Vega and the Fashion Disaster

by Ahmet Zappa

  “What club is this?” Vega asked.

  Katie laughed. “You’re so funny! What else could it be? It’s Knitting Club, of course!”

  Vega knew that the only reason she was making everyone laugh was that she didn’t understand Wishling ways, but she still enjoyed it, basking in the warm glow of her classmates’ grins. Back home she was the serious one; on Wishworld she already had a reputation as a joker. It felt good to be thought of as funny.

  “Welcome,” said the teacher, a tall thin woman with curly brown hair and thick glasses. “I assume you know how to cast on?” She handed Vega her own ball of string and two of the pointy sticks. “You can borrow these for today. Next week you should bring your own yarn and needles.”

  Vega knew that no matter what happened, good or bad, the Countdown Clock would have run out of time before next week’s class. Still, she nodded in agreement. She was afraid to ask what “casting on” was, in case it was a special Wishling skill that everyone was born with. So she stared at the needles and the ball of yarn, willing herself to figure out how to do it. As you might imagine, that didn’t work. Not about to waste any of her precious wish energy in the attempt to acquire knowledge, she decided she’d fake it. But she had no idea what to do. She was tempted to leave the room and consult her Star-Zap for possible directions, but then she glanced down at her lap and saw her Wish Pendant. It was glowing! Her Wisher was near. Startastic!

  She looked around the room eagerly. Who could it be? The girl with the long dark hair and nervous laugh who was knitting so quickly her needles flashed? The girl with the short blond hair who was creating what looked like the world’s longest (and lumpiest) scarf? Or maybe it was the girl who was sitting next to her, scowling as she ripped out a row of stitches?

  Keep cool, Vega, she said to herself. You’ll figure it out. She remembered what she had learned in Wishers 101 class: FIGGO—Fitting In Guarantees Good Outcome. She picked up the needles and began to wrap the yarn around them. Maybe this is how you start, she thought in desperation.

  She looked at Katie for help. But she was talking a mile a minute to another girl and gesturing with one of her needles. The other girl was half-listening, a nervous eye trained on the moving needle in Katie’s hand.

  Vega stared down at her own needles helplessly.

  “Hey, do you need help?” someone asked.

  She looked up hopefully. A girl was smiling down, peering at her from behind funny-shaped eyeglasses without any lenses in them, her curly black hair cut with uneven bangs and one side longer than the other. Always-precise Vega was surprised to find that rather than looking strange, the haircut gave the girl an endearingly off-kilter look. Her simple black sweater had a bright pink fuzzy neckline. She wore a slim black skirt and bright pink tights, and her chunky black boots looked artfully beat-up. They were embellished with bright paint splatters. Vega looked at her admiringly. Vega was more of a dress-for-comfort kind of girl, but even she could tell the girl had style.

  “I just finished my project, a shrug,” she said, holding up an adorable abbreviated sweater that had only arms and shoulders. It was made out of glittery maroon wool. “I don’t have anything to do, so I’m all yours!” She sat down in the chair next to Vega’s. “Give me your hand,” she said. Vega obeyed, and the girl laid the end of the yarn on Vega’s palm, looped over itself. “Now watch,” she said, sticking her fingers through the loop and pulling the yarn through. “See? A slipknot. That’s how you start.”

  She took Vega’s knitting needle and poked it through the hole. Then she showed her how to cast on, making an X with the needles, looping the yarn around the back needle, pulling it underneath, and then slipping the other needle through to steal it back.

  “Now you try,” she said.

  Vega stuck out her tongue in concentration. After a couple of false starts, she began to get the hang of it. She smiled. It was an odd Wishling pastime, but she could see its appeal. Mission 4, Wishworld Observation #3: Knitting seems complicated, but it’s not as hard as it looks. It’s actually quite relaxing!

  “Hey, you’re a good teacher,” she said. “What’s your name? I’m Vega.”

  “Hello, Vega,” the girl said. “I’m Ella. So, are you ready to knit?”

  Vega nodded. It was the same process, except after you pulled the stitch underneath, you slipped it off one of the needles and onto the other.

  “I’m knitting!” Vega cried.

  “Amazing,” said the girl. “You’re a quick learner. Once you do a couple of rows, I’ll teach you how to purl.” She looked down at Vega’s waist. “Hey,” she said. “What a cool belt buckle! How does it glow? Does it have a battery or is it solar powered?”

  Vega nearly dropped her knitting as she looked down at her belt. It was definitely glowing. Still, better safe than sorry. Her eyes on the belt, she walked away from Ella and stood next to another girl, who looked up at her in confusion. The belt buckle dimmed. She sidled up to Ella, who had started knitting again. It glowed once more. Ella smiled and shook her head. “You’re so funny!” she said.

  There it was again! Vega grinned. She was having the best time on Wishworld. She had learned to knit, found her Wisher, and made several Wishlings laugh.

  Her mission was off to a startastic start!

  When Knitting Club was over, Vega returned the needles and yarn to the teacher and promised (falsely) that she would bring her own supplies the next week. Then she turned around to look for Ella. But Ella was gone.

  Vega ran to the top of the stairs. She spotted Ella’s pink collar and multicolored boots just as they disappeared through the door.

  “Ella! Wait!” she called. Vega ran down the steps, but when she pushed open the door, her Wisher was nowhere to be found. There was a line of cars waiting to pick up students. Ella must be in one of them, she thought. She stepped off the curb and tried peering through the windows of one. But all she could see was her own curious face and dark brown hair, which she still hadn’t gotten used to. It was impossible to see inside the car.

  The window rolled down. It was Katie. “Hey, Vega, are you looking for your driver?” the girl asked.

  “Um…no,” said Vega. “Just looking for Ella.”

  “Don’t know what to tell you. She disappeared,” said Katie with a shrug. “She’s good at that.”

  “Okay, thanks,” said Vega. She turned to walk away.

  “Hey, do you need a ride somewhere?” Katie asked, leaning her head out the window.

  Vega looked down the street one last time. But Ella was definitely gone. “Um, sure. As long as your dad doesn’t mind,” she said, indicating the man who sat behind the wheel.

  Katie laughed. “You crack me up. You know that’s my driver!”

  Katie opened the door and slid over. As Vega settled into the soft black seat, Katie handed her a black buckle on a strap.

  “Thanks,” said Vega, taking it from her and holding on to it.

  Katie looked at her funny.

  “What?” said Vega.

  Katie burst into laughter. “Oh, Vega!” she said fondly. She reached across her and snapped it into the latch. The strap felt snug against Vega’s torso.

  “Oh, it’s a restraining device!” she said. Self-driving Starland cars never, ever got into accidents, so Starlings were free to move about in their vehicles at all times. Vega felt oddly constrained but didn’t say anything.

  Katie smiled. “So how did you like Knitting Club?” she asked. “I was right, pretty fun, huh?”

  “Yeah,” said Vega. “I liked it.” Then she added, “So, um, what’s Ella like?”

  “Oh, she’s really nice. She’s in my class,” Katie said.

  Vega sat up straight. “Oh, really?” she said. “Uh…me too!”

  “You are?” said Katie. She shrugged. “That’s cool. She’s new this year. She has all these great outfits, because her mom is a famous fashion designer.” She looked embarrassed. “I actually tried to Google her mom once, but I couldn’t find any
thing. She must be, like, totally exclusive.”

  Google? Vega tried to look wise. She nodded. “Totally. Well, that makes sense, about her mom being a fashion designer, that is. She did have on a startas—I mean, a fantastic outfit.”

  “It was pretty sick,” said Katie.

  Vega stared at her. Perhaps Katie had misunderstood her. “Oh, no, I meant that I enjoyed it,” Vega explained.

  Katie grinned and gave Vega a friendly punch on her arm. “There you go again.”

  Mission 4, Wishworld Observation #4, thought Vega. Sometimes Wishlings use words the opposite way. For example, sick.

  “Oh, you’ll see,” said Katie. “She wears a cool outfit every day.” She thought for a minute. “I guess I don’t really know all that much about her. She kind of keeps to herself. She never invites anyone over. It could be because her mom designs her clothes at home and everything needs to be top secret,” she mused. “Or maybe it’s because her mom has to travel a lot.”

  “Oh,” said Vega. She started thinking. Maybe Ella’s wish was to spend more time with her mother. She wondered how she would make that happen. Maybe she could suggest they take up a hobby together….

  Katie was looking at her intently. “I said, where should we drop you off, Vega?”

  Vega snapped back to reality. Uh-oh. She had no idea what to tell her. Then she had a sudden brainstorm. “Your house?” she suggested. “My mom’s at work, so I have some time to kill.”

  The other girl’s face lit up in a smile. “Excellent,” she said. “Maybe you could stay for dinner!”

  “I’d love to,” said Vega.

  After a couple more blocks, the car stopped and the driver got out and opened the door for them. They stepped onto the sidewalk under an awning.

  “Thank you, Michael,” said Katie. “See you tomorrow!”

  “Thank you,” echoed Vega.

  A smiling man in a fancy uniform held the door of the building open for them. “Good evening, Katie,” he said.

  “Good evening, Henry,” she replied.

  They walked through the lobby, past a large marble table, on which rested the largest vase of flowers Vega had ever seen. She literally could have taken a dip in it. They stepped into the elevator, where another uniformed man was waiting.

  “Hello, Ernest,” Katie said, and he nodded, taking the girls straight to the right floor. “Going up!” he said.

  Vega followed Katie down a polished hallway to a door. Katie rang the doorbell, which chimed melodiously. A woman, clad in a gray dress with a white apron over it, answered the door.

  “Welcome home, Katie,” she said.

  Katie gave her a quick hug. “Marta, this is my friend Vega. She’s going to stay for dinner tonight.”

  “Very good,” Marta said. She nodded and disappeared.

  “Is that your mom?” asked Vega curiously.

  Katie snorted. “No, my mom doesn’t wear a uniform, silly. And I don’t call her by her first name, either. That’s our housekeeper.” She playfully punched Vega in the arm again. “You’re so funny!”

  My mom wears a uniform, thought Vega. She realized she had to start keeping her observations to herself. She wasn’t really blending in. In fact, she was starting to stick out like a sore thumb. How soon before her funny comments caught some unwanted attention?

  “Want a tour?” asked Katie.

  “Sure,” said Vega.

  The tour took half an hour. They started in the sun-filled living room, which was bigger than the apartment Vega grew up in. They saw the dining room, with a table big enough for fourteen; the huge gleaming kitchen; and at least four bedrooms. Vega lost count. “My mom and dad’s room is that way,” said Katie, pointing to an unexplored wing of the house. Off a library, filled from floor to ceiling with real paper books, was a balcony that overlooked a huge green rectangle. “That’s the park,” Katie explained.

  Vega nodded. Which park? She wanted to ask, but she knew enough by then not to.

  The tour continued: The windowless media room with a huge screen, plush red theater seats, and a popcorn machine. The maid’s room. The laundry room. They ended the tour in Katie’s enormous bedroom—complete with huge canopy bed, private bathroom, a crafts table, and a gigantic walk-in closet.

  Vega’s eyes were huge. “My stars,” she said.

  A bell jangled.

  “Dinnertime!” said Katie. The two girls washed their hands and headed back to the dining room. Luckily, Katie waited for Vega, or she would probably have gotten lost trying to find it.

  The enormous dining room table was set for two. Vega didn’t think twice about that. She had often eaten alone when her mother worked late. She sat at the table, unfolded her napkin, and placed it across her lap.

  Just then a lovely woman in a long black dress swept into the room. Her shining blond hair was twisted into a sleek updo. Vega admired the sparkling white crystals she wore around her wrist and neck.

  “This is my mother, Mrs. O’Toole,” Katie said. “Mom, this is my new friend Vega.”

  “You look beautiful!” Vega exclaimed.

  “She’s dressed like this because she’s off to a benefit tonight,” Katie explained.

  “Vega. What a pretty name,” said Mrs. O’Toole. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Vega repeated. What a lovely Wishling expression!

  “And what a pretty haircut,” Katie’s mother said. She took a closer look at Vega’s hair. “Look at that! There’s a hidden layer of blue underneath in the back!”

  “There is?” said Vega, reaching back to touch her hair.

  Mrs. O’Toole and Katie laughed the same tinkling laugh. “Your new friend is funny,” Mrs. O’Toole said to Katie.

  “Tell me about it,” said Katie.

  Mrs. O’Toole turned to her daughter. “Daddy and I will be out late tonight, so you must listen to Marta. And go to bed when she tells you.” She sniffed the air. “Did Marta make lemon meringue pie?” she asked.

  Katie gave her mom a strange look. “I don’t think so,” she said. Then her eyes lit up. “Hey, can Vega sleep over tonight?”

  “I’m sure her mother is expecting her,” Mrs. O’Toole said worriedly. “And it is a school night. And we’ve never met, so I can’t imagine that her mother would allow—”

  “Why don’t I stay over tonight?” interrupted Vega. “My mother won’t mind.”

  Katie’s mother got a funny look on her face. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?” she said. “Your mother won’t mind.”

  Katie looked puzzled, but delight won out over confusion, and she hugged Vega, then her mother. “That’s totally dope, Mom!” she said.

  “Glad to be so dope,” said her mother. “Word.”

  “Now you’re embarrassing me,” said Katie.

  A man in a white shirt, a black suit, and a black bow tie strode into the room. “Who’s embarrassing you?” he asked. “Is it me in my penguin suit?”

  He looked dashing, so Vega knew he was kidding. He introduced himself to Vega, then said to Katie, “I’m getting dragged to another of your mother’s charity events. I’d much rather stay home and watch baseball with you!”

  Katie grinned. “Tomorrow night, Daddy. The whales need you.”

  He rumpled her hair. “Tomorrow night it is.” He stood up and smiled. “You girls are in for a treat. It smells like Marta made chocolate layer cake!”

  After dinner Vega watched as Katie did her homework. Sitting silently as Katie struggled with math was particularly painful for Vega, so she stood, walked to the window, and looked up, searching the night sky. But to her dismay she couldn’t see a single star.

  There was a scratching sound at the door and Vega whirled around. To her surprise, two enormous furry creatures bounded into the room. Vega took one look and screamed.

  Katie looked up and laughed. “Don’t be scared. That’s just Felix and Oscar. My mother raises Afghan hounds,” she explained.

  Vega stared at the tall, slen
der, long-haired creatures. “They’re dogs?” she guessed.

  Katie laughed. “Well, they’re not hamsters,” she said.

  “They’re not?” said Vega.

  Katie grinned. “Vega, you are too much. They’re my mother’s show dogs.”

  They put on shows? Vega wondered. What is their talent? But she wisely kept her thoughts to herself this time.

  ‘They compete in dog shows all over the country,” explained Katie. “They are the most spoiled dogs in the city, I swear. They have their own water fountain in the kitchen, their own special shower room, and they eat meals prepared by a doggy chef. You can’t make this stuff up.”

  Vega tentatively held out her hand and one of the dogs licked it. It was kind of gross and kind of cool at the same time. She patted its head and then, emboldened, began to stroke its silky fur. The other dog poked her with its long nose, looking for attention, too.

  Katie grinned. “You’ll never get rid of them now.”

  “Katie?” asked Vega.

  “Yeah?”

  “Does everyone at school live in as big a place as this?”

  Katie thought for a moment. “Most of them, I guess,” she said. She frowned. “Actually, not everyone. There are some FA kids who live outside the city, in smaller apartments.”

  “FA kids?” asked Vega.

  “Financial aid,” Katie explained. “You know. The kids that get scholarships to be able to go to school.”

  “All schools aren’t free?” asked Vega. That was strange. They were on Starland.

  “Definitely not,” Katie said. “Especially ours!”

  That night Vega lay in an impeccably decorated guest room under crisp white sheets and a blanket the color of the early-morning sky and as soft as a baby’s skin. She ran over the day’s events and her next steps, making a mental list.

  1) Make secondary contact with Ella.

  2) Get invited over to her house.

  3) Determine wish.

  4) Make wish come true.