by Sheryl Berk
“The truth often hurts,” Mr. Kaye added. “But you can’t lie to yourself. Not if you want to be a successful designer.”
“I do!” Mickey said. “I really do.”
“Then let’s move forward,” Mr. Kaye suggested. “You will receive a two out of four on this assignment, and I hope to see a vast improvement on the next one.”
Mickey hated the idea of a bad grade, but at least Mr. Kaye was leaving the door open—so to speak—for her to do better.
“I guess that’s fair,” she said.
“Oh, I think it’s very fair,” he said. “An outburst like that could have resulted in suspension from FAB.”
“Thanks, Mr. Kaye. I’ll do better next time.”
Her teacher nodded. “I know you will. And for the future, remember that sometimes lips need to be zipped, Mackenzie, not just clothing.”
• • •
The last person Mickey wanted to see after her talk with Mr. Kaye was Jade. But there she was, hovering at the end of the hall, surrounded by South and Jake.
“Mickey!” South waved to her. “Saw your bag on Page Six today. Awesome! It was right next to an item about my dad’s new rap duet with Kanye.”
Mickey tried to smile and walk past them, but Jade jumped right in front of her and stood there with her hands resting on her hips.
“You think you’re the new ‘It designer,’ don’t you?” she asked Mickey.
“What? No, I never said that, Jade.”
“Well, Gigi is a personal friend of my mom’s, and I know for a fact she wants nothing more to do with you.”
Mickey wasn’t going to argue that point. She was pretty sure Gigi would never want to speak to her again.
“Listen, Jade,” she said calmly. “I don’t care if I never, ever see another supermodel.” She remembered what she’d told Kendyll, about how the best way to handle a hater was to ignore her and tune her out. So Mickey turned her back on Jade and checked her schedule, not even listening to the rest of her ranting.
Jade was surprised by her reaction; she was hoping Mickey would at least run to the bathroom and cry again. Frankly, it made her even angrier.
“Let it go, Jade,” Jake said. “She doesn’t care.”
“Whatever.” Jade sniffed. “Neither do I.”
“Don’t you believe it,” South whispered to Mickey when Jade was out of earshot. “She does care. She was pea green with envy when she saw that photo of Gigi carrying your purse.”
Mickey had to admit it felt good, just a little, to know that Jade was jealous of her. Even though yesterday had been disastrous, it was—as JC would call it—a bright side to an otherwise awful situation.
• • •
Mr. Kaye wasted no time in assigning his class their next major project—the spring semester final. “You’re all aware that the Met Museum Costume Gala is in four weeks?” he asked his students. “It is the annual fund-raising gala to benefit the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute. It marks the grand opening of the Costume Institute’s annual fashion exhibit and follows its theme.”
Jade’s hand shot up. “I’m going with Mommy for the third year in a row,” she said. “She’s designing an amazing new gown for SJP.”
“Goody for you,” Mars muttered under her breath. “Name-dropper.”
Mr. Kaye continued. “This year’s theme is ‘Black and White Ball,’ based on a new exhibit of vintage black-and-white fashion photos. I want each of you to design an original evening look that would be appropriate to attend the gala.”
“Like any of them would actually be going!” Jade snickered.
“Regardless, this assignment counts for forty percent of your grade,” Mr. Kaye added. “So it must be flawless and FAB-worthy, and you have one week to do it. Begin sketching.”
While everyone was deep in thought over their sketchbooks, Mr. Kaye called Mickey to his desk and handed her a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “Someone contacted me this morning shortly after our talk asking for the student who made the Gigi bag on Page Six,” he said. “She said you would know her as the lady in the fuchsia hat.”
Mickey vaguely remembered a woman with soft, wavy black hair asking to see her design and saying it was wonderful—right before Gigi seized it and threw her out.
“Me? Why does she want to talk to me?” Mickey asked.
“She says she is someone’s aunt—Kendyll someone?”
“Kendyll Jansen? That was Kendyll’s aunt?”
“Apparently,” Mr. Kaye said. “She said it was urgent, so I told her I would relay the message to the student responsible.”
Mickey stared down at the slip of paper.
“Are you going to stand there or call the supermodel’s aunt back?” he asked her. “Make haste!”
“You know who Kendyll Jansen is?” Mickey asked, amazed.
“I know a great deal more than you think,” Mr. Kaye said with a wink. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“No, no, you weren’t,” Mickey said—then realized that might have been another insult to her teacher. “Not that you’re old or anything.…”
“Ms. Williams, go make your call,” Mr. Kaye said. “And let me know what Mrs. Jansen has to say.”
Mickey dialed the phone number and waited for Mrs. Jansen to pick up. In her mind, she went over every reason she could think of why Kendyll’s aunt would want to call her. None of them were good:
1. She was angry that Mickey had spoken to her famous niece at the Pink Party. How dare she!
2. She was disgusted that Mickey gave her niece’s archrival a one-of-a-kind bag. How dare she!
3. She found out that Mickey was trespassing in the hotel—and intended to report her. How dare she sneak in and pretend to be a caterer!
Mickey tried to calm herself down. She and JC had only been trying to help, and things had simply spun out of control.
“Hello?” a woman suddenly answered.
“I’m sorry! I know, ‘How dare I?’ I didn’t mean to, honest!” Mickey quickly explained.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the voice said. “Is this Mickey Williams? The young lady with the bubble bag at the Pink Party who spoke to my niece Kendyll?”
“Yesss,” Mickey said slowly. “That’s me.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” the woman said. “I’ve been trying very hard to track you down. Kendyll recalled that you mentioned something about a fashion school in Brooklyn, so I made some inquiries and spoke to a very kind gentleman this morning who said he knew you.”
“Mr. Kaye,” Mickey said. “He gave me your number.”
“Well, he promised he would—bless his heart! You see, Kendyll has a predicament.”
“A predicament?” Mickey asked. She couldn’t understand what kind of problem Kendyll Jansen could possibly have. She was rich and famous and one of the biggest supermodels in the world—all at the age of seventeen! “I’m not sure I know what you mean, or how I could help.”
“You’re a designer, are you not?” Mrs. Jansen inquired. “She said you showed her your designs and they were wonderful.”
“Um, yes. I’m a designer, kinda. I’m training to be a designer at FAB, but sometimes, well, my designs don’t go over very well.”
“Really?” Kendyll’s aunt continued. “Because that lovely gentleman told me you are one of his star pupils with one of the brightest futures in fashion.”
“He said that? About me?” Mickey couldn’t believe her ears. Did Mr. Kaye actually sing her praises?
“He did. And he told me you were the perfect person for the job.”
“The job? What job?” Mickey’s heart was racing.
“I want you to design my niece a one-of-a-kind gown to wear to the Met Costume Gala.”
Mickey held the phone away from her ear and shook it. Sh
e must have heard wrong! “Lemme get this straight. You want me to make Kendyll Jansen a dress?”
“Not just a dress—a showstopper that takes people’s breath away. Something that turns heads and makes Gigi Harlowe green with envy. I was very impressed with your bag, and Kendyll mentioned that she really connected with you. She’s tired of all the other designers throwing clothes at her. She wants someone fresh, young, and new that will wow the fashion world. And that would be you.”
Mickey couldn’t speak. She was still trying to process what Mrs. Jansen was saying.
“Dear? Did you hear me? Are you still there?” she asked Mickey.
“I’m here,” Mickey said. “I’m just in shock.”
“Can we make a time for you to come meet with Kendyll, take her measurements, maybe present her some ideas? The Met Gala is only a month away.”
Mickey nodded, then realized Mrs. Jansen couldn’t see her through the phone. “Yes, I can do that.”
“Say tomorrow?”
Tomorrow! Mickey was supposed to come up with a showstopping gown idea by tomorrow? She wanted to scream, “No way!” but instead, she answered, “No prob.” This was too big an opportunity to pass up. She had messed up her chance with one supermodel; she wasn’t going to mess this up too.
“There’s just one little thing,” Mrs. Jansen added. Of course! There had to be a catch! “It has to be top secret. You can’t tell anyone you’re working on Kendyll’s dress until after she wears it to the gala, and you can’t show the final dress to anyone.”
“But Mr. Kaye has to grade me on it,” Mickey pointed out. “And he’s really good at keeping secrets. Oh! And my best friend, JC, and my aunt Olive and my mom…”
“No one,” Mrs. Jansen insisted. “Tell your teacher you are working on something for Kendyll, but don’t be specific. And I’m sorry, but you’ll need to make another dress for your homework. We can’t risk it being leaked. As for the rest of your friends and family, you can’t say anything to them either.”
Mickey remembered the advice Mr. Kaye had given her in his office: “Sometimes lips need to be zipped, not just clothing.”
She took a deep breath. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said. “One ‘wow’ gown coming up!” But she knew she really had to design two wow ones—Kendyll’s and another that would equally impress Mr. Kaye and keep her fellow classmates from asking questions.
Mickey hated keeping secrets—especially from her mom. But when Jordana called that night to ask her daughter how her day went, Mickey crossed her fingers behind her back and fibbed. She had promised Mrs. Jansen she wouldn’t spill just yet. So she told herself it wasn’t really a lie; it was just pushing the pause button on the truth.
“My day? Oh, it was fine, nothing out of the ordinary,” she told her mom. “Mr. Kaye gave us our new project to work on.”
“And what’s that?” her mother asked.
“It’s based on the Met Costume Gala. I have to come up with something someone would wear to it.” She paused. “Of course, no one would really wear one of my designs.”
“Aw, don’t put yourself down, Mickey Mouse!” her mom said. “Any of those big celebs would be lucky to wear a Mickey Williams original!”
“But they wouldn’t. Trust me. Not happening.”
“Well, then it’s their loss,” her mom added. “So what are you thinking of making?”
Mickey closed her eyes and brainstormed out loud. “Well, the exhibit is based on old black-and-white photographs. So I thought of creating an original textile print out of old pics.”
“Sounds promising,” her mom replied.
“We have this amazing scanner and fabric printer at FAB. I just have to find the right photos to use for it.”
“Check with your aunt Olive,” Jordana said. “She has boxes and boxes of old family photos stored away.”
Mickey’s ears perked up. “Really? What kind of photos?”
“Oh, lots and lots of your great-grandma Gertie in particular. Did you know she was a silent-screen actress?”
Mickey shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”
“Apparently, a director spotted her and used her as an extra in a 1920s Gloria Swanson movie. Granny Gertie loved to tell us that story when we were little, all about how she was famous for fifteen minutes on the big screen. Olive just adored her.”
“I think I know what I’m going to do for my design,” Mickey said, inspired. “Mom, you’re a genius.”
“Really? What?” her mom asked excitedly. “Tell me!”
Mickey hesitated. “I can’t. A designer is supposed to keep her work close to the vest—so to speak.” Mickey knew her mom wasn’t going to accept that answer. It was not like her to keep secrets between them.
“Since when?” Jordana asked suspiciously. “You usually text me pics of your sketches and can’t wait to tell me what you’re working on.”
“I know, but this is different. I kind of promised I wouldn’t share it. Not just yet.”
“Hmm,” her mom replied. “Okay, but when you are ready to share, I’ll be here…waiting.”
“I know,” Mickey said. She felt just awful! Why had she made this stupid promise to Mrs. Jansen?
“Good luck with your top secret assignment,” Jordana added. “But it’s no secret that I love you, Mickey Mouse.”
Mickey opened her mouth. She wanted to tell her mom so badly that she was designing a gown for Kendyll and this could finally put her name on the fashion map! But instead she replied simply, “Ditto.”
• • •
After she hung up with her mom, Mickey went in search of Olive, who was hard at work in the kitchen preparing dinner.
“What is that?” Mickey asked, smelling something strange cooking in a pot on the stove.
“Alfalfa stew,” Olive announced proudly. “My famous recipe.”
Mickey pulled up a stool and watched her stir. “Speaking of famous…” she began. “Do you have any old black-and-white photos of Granny Gertie?”
Olive stopped what she was doing and looked thoughtful. “Oh, I haven’t heard that name in ages. Dear, dear Granny Gertie! Where did you hear it?”
“Mom,” Mickey explained. “She said you have a whole box of pics, and I need them for my Apparel Arts project.”
Olive wiped her hands on her apron and left the stew simmering. “Follow me.”
She pulled out a step stool and climbed high in the coat closet in the living room. From the top shelf, she pulled down a large shoe box.
“This should be it,” she said to Mickey. “I always thought one day I’d organize them into an album or a scrapbook, a tribute to my grandma.”
Mickey opened the lid and dove in. There were literally dozens of black-and-white photos of a beautiful brunette with big, dark eyes, in all sorts of fashionable attire. “I love this one,” she said, finding a picture of Gertie in a flapper dress with her hair in a boyish bob. “She’s so chic!”
“The chic-est.” Olive smiled. “You see those long pearls? She gave those to me. I still have them.”
“Aunt Olive, these are perfect,” Mickey said. “Can I borrow them for a while?”
“Of course! Gertie would have loved her great-granddaughter taking an interest in her.”
Mickey felt more than interested; she felt inspired, like someone had literally sparked a match and lit her creativity on fire! She could see Kendyll’s gown as plain as day: a 1920s-style evening gown with an asymmetrical handkerchief hemline, a plunging V in the back, and a white marabou feather wrap. She took the shoe box and retreated to her room where she sketched and sketched until Aunt Olive called her to dinner. When she met Kendyll tomorrow, Mickey would have so much to show her!
• • •
The next day felt like it was dragging on forever. Mickey just wanted it to end so she could get to Mrs. Jansen’s apartmen
t on the Upper East Side.
“Hey, Mick.” JC waved at her as she bounded down the front steps of FAB in search of her school bus. “Where ya goin’ in such a hurry?”
She checked the time on her phone: 3:15 p.m. She had promised Mrs. Jansen she would be there no later than four thirty to meet with her and Kendyll. If JC slowed her down, or worse, if she missed her bus, she’d be late.
“Can’t talk now.” She hurried past him. “Call ya later.”
“But what about Madge? You said you would come with me after school and help me pick out some albums.”
Mickey froze in her tracks. She had promised JC she would go with him. It had completely flown out of her head when this whole Kendyll costume popped up.
“I’m sorry, JC,” she apologized. “I just can’t today. I’m in a huge rush.”
“Okay,” JC said. “Where ya rushin’ to? Maybe I can come, and we can go to Madge another day.”
“No!” Mickey shouted, a little louder than she intended. “You can’t come with me.”
“Why not?” JC asked. He sniffed his armpit, then Madonna’s bag. “Neither one of us smells.”
“I can’t say,” Mickey said, lowering her eyes. “It’s kind of a secret.”
“Since when do we keep secrets from each other?” Mickey noticed that JC looked genuinely upset. But she couldn’t tell him; she just couldn’t!
“We don’t. But this is a super secret, and I just can’t share it with anyone,” she tried to explain.
“I’m not just anyone. I’m your best friend.”
Mickey nodded. “You are! And I promise, as soon as I can say something, I will.”
She patted his arm and dashed off just as the school bus was getting ready to pull away. Keeping this secret was going to be harder than she’d thought—especially if it meant hurting JC’s feelings in the process.
“Mickey!” Kendyll said as she opened the door to her aunt’s fancy Park Avenue apartment. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
Mickey smiled shyly. “You are?”
“Are you kidding?” Kendyll said, motioning for her to come in. “I think you’re the perfect person to design my gala gown. I’m so excited to see what you’re thinking.”