Who What Wear

  Copyright © 2011 Biscotti Books

  Cover and internal design © 2011 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Created by Biscotti Books

  Cover and internal illustrations by Georgia Rucker

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  www.jabberwockykids.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the publisher.

  Source of Production: Versa Press, East Peoria, Illinois, USA.

  Date of Production: April 2011

  Run Number: 15011

  Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  VP 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  With special thanks

  to Catherine Hapka

  “In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different.”

  —Coco Chanel

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  FASHIONABLY GREAT

  Emma Rose dug through the pile of clothing. Soft, caramel-colored herringbone wool pants. Plum, cap-sleeved, silk cocktail dress. Camel, V-neck cashmere sweater. Totally luxe, but totally boring.

  Then her hand closed on something different.

  “Hey, what’s this?” she asked, as she pulled out a child-sized dress made from cupcake-pink velvet with a smocked front and a full skirt.

  “My sixth-birthday party dress!” Holly Richardson cried. “I can’t believe my mother kept it this long! Do you remember how much I loved this thing?”

  “Yeah. Now I recognize it! You wore it every chance you got, even after your mom threatened to throw it into the East River.” Emma grinned. “I think I still have some old photos of you in it. Remember that freak warm spell that winter, when my dad took us to the park? We ran around with our coats off blowing bubbles and chasing pigeons.”

  Holly clapped her hands. “I remember that day! Your dad bought us those huge swirly lollipops after we begged and begged for them, and we both ended up with stomachaches.”

  “That was an amazing day. Stomachaches and all.” Emma ran her fingers over the smocking, a little stiff with age but still impeccably crafted. “She kept this for a long time,” she commented. “Why’s your mom getting rid of it now?”

  “Who knows?” Holly shrugged. “Probably it got put away somewhere in the back of a closet, and she just found it. You know she’s not exactly sentimental about stuff like that. She tosses everything.”

  “Yeah, so not like my mom. She still has every single one of my baby teeth. My brother’s, too.”

  “Seriously?” Holly wrinkled her nose. “Gross!”

  “I know.” Holding the dress up, Emma checked her reflection in the gilded, ornate mirror in the foyer of her best friend’s Manhattan apartment. “If I recut this and maybe combined it with, like, a soft plaid flannel or something, I j|j could turn it into a totally cool minidress,” she mused, mentally sketching out the possibilities.

  Holly looked impressed. “You’re amazing, Em. I mean, I know I tell you that all the time, but it’s true. You will totally be a famous fashion designer. You know, someday.”

  Emma’s heart skipped a beat, and she shot her friend a nervous look. Did Holly know? Could she have found out somehow?

  But no. Holly’s face remained open and cheerful as she chewed her gum and poked through the pile of clothes, and Emma relaxed. Her best friend still didn’t know the most incredibly, amazingly, unbelievably fabulous secret Emma had ever had.

  She was Allegra Biscotti.

  Emma still shivered every time she thought about it, hardly daring to believe it was true. She was a real, honest-to-goodness fashion designer! Her clothes had been featured on the hottest fashion blog, StylePaige, and would be appearing in an upcoming issue of Madison magazine. Having to keep a secret like that from Holly—especially today, when they were having such a great time going through the clothes Mrs. Richardson was donating to charity—was pretty much a huge bummer.

  Emma couldn’t do much about it, though. She’d been sworn to secrecy by none other than Paige Young, the senior fashion editor at Madison who’d discovered Allegra Biscotti. Of course, Paige hadn’t discovered Emma was only fourteen until after she’d already featured Emma’s clothes on her StylePaige blog. Emma knew that Paige’s career—not to mention her own—probably depended on keeping Allegra’s true identity as well hidden as a society lady’s Spanx. Still, she wondered, what harm would it do to tell her best friend?

  “You know,” Holly said as she grabbed a lavender pash-mina out of the clothing pile and threw it over her shoulders, “I’m pretty sure Ivana’s dad represents some fashion designers and stuff at his law firm. Maybe she could hook you up. You know, help you meet the right people to get started.”

  Emma’s urge to share her secret popped like one of Holly’s fruity-scented bubble-gum bubbles. Somehow, she’d almost forgotten one very important fact. These days, Holly told Ivana Abbott everything.

  Emma reached into the nearest box and pulled out a full-length bathrobe in a garish floral silk. “Here’s where I show my true design talents,” she joked, slipping into the robe and tying it off with a jaunty bow at one hip. “This will be all the rage in Milan next spring.”

  “Wait, you need the finishing touch.” Grabbing a wide, purple leather belt from the pile, Holly wrapped it around Emma’s upper torso like a bustier. “There!” She put her fingers to her lips and made a dramatic kissing gesture. “Delicious!”

  Emma giggled, glancing at her reflection. She looked ridiculous! She piled her shoulder-length brown hair high on her head and used one of the hair bands from around her wrist to secure it in a very messy twist. Adopting a pouty expression, she stalked across the living room, adding an exaggerated model’s twirl at the far end, while Holly collapsed on the sofa with laughter.

  “Eet eez zee next beeg theeng!” Emma cried in a cartoonish French accent. “Zee height of fashion!”

  “Really? Nobody told me tacky and hideous were back in style.”

  Emma froze. That wasn’t Holly’s voice.

  She spun around. Holly’s older sister, Jennifer, and two of her super-fabulous high-school friends stood in the doorway staring at her. Emma’s face flamed, and she quickly yanked off the purple belt and tossed it back into the pile of clothes. “We, um, were just goofing around,” she muttered.

  She couldn’t quite meet the gaze of the girl who’d spoken, though she found herself admiring the girl’s outfit out of the corner of her eye. Sleek, black skinny jeans; a silver quilted, fitted jacket; and a black nylon hobo bag with a tomato-red lining. Fabulous.

  Emma doubted the girl knew her name, th
ough Emma certainly knew hers. Everyone did. Jennifer and all of her friends were popular, but Rylan Sinclare was pretty much on a different plane. It wasn’t that Rylan was especially beautiful or smart or talented. In fact, she was sort of ordinary looking, with a square face, long nose, and eyes set a little too close together.

  But she was tall and slim and had an air about her, a certain self-confident vibe that exuded from the top of her chin-length, chestnut-brown bob to the tips of her designer shoes (quilted, red suede ballet flats on this particular day), that made everyone pay attention whenever she walked into the room.

  “Playing dress-up is so second grade,” the third girl said with a sniff. Val Capolla was petite with short dreads and a winter-white flared trench coat with chocolate-brown piping and a square, brown suede belt buckle.

  “What are you doing here, Jen?” Holly demanded as Emma peeled off the silk robe, feeling about as sophisticated as that little girl who’d eaten lollipops in the park all those years ago. “I thought you were going to the movies.”

  “So sorry I didn’t have my social secretary notify you about our change of plans.” Jennifer was tall, blond, and gorgeous—pretty much Holly plus two years and a lot of attitude, at least when her snooty friends were around.

  “Whatev.” Holly glared at her older sister. “I was just asking. It’s not like I—”

  The Project Runway elimination jingle cut off Holly’s train of thought.

  “That’s me.” Rylan fished a sleek silver cell out of a fold in the red lining of her bag. “It’s my mother,” she announced after glancing at the phone.

  Val widened her perfectly lined brown eyes. “Are you going to answer?”

  “Are you certifiable?” Rylan stuck the phone back in her bag.

  But a few seconds later, the ringtone blared again. “Your mom?” Jennifer asked.

  Rylan checked the caller ID. “Uh-huh.” She shot her friends a wicked smirk. “Guess this means she found the dress.”

  Jennifer and Val laughed loudly. “Come on, let’s grab those cookies you said you have,” Val said. “I can’t eat that dreck they sell at the theater. Makes me break out.”

  The older girls wandered off toward the kitchen without another glance at Emma and Holly. “Well, that was fun,” Holly commented. “Jen is so lame when she’s around her stuck-up friends.”

  “Yeah, I know. Totally Jekyll and Hyde.” Emma started picking up the clothes she and Holly had strewn around and tossing them back into their boxes. She heard Rylan’s ringtone again, fainter now but still loud enough to carry throughout the apartment. “I wonder what Rylan meant about her mother finding a dress.”

  “It’s always about the clothes with you, isn’t it?” Holly teased. Then she shrugged. “Probably something to do with her Sweet Sixteen.”

  “Is she having a party?”

  “More than that!” Holly’s blue eyes lit up. “Jen says it’s going to be insane! People over at the high school are already going nuts trying to make sure they’re invited, even though nobody even knows when or where it’s going to be yet. Not even Jen and the rest of Rylan’s friends. Totally top secret! Isn’t that crazy cool?”

  “Hmm.” Emma wasn’t sure what else to say. She had more important things on her mind these days than some snobby high-school party. Like setting up an official website for Allegra Biscotti. Sketching and imagining her next designs just in case the Madison feature led to something else... but really because she couldn’t not think about designing. Wondering and worrying whether Allegra’s overnight success had been a fluke.

  But Holly seemed fascinated, so Emma tried to look interested. That was what friends did. Right?

  Jennifer, Rylan, and Val sauntered back into the living room, heading toward the front door. “You’re still here?” Jennifer quipped when she spotted Emma and Holly. Emma winced. She could remember all those afternoons when they were little and Jen would play Polly Pockets with her and Holly, giggling and acting totally silly. That Jen was obviously long gone.

  Rylan laughed. “Why are you surprised?” she said. “Where else do you think they have to go? Especially dressed like that.” Then her phone rang again deep inside her bag.

  “Turn that thing off already, will you?” Jennifer complained. “I don’t want to listen to it all through the movie.”

  “Yeah, good call.” Rylan reached in and clicked a button on the phone. “You know my mother. She’s relentless.”

  All three girls laughed as they hurried out. Emma was glad to see them go. Most kids at Downtown Day School admired Rylan and wanted to be around her. But as far as Emma was concerned, Rylan was just an older, slightly better dressed and even more obnoxious version of Ivana. What did otherwise sane people like Holly and Jennifer see in girls like that, anyway?

  She jumped at the familiar chirping of Holly’s ringtone. Holly pounced on a pile of clothes, digging through it until she found her phone. She glanced at the caller ID, then grinned and pressed the phone to her ear.

  “Ivana? What’s up, girl?” she exclaimed. Emma’s heart sank. She should have known her fun Saturday afternoon with Holly was too good to be true. It had been like this since school started this year. Not bothering to listen as Holly chattered cheerfully into the phone, Emma wandered out into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge.

  “Call you back in a sec,” Holly said as Emma came back into the living room. “Bye.” She clicked off the phone and glanced over. “That was Ivana.”

  “Yeah, I heard.” Emma twisted the cap off the water bottle. “I thought she had some kind of family thing today.”

  “Canceled.” Holly smiled hopefully. “She just invited us to come meet her and the girls at Narcissia.”

  “Us?” Emma echoed. “Or you?”

  Holly blew a purple bubble and popped it. “What’s the diff?” she asked. “I told her you and I are hanging out today, so she knows we come as a set. Anyway, they’re trying to help Lexie pick out something new to wear when she hangs out with Jackson tonight.”

  Emma winced. Lexie Blackburn was one of Ivana’s three BFFs-slash-admirers, collectively known as the Ivana-Bees, as in “I Wanna Be Ivana.” Jackson Creedon was the new boy in school and pretty much Emma’s dream guy. Put Jackson and the Ivana-Bees together, and what did you have? Basically, Emma’s worst nightmare.

  Holly caught her eye, looking sympathetic. “Sorry. But look, you’d definitely be able to help her find a perfect outfit. I also totally understand if you don’t want to help Lexie look hot for Jackson. If you don’t want to go, I’ll tell Ivana we can’t make it.”

  Was Holly really willing to pass up an afternoon with Ivana and the Bees for her? This was serious progress. Maybe things weren’t as weird between them as she’d thought. Maybe all those years of being best friends still counted.

  She eyed Holly and immediately knew. Holly was really hoping she’d say yes. Emma had seen that look so many times before. “You go,” she said instead. “I need to head home anyway. I’m technically still grounded, remember?”

  “Oh right, I forgot. We were supposed to be studying for that world history test, weren’t we?” Holly grinned. “Oops!”

  “Yeah. So have fun shopping and I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” Emma reached for the pink, smocked child’s dress. “Think your mom would mind if I took this?”

  “Are you kidding? She won’t even notice. Take it.” Holly smiled. “I’ll text you later.”

  Moments later, as Emma walked down the hushed, carpeted hallway of Holly’s apartment building, she replayed what had just happened. Holly had seemed sincerely willing to turn down Ivana’s invitation if Emma wanted. But she hadn’t exactly tried to change Emma’s mind when she’d offered to leave either. So who did Holly like better? Emma or Ivana? It was hard to tell.

  Once inside the elevator, Emma tucked the child’s dress into her black canvas messenger bag, which she had decorate
d in zebra stripes with a silver Sharpie, and pulled out a sketchbook. By the time the doors slid open in the lobby, she had the sweet, pink dress halfway redesigned into a chic, modern mini. Her feet automatically carried her down the sidewalk of Holly’s tree-lined Upper East Side street toward the nearest subway station. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

  “Yo,” Charlie Calhoun’s familiar voice answered on the second ring.

  “Hi,” Emma said. “What’s up? Are you working on the site?”

  “I’ve been slaving away all day. The people at Tome probably think I’ve moved in permanently.”

  Emma smiled, picturing him sitting at one of the rickety, mismatched tables in their favorite funky little hole-in-the-wall independent bookstore, creating a website for Allegra Biscotti. “Thanks for doing this. You know computer stuff puts me to sleep even faster than math class.”

  “You stick to the fashion, and I’ll take care of the tech.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I—” Emma stopped short as she heard a strange buzzing from inside her bag. What was that? The buzz sounded again, and suddenly the answer hit her. “Oops, hold on a sec,” she told Charlie, jamming her cell between her cheek and her shoulder as she reached into her bag. “The Allegra phone’s ringing.”

  The new website wasn’t the only new requirement from Paige. She also wanted Emma to have a separate phone just for Allegra’s calls. Yesterday after school Emma and Charlie had picked out a sleek cherry-colored flip phone that seemed perfect for Allegra. This was the first time it had rung. She would definitely have to find a new ringtone!

  “Hold on, hold on,” she muttered as she dug deeper into her bag, searching for the phone as it buzzed again. “Where are you?”

  “What?” Charlie’s voice drifted into her ear.

  “Not talking to you.” Emma twisted her head around, trying not to drop her own phone as she searched for the other. Why hadn’t she put Allegra’s phone in the little pouch where she kept hers?