspiration will hit! Oh, and I’ll be wearing the top that I finally finished, which I blogged about yesterday. Some might think it’s a little fancy for a football game, but I think it’s just too cute not to wear right away. Too bad I didn’t make it Eagles colors—purple and yellow. Hmm. Those colors look pretty good together. Something to think about . . . !
TTFN. Go, Eagles!
(Did I really just say that?! OMG! I better go sew something, so I feel like myself again.)
“Here it comes!” said Priti Holbrooke. She pointed to the end of the football field.
“I see it.” Zoey Webber leaned forward and perched on the edge of the hard metal seat.
On her other side was Kate Mackey, whose big blue eyes were focused on the game. Zoey nudged her. “It’s coming. Get ready,” she said.
“What?” Kate turned to look. She groaned, but she was smiling as she leaned forward as well.
A second later, the wave reached them. They stood and threw their arms into the air: Kate’s long tan ones; Zoey’s pale, freckled ones; and Priti’s, which were cinnamon brown.
“Whooo!” Zoey yelled—not quite as loud as Priti, but close—then they all sat back down and watched the wave continue around.
“That’s fifteen!” Priti exclaimed. “How high do you think it’ll go?”
Kate glanced at the clock. “Well, it’s almost halftime, so it’ll have to stop pretty soon.”
Suddenly the crowd jumped back up and an even louder cry rang out. Zoey looked down to see the whole ESU team celebrating what must have been an exciting touchdown.
“Oh! I missed it!” cried Kate. She shook her head in disbelief.
Zoey rubbed her shoulder. “Sorry,” she said. Kate took sports very seriously, and since Zoey took fashion very seriously, she knew how she must feel. Not as bad, of course, as Zoey had felt when the dress she’d designed and sewn for their school’s fashion show was mysteriously ruined by yellow paint. More like when she realized she’d mixed up the sleeves on the top she was wearing that day. She’d almost cried when she had to rip them out and start all over again. In the end, though, it turned out fine. Better than she’d hoped. The top was supersimple . . . looking. Basically, a loose-fitting tee. The fabric, though, was a fabulous blue and green ikat for the bodice, and a magenta and gold one for the sleeves.
“Don’t worry, they’ll do it again,” she told Kate.
“Let’s hope so,” Kate said as she looked at the scoreboard, which was: VISITORS 21, ESU EAGLES 6.
Priti leaned over Zoey to give Kate a pat on the knee. “Hey, guys. Spirit!” she said. “That’s what wins games. Hey! You want some stickers to put on your cheeks?” She pointed to her own, on which tiny gold eagles were perched, and flashed her signature wide Holbrooke grin. “Oh, look out, look out!” she said suddenly. “Here comes another wave!”
By halftime the wave count was twenty. The score hadn’t changed. And Zoey was getting hungry. It seemed like way more than two hours since she’d had lunch at home with her dad.
“Snack bar?” she asked her friends, who each instantly jumped up.
“You read my mind! I’m absolutely starving,” said Kate, already scooting toward the aisle.
Zoey stopped in front of her dad, who’d been sitting behind them with friends from work. They were all wearing ESU caps, which were purple with gold letters across the front. Only her dad had on The Tie, though, which he always wore for good luck. It was bright purple with gold winking eagles and frankly made Zoey’s eyes hurt.
Zoey loved her dad more than anything . . . but he was style challenged, to say the least. She sometimes wonder
ed if her mom was alive, would he have still worn the things he did? Zoey was too young when her mom died to remember her well, but everyone still talked about her style and how chic she always looked.
In fact, Zoey wondered a lot of things about what having her mom would be like.
“Hey, Dad? Okay if we go get some popcorn?” she called to him.
He nodded. “Sure. Bring some back for me?”
Zoey held out her hand and opened and closed it, the international sign for “Money, please.”
“Thank you!” she said as he handed her a bill.
“Yeah, thanks!” Priti and Kate chimed in.
Together, they hurried down the bleacher steps to the nearest snack bar. The air smelled of salty popcorn and greasy hot dogs, and the line was already long. Zoey read the menu to see what else they might want. . . .
“Ooh, look!” she said. “They have gummy bears!”
Kate made a face, and so did Priti, and Zoey quickly remembered why. Both of her friends had braces, which made gummy bears—and a million other things—almost impossible to eat. Kate had been the first one to get them, and Zoey still remembered how jealous she’d been. “Why can’t I get braces?” she’d asked her dad again and again.
“Because you don’t need them,” he’d told her proudly. “You have straight teeth—like your mom.” Personally, Zoey would rather have gotten her mom’s strawberry-blonde hair instead of the wavy brown stuff she got from her dad. But she also knew now that braces weren’t half as much fun as she’d thought they were when she was ten.
“Popcorn’s bad enough,” said Priti. “I still have some stuck in my mouth from last week.”
“I know.” Kate nodded. “I’m going to be so happy on Monday. I can’t wait!”
“Monday?” Priti flashed a sneaky look at Zoey. “Why?” she asked. “What happens then?”
Kate’s mouth fell open, stunned. “I’m getting my braces off. How could you forget?”