Stitches and Stones

by Chloe Taylor

“Sure!” said Sophie. She dabbed a little on Zoey’s lips. “There. I think you’re ready!”

  They ventured out into the hallway to take some shots of Zoey taking books out of her locker. A few students played it cool and walked by, as if seeing a fashion shoot in the school hallway was something they saw every day. But most of them stared curiously, and a few milled around, obviously hoping that they might be caught in the background of the shot and get their own small chance of fame.

  Finally, Phil, the photographer, got frustrated.

  “Listen, kids, if you want to be in the background, you can’t just stand there, gawking at the camera,” he said. “Try to look natural, like you’re passing through the hall on your way to your next class or getting something from your locker, just as you would if I wasn’t here.”

  From the corner of her eye, Zoey noticed Ivy, Shannon, and Bree in the group of gawkers, but she tried to not let them spoil her enjoyment of being a star for a day. She was having too much fun answering the reporter’s questions and posing for the photographer.

  After school, Zoey’s dad picked her up—along with Libby, Priti, and Kate—and drove them back to the Webber house for the Team Zoey photo shoot. The Très Chic team met them there. Sophie worked on Libby, Priti, and Kate while Zoey showed Phil where she worked and blogged, so he could figure out the best setup for the shoot. He even asked Zoey to bring her sewing machine up to her room instead of leaving it on the dining table, since her room was a more unique setting. When they came back downstairs, Zoey saw that even Marcus and her dad were getting some light powder and blush, in case they were in the pictures.

  “Don’t tell any of the guys on the football team,” Mr. Webber said. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “It’s nothing to be afraid of,” Sophie said. “Makeup is just a tool.”

  “Yeah, Dad. It’s no big deal,” Zoey said. “Everyone on TV wears powder. Even sportscasters.”

  Her dad smiled. “I stand corrected,” he said.

  “You mean you sit corrected,” Marcus pointed out.

  Zoey bowed her head. She loved her family, but they could be so embarrassing. Did they have to show the Très Chic people what kind of corny jokes they made in the Webber household? Then she remembered she was often the corniest, cheesiest of them all.

  “Why don’t we go upstairs, and you can tell me how your friends inspired you to start Sew Zoey?” the reporter said. “Our editor, Izzy, told us it was a great story.”

  “And Zoey can introduce you to Marie Antoinette!” Libby said.

  “Marie Antoinette?” the writer asked.

  “She’s my dress form. I called her that because she . . . um . . . doesn’t have a head,” Zoey said, worrying that the reporter might think she was kind of ghoulish.

  But the entire Très Chic team burst out laughing.

  “Marie Antoinette!” Phil exclaimed. “I love it! We definitely have to get her in some of the pictures. But before we begin, I’m going to need your release forms.”

  They already had Zoey’s form. Libby and Kate handed theirs over quickly.

  Priti studied her release form, but didn’t pass it to Phil. Zoey thought she saw Priti shake her head slightly.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Phil. “Did you forget to get it signed?”

  “No,” Priti said. “Here, take it.”

  Zoey could see that one of the signatures was smudged, and an edge of the paper was torn.

  “Great!” said Phil, sticking them into his bag. “Four release forms means it’s photo time!”

  They moved up to Zoey’s room, and the photographer staged the girls, moving Marie Antoinette so she’d be visible in the background.

  “Do you have a project you’re working on at the moment?” the writer asked.

  “Yes,” Zoey said, taking out a minidress she’d been experimenting with after watching a movie from the 1960s with her dad and Marcus. Phil had Zoey pose with needle and thread as Priti held scissors; Libby, a tape measure; and Kate, some trim. It seemed really fake and unnatural to Zoey, but she knew they were the professionals.

  “Okay, Priti, can you smile for me now?” the photographer asked. He snapped a whole bunch of pictures and then stopped. “Let’s change the pose slightly, but it would really help if I could get you to smile, Priti. Everyone else in the picture is smiling like the Cheshire cat, but you look like your puppy just died.”

  “I’m sorry,” Priti said, sounding very subdued. “I promise I’ll smile this time.”

  Zoey couldn’t understand what was wrong with her friend. It was so unlike her. Usually, Priti would be in her element doing this kind of thing. She normally loved having her picture taken and was the most smiley and bubbly of all of them.

  This time, Phil wanted Zoey posed with her fingers on her laptop, as if she were in the middle of writing a new blog post, and the girls huddled around her, leaning in to look at the screen, pretending to be excited by her fabulous new design.

  “Can we be on the bed instead of by my worktable?” Zoey asked. “That’s where I normally blog.”

  “Let’s try it both ways,” the photographer proposed.

  He kept having to remind Priti to smile after every shot. Zoey had been worried something was going on with Priti for a while. Now she was absolutely 100 percent sure something was wrong.

  Before they left the bedroom, Phil wanted a fun shot of them giving Marie Antoinette a group hug.

  “I don’t know if we’ll use it in the feature, but let’s take it, anyway, just for giggles,” he said.

  “Can you send it to us?” Zoey asked.

  “Sure,” the photographer said. “If it’s not used in the feature, I’ll make sure the editor forwards it to you.”

  After taking some family pictures with Marcus and her dad in the kitchen, pretending to make and eat dinner, the Très Chic team packed up their gear.

  There sure is a lot of pretending in these photo shoots, Zoey thought.

  “We’ve got everything we need,” the reporter said. “Our editor will e-mail you the link as soon as the feature is live. Good luck with your designs!”

  “Thanks,” Zoey said as the crew waved good-bye and left the room. “I still feel like I’m going to wake up in a minute and find out this was all a dream! But it wasn’t, was it? It’s been so much fun!”

  “It has,” Libby agreed. “I can’t wait to see the pictures.”

  “Me too,” Kate said. “Especially the ones with us all hugging Marie Antoinette.”

  Kate walked home, and Libby’s mom came to pick her up, but as had so often been the case recently, Priti seemed in no rush to go home.

  “Priti, what’s the matter?” Zoey asked. “The photographer had to fight to get a smile out of you during the shoot, which isn’t like you at all. To tell you the truth, you haven’t been yourself for a few weeks now.”

  Priti fidgeted with the rubber bracelets she was wearing, twisting them around her wrist, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Come on. I know something is wrong, Priti. Don’t you want to talk about it?”

  When Priti looked up at Zoey, her brown eyes were brimming with tears. “It’s my parents, Zo. They’re . . . having problems. They’ve been fighting like crazy. You heard them that day when we practiced at my house, right?”

  Zoey nodded.

  “It’s been like that for a while. They won’t agree on anything anymore. You have no idea how hard it was to get them to sign the release form for the photo shoot. Everything is an argument, even good things. My mom signed it, but my dad thought it wasn’t a good idea for me to be in a magazine. Finally, he caved when I started crying.”

  “Gosh, I’m sorry,” Zoey said, now understanding why Priti’s release form was in such bad shape.

  “You know, I’ve been trying to ignore it, because talking about it makes it feel . . . real,” Priti confessed, wiping away a tear. Her hand was shaking, so Zoey held it in hers. “But I can’t ignore it, no matter how hard I try. I
t is real. Last night they sat us all down and said they’re starting couples counseling, which means they are going to get divorced, doesn’t it? And if they get divorced then what will happen? We’ll probably have to move, and then I wouldn’t be able to go to Mapleton Prep, and then I’ll miss my friends and—”

  Priti couldn’t hold it in any longer. She burst into tears.

  Zoey rubbed Priti’s back to comfort her. When Priti’s sobs had slowed down, Zoey got her some tissues.

  “Have you tried talking to Sashi and Tara?” she asked.

  “Y-yes.” Priti sniffed. “But they just snap at me to stop talking about it, because they’re worried about it too, and they have even more to worry about with getting into college and stuff.”

  “I’m not an expert or anything, but . . . if your parents are doing counseling, doesn’t that mean they’re trying to work things out so they can stay together?” Zoey asked.

  “I guess,” Priti said. “But . . . what if it doesn’t work? What if they do get d-divorced? It’s going to be terrible.”

  Another tear escaped from her eye, and she blotted it away with a tissue.

  “It would stink if they get divorced,” Zoey agreed. “I can’t say it wouldn’t. But your parents will still love you no matter what happens between them.”

  “I g-guess.”

  “And we’ll all be here to support you, come what may. BFFs, remember?”

  “I know, but . . . it’s divorce, Zo. The D word. Things would never be the same,” Priti said.

  “But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t ever be happy,” Zoey pointed out. “I mean, Aunt Lulu got divorced, and she seems happy enough.”

  “Aunt Lulu was married?” Priti asked, surprised. She’d always thought of Zoey’s aunt as single.

  “Uh-huh. It wasn’t for very long, only a few years. And they never had kids, obviously.”

  Zoey got up from the bed and stretched.

  “The point is, she got divorced, but she’s okay. And no matter what happens, you’ll be okay.”

  Priti heaved a big shuddering sigh.

  “I know you’re right, but I can’t seem to stop worrying about all the what-ifs? It’s like my brain has short-circuited and it’s stuck on worry mode.”

  “It’s not the same, I know, but sometimes when I get superanxious about a big sewing project, it helps me to think about one stitch at a time instead of looking at the whole project and feeling, like, Help, I’ll never be able to do this!” Zoey said. “So . . . maybe you can just try to think about one day at a time and not worry so much about what might happen—or might not happen? I know it’s easier to say and harder to do, but . . .”

  “I’ll try,” Priti said. “Anything has got to be better than being stuck in worry mode.”

  Zoey had an idea. “I’ve got the perfect thing to get you unstuck. Come on, let’s go downstairs!”

  In the kitchen, she got out two bowls, some ice cream, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream.

  “Ice-cream-sundae time!” she said. “And then we can watch the latest episode of Fashion Showdown. It’s on the DVR.”

  As they settled onto the sofa with their sundaes, Priti smiled a happier, more genuine smile than Zoey had seen on her face all day.

  “I feel better already,” she said. “Thanks, Zo. For listening. And the sundae. And everything.”

  “No problem,” Zoey said. “That’s what BFFs are for.”

  - - - - CHAPTER 9 - - - -

  One Stitch at a Time

  I’m so glad I decided to stick with Sew Zoey, because you (other than the nasty commenters who will not be mentioned from now on) have been so amazing and supportive. I want to give a special shout-out and SUPERBIG thank-you to Fashionsista for the beautiful “stick with it” bracelet. I wore it for the Très Chic photo shoot, and it reminded me not to let my worry about how people might think or react get in the way of enjoying the fun things that were happening—like being star for a day and being followed around at school by a writer and photographer and makeup artist! I can’t wait to see how it turns out.

  I’m trying to remember that sometimes when a problem seems too big, it helps to look at it in smaller pieces. Like when you’re working on a sewing project and you think you’ll never be able to finish it, just think about doing one stitch at a time, and before you know it, the project is a quarter done, then half done, then three-quarters done, and then one day, the thing you thought you’d never be able to complete is done, and it looks amazing! This idea inspired the sketches for today’s blog.

  I’m going to work on taking things one day at a time—one stitch at a time—instead of letting everything and everyone get me down. Things are looking brighter already!

  Zoey was happy to see Priti a bit more like her usual self after their talk. At Zoey’s suggestion, she ended up confiding in Libby and Kate about the problems at home too, so they all could give her extra TLC when she needed it.

  “My parents said they don’t want to get divorced,” Priti told them at lunch. “So I’m hoping everything is going to be okay, and I’m just taking it one stitch at a time, like Zoey says.”

  “Can I have one of your fries at a time?” Kate asked.

  “Me too!” Zoey said. “They smell amazing!”

  Priti laughed and passed her fries around for her friends to share.

  Early the following week, Zoey got an e-mail from the editor at Très Chic telling her the online feature, “A Day in the Life: Ten Teen Designers to Watch” was live on the magazine’s website. Hardly able to click on the link because of her excitement, Zoey scrolled through the slideshow of the other designers, reading about how they spent their days at school, their design work, and their dreams for the future. Allie looked great in her photos, and it was fun to see the pictures of her with Jan at A Stitch in Time. Allie even mentioned in her interview that Zoey shopped there too! Zoey sent her an e-mail, thanking her and reminding her they should do a “Fashion from A to Z” Etsy store together.

  Her own spread was awesome. There was a picture of her and Ms. Austen standing by Zoey’s locker, with a crowd of students milling around, trying to look like nothing special was happening. If Zoey looked really carefully, she could see Ivy, Shannon, and Bree in the corner of the frame, but their faces were blurry, because the focus was on Zoey. She wondered if Ivy would be happy she was in the picture or mad because she was blurry. Whatever. Zoey wasn’t going to let it bother her.

  Zoey’s favorite picture was of all the girls hugging Marie Antoinette. She was glad the editor did use the “fun shot,” and she decided to write to the photographer and ask for copies for her friends. She had a great idea for decorating cute picture frames to put them in!

  The best part of all, Zoey thought, was that she was in such great company and that a magazine like Très Chic considered her a real designer. When she went to school the next day, she felt like she didn’t need the “sticks and stones” bracelet to remind her not to let Ivy get her down—but she wore it anyway, because she liked it so much.

  People kept coming up to her in the hall and saying things like, “Hey, I saw you on the Très Chic website!” and “Cool feature in Très Chic!” Even Lorenzo had seen it, and Zoey was pretty sure that fashion magazines weren’t his usual reading fare.

  “My mom reads Très Chic. She showed me the pictures of you guys,” he said when she walked into English. “Totally awesome!”

  “Really? Thanks!” Zoey said, hoping she wasn’t starting to blush the way she always seemed to when Lorenzo spoke to her.

  If looks could kill, the one Ivy gave her just then would have done Zoey some serious damage.

  “Did you see me in the picture?” Ivy asked Lorenzo.

  “Uh, no,” Lorenzo said. “Were you in it?”

  Zoey sat in her chair before Ivy could give her another death glare. If it was really Ivy behind the nasty comments, she had a feeling she’d be in for more tonight when she got home.

  “That was a really cool feature abou
t you,” Gabe said, swiveling around in his chair to smile at her.

  “You read Très Chic?” Zoey asked, amazed.

  “Well, not usually.” Gabe smiled again. “I’m normally more a Sports Illustrated or Scientific American kind of guy. But when one of your friends is one of Ten Teen Designers to Watch, a guy has to make sacrifices.”

  “Thanks for your sacrifice,” Zoey said. “I hope it wasn’t too painful.”

  “It was actually pretty cool. I never knew you had a headless dummy called Marie Antoinette. Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night and think that you’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse when you see her shadow?”

  Zoey laughed.

  “She’s a dress form, not a dummy, and no. Marie Antoinette is waaaaay too well dressed to be a zombie.”

  “Who says zombies can’t be well dressed? If the apocalypse hit the fashion district, there could totally be well-dressed zombies.”

  “You think about the strangest things,” Zoey said. “Funny, but strange.”

  Still, for the rest of class, she was sketching zombie fashions in the margins of her notebook. She showed them to Gabe at the end of the period.

  “See!” he said, grinning. “I knew you’d get it!”

  “Thanks for the idea,” Zoey said. “I can use it for a Z design when Allie and I do our ‘Fashion from A to Z’ project.”

  “Who’d have thought you’d be getting fashion ideas from Gabe Monaco?” Priti said when Zoey showed them the zombie fashion sketches at lunch. “I mean, it’s not like he’s a bad dresser, but . . .”

  “I get my ideas everywhere,” Zoey said. “That’s the exciting thing about them. I never know where I’m going to find the next one.”

  “I know! Remember when you got the idea for that cool dress at the Eastern State Game?” Kate said. “I was too busy watching them play to think about anything else.”

  Zoey definitely remembered that dress. The day she wore it to school was the first time Lorenzo paid attention to her.

  “Have you checked the traffic on your blog lately?” Libby said. “I mean, if Gabe and Lorenzo are reading the Très Chic thing, I bet Sew Zoey must have lots of new readers.”