Lights, Camera, Fashion! Read online

  - - - - Chapter 1 - - - -

  To Thine Own Self Be . . . Blue?

  When I thought seventh grade would be so much better than sixth grade, I forgot that CERTAIN PEOPLE—mainly one certain person—would still think their job is to make life at Mapleton Prep difficult. Everyone always says you just have to ignore those people, but it’s not easy, because they’re in school every day. When I feel blue about it, Dad says I should follow Shakespeare’s advice and “Above all, to thine own self be true,” which is a fancy way of telling me to be myself and stop caring so much what everyone else thinks. It’s easy for him to say—he’s not in middle school.

  Speaking of being true to yourself, Aunt Lulu took me to see a Frida Kahlo exhibit at the art museum over the weekend. Frida’s life was so sad, but her art . . . WOW! It jumped off the walls and hit you in the face, as if it was saying, “This is me. Deal with it!” For a person who was often in pain, her paintings were bursting with energy.

  Anyway, what I loved the most was that her self-portraits showed off her style: She mixed and matched bright colors, paired embroidered square tunics with lace-trimmed skirts, and wore flowers or ribbons in her hair (which kind of made it look like she was wearing a crown, at least to me.) I loved it all and would give just about anything to go shopping in her closet. And I totally want to wear flowers in my hair from now on. I did a sketch of a few outfits inspired by Frida’s wardrobe with a silk flower, lace, and tons of embroidery. Maybe it seems like too much, but if I make it, I’ll just wear it with confidence like Frida did.

  I also want to go to Mexico someday to visit Frida Kahlo’s house, La Casa Azul. There are so many places I want to go! But the only place I can go right now is to bed. Dad just shouted, “Lights out!” since it’s a school night. Feeling less blue already! Thanks for listening.

  xo,

  Zoey

  “I think you’re going to love this one,” Ms. Brown said, winking at Zoey Webber as she handed her a copy of what the class was going to read next. Zoey turned the book over. When she saw the title, The Misfits, her heart sank. English was her favorite class and her teacher, Ms. Brown, seemed to really understand her. Did Ms. Brown think she was a misfit? Not that she wanted to be just like everyone else, but . . . “misfit” implied there was something wrong with her, like she was an odd piece in a puzzle that would otherwise fit together perfectly.

  Zoey turned to the description on the back of the book. “Sticks and stones may break our bones but names will break our spirit.” The synopsis said that the kids in the story wanted to be seen for who they really were inside, instead of “as the one-word jokes their classmates have tried to reduce them to.”

  Okay, maybe it’s worth a try, she thought.

  Just then the PA system hissed to life. “Good morning, Mapleton Prep students. This is Ms. Austen,” the principal said through the loudspeaker. “I have a special announcement. We are having our first dance of the year in a few weeks! This time it’s going to be a Sadie Hawkins dance.”

  From the murmurs of “What’s that?” and “Sadie who?” Zoey could tell she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what that meant, but Ms. Austen continued.

  “A Sadie Hawkins dance is also called a Vice Versa dance, because instead of the boys asking the girls to the dance, it’s vice versa. Ladies, this is your chance to do the asking, and, gentlemen, you can sit back, relax, and wait for your invitations. Tickets go on sale tomorrow.”

  The class erupted as soon as the announcement ended. Zoey wished she could talk to her friend Kate Mackey, but Kate was at a dentist appointment.

  “Why do we have to wait for the girls to ask us?” Joe Latrone complained. “That’s not fair!”

  “Do we have to ask a boy?” Shannon Chang spoke up. “Can we just wait for them to ask us?”

  “You don’t have to ask a boy,” Ms. Brown told her. “You can go with a group of friends. And, Joe, why is it any more fair for a girl to wait for you to ask her?”

  “I don’t know.” Joe shrugged. “ ‘That’s how it happens.”

  “Yeah,” Rob Palmer said. “It’s how it’s always been.”

  “Well, this time it’ll happen differently,” Ms. Brown said. “If we always stuck to the status quo, we’d still have slavery and women wouldn’t have the vote. Sometimes change is good.”

  Ms. Brown started class, but as soon as they broke into their small-group discussions, talk turned to the dance and what to wear. Ivy Wallace was in the group next to Zoey’s. Zoey heard her boasting that she had the perfect dress. Zoey wondered what that looked like.

  Suddenly, Ivy turned around and said, “I bet you’re going to turn up in one of those stupid craft projects from your blog. That’ll attract a lot of dates!”

  Zoey lifted her chin and tried to ignore Ivy and the giggles she heard from the other kids in Ivy’s group, but Ivy’s remark still hurt her just as much. She tried to remind herself of all the great comments she got about her designs from her blog readers.

  “I’ll go with Zoey.”

  It was Gabe Monaco, the guy who sat in front of her. Zoey didn’t even know him that well. He was always nice to her, but it wasn’t like they were friends or anything. And she didn’t have a crush on him, the way she did on . . . someone else.

  Zoey smiled. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you.”

  “I mean it,” he said.

  “I know,” Zoey said, but that just made her more confused. Was he just being nice because Ivy was being mean, or was he asking her? Wasn’t this supposed to be a Vice Versa dance? She just smiled back at Gabe, unsure of what to say or do. Zoey never felt more saved by the bell than when it rang and she could escape to her next class.

  When Zoey and her best friends, Kate Mackey, Priti Holbrooke, and Libby Flynn, met for lunch, the Sadie Hawkins dance was the number-one topic of conversation.

  “Okay, we’ve got two important things to figure out,” Priti announced. “Who to ask and what to wear.”

  “I have no idea who to ask,” Libby said. “I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

  “Not even the teensiest little hint of a crush?” Zoey asked.

  “Nope,” Libby said. “Not even a smidgen.”

  “Neither do I,” Kate confessed. “I was thinking maybe I could ask someone from the soccer team. Or the swim team. You know, like, a guy friend.”

  “None of you have crushes?” Priti asked, amazed. “I have one, and I’m definitely asking him.”

  “Who?” Libby asked. “Spill!”

  “Felix Egerton. He’s in my social studies class, and he’s soooo cute!”

  “I know Felix,” Kate said. “He’s on the soccer team.”

  “Tell me everything!” Priti demanded. “What’s he like?”

  “Um . . . I guess he’s nice. I don’t really know him that well,” Kate said. “Just from practice. We don’t hang out or anything.”

  “Has he ever mentioned my name?” Priti asked.

  Kate picked at her sandwich crust. “No, but . . . it’s not like we talk that much, so I wouldn’t take it as a sign of anything.”

  “What about you, Zoey?” Libby asked. “Do you have a wild crush you’re dying to ask?”

  “Well, I still kind of like, you know . . .” She paused, afraid to tell anyone, but these were her best friends, after all. “Here goes . . . I was thinking of asking . . . Lorenzo Romy.”

  “He’s cute!” Priti said. “You should go for it!”

  “I want to, but just the thought of going up and asking him makes me want to throw up,” Zoey confessed. “And that wouldn’t make him want to go with me, would it?”

  “Um, no!” Libby giggled. “That would be a deal breaker.”

  “Let’s talk abou
t something more fun, like what we’re going to wear,” Zoey said, because thinking about asking Lorenzo was making her queasy.

  “I don’t have a date, but I have a dress,” Libby said. “I’m going to wear that awesometastic pink ruffled birthday-cake dress Zoey made me.”

  It gave Zoey the warm fuzzies knowing Libby loved the dress she made so much that she wanted to wear it to the dance.

  “At least you don’t think my designs are ‘stupid craft projects.’ ” She sighed.

  Her friends all stared at her like she had suddenly dyed her hair magenta.

  “Why would I think that?” Libby asked.

  “I know, right? That’s totally crazy,” Priti said.

  Zoey told them about what Ivy said in English.

  “Oh, Zo, don’t let Ivy get to you,” Kate said.

  “I know,” Zoey said. “I should ignore her. But how come the bad stuff people say always sticks in your head more than the good things?”

  “Good question,” Priti said. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’d love nothing better than to go to the dance with Felix in an original design by Sew Zoey.”

  “Me too,” Kate said. “Except not with Felix, obviously.”

  “I’d love to design dresses for you!” Zoey exclaimed.

  As soon as Zoey started thinking about designs for her friends, Ivy’s comments didn’t seem to matter as much.

  “It’s all settled, then,” Priti said. “Now the rest of you just have to figure out who to ask. It’s as simple as that.”

  Zoey wished it were as simple as that. Designing dresses wasn’t simple, but it was something she was comfortable doing. Asking a boy to a dance? Well, that was another story. . . .

  - - - - Chapter 2 - - - -

  Kate’s Date with Fate

  Guess what? We’ve got a dance coming up and get this: It’s a Sadie Hawkins, or Vice Versa, dance, which means the girls have to ask the boys. I know, right? It’s bad enough having to worry if someone is going to ask you, but now I have to the asking. If you’re wondering, yes, I have someone in mind to ask, but no, I haven’t gotten up the courage yet. It’s easier to think about fun stuff like designing dresses for my friends to wear.

  I’ve attached a sketch of ideas for Kate’s dress. I want to make something really pretty, but not in a flashy way—just like her. Also, I want to make it a shape and material that’s easy to wear, since she’s not big on dresses. Maybe sparkle-dotted tulle would be just enough to make it feel special without being too much for her.

  What did you wear to your middle school dance? And while I’m asking questions, I might as well ask the one thing I really want to know: Did you ever ask out a boy? How did you do it? Was it really awkward? Every time I think about asking You Know Who—well, okay, You Don’t Know Who —it makes my tummy churn like a washer on the spin cycle. See, there it goes right now! I’d better start thinking about something safer, like the dress I’m going to design for Priti!

  “Have you asked anyone yet?” Priti said as the girls walked into The Perfect Ten nail salon for a manipedi treat. Libby shot her a look. “Not in front of my mom!” she hissed.

  “I heard nothing. I’m hard of hearing in that ear,” Libby’s mom said, her lips twitching. “I’ll go find myself a magazine and be hard of hearing somewhere else.”

  “Great idea, Mom,” Libby said. “We’ll pick our polish.”

  As usual, Zoey and Libby headed for the bright colors, Priti gravitated to the glitter, and Kate made a beeline for the pale pink section since they looked the most natural.

  “Do you think this one clashes with my hair?” Libby asked, holding up a bottle of red polish.

  “Ooh!” Zoey exclaimed. “There was an article in Très Chic about redheads! It said you should hold the bottle up to the inside of your wrist to see if it matches your skin tone.”

  Libby held the nail polish to her wrist. “Sooo . . . what does that tell me?”

  “It looks good to me,” Zoey said.

  “If Sew Zoey says it doesn’t clash, that’s all I need to know,” Libby said.

  Zoey picked a fluorescent lime-green shade called Gargantuan Green Grape.

  “Wow, that’s really bright,” Kate said. She was holding a bottle of pale pink polish.

  “Do you think my nails will look big in it?” Zoey joked.

  “Oh no!” Kate said, afraid she’d offended Zoey. She rolled the bottle of polish in her hand. “It’s just . . . you know me. I don’t like to stand out.”

  “That’s why you have to try something new instead of the same pink,” Priti argued. “You need to step it up a little, girl.” She picked up bottle of fuchsia. “Here. Pink Before You Leap. It’s perfect.”

  Kate’s eyes widened in horror. “Perfect for you, maybe. It’s too . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Zoey knew Kate was trying to figure out a way to say why it wasn’t right for her without hurting Priti’s feelings. “Priti, you know Kate only likes to stand out on the sports field.”

  “You’re right.” Priti shrugged, picking up a sparkly silver polish that looked like the inside of a snow globe. “I guess she wouldn’t be cool with Glitzerland, either.”

  Kate shook her head.

  “Is the skiing good in Glitzerland?” Libby asked.

  “OMG, it’s the best,” Priti said. “Because when you wipe out, everything sparkles.”

  They were all giggling as they walked back to the pedicure chairs. Once they were settled, Priti looked around to make sure Libby’s mother was out of earshot.

  “Okay, so . . . has anyone asked a date to the dance yet?”

  Kate looked down at her toes. Libby looked at the ceiling. Zoey inspected her nails.

  “I haven’t. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick,” Zoey said.

  “I haven’t either,” Libby confessed.

  “That makes three of us.” Kate sighed.

  “Well, I’m going to ask Felix first thing on Monday because I don’t want anyone else to ask him first,” Priti said. Zoey couldn’t believe how confident she sounded about the whole thing. “And you guys should hurry up and ask too so we all have someone to go with.”

  “How am I supposed to hurry up and ask when I have no idea who to ask?” Libby groaned.

  “There’s got to be someone,” Priti insisted.

  “Nope. There isn’t.” Libby said.

  “I’m in the same boat,” Kate said. “I don’t really like anyone.”

  “I just don’t know how to ask Lorenzo,” Zoey admitted.

  “Walk up to him, hopefully when he’s alone, and say, ‘Lorenzo, do you want to go to the dance with me?’ ” Priti suggested.

  Zoey, Libby, and Kate exchanged glances. They all loved Priti, but there were times when she just didn’t seem to get that they weren’t as confident as she was.

  “He’s never alone. Maybe if I had his cell number, I could text him, but I don’t. Maybe you could feel him out for me,” Zoey said to Priti.

  “I guess I could,” Priti said.

  “Do you think anyone will break the rules?” Kate asked.

  “What do you mean?” Libby said.

  “I mean, a boy asking a girl, even though it’s a Vice Versa dance,” Kate explained.

  “You know what they say: Rules are made to be broken,” Priti said. “But I think it’s safer to ask rather than wait to be asked. Besides, it’s a Vice Versa dance. That’s part of the fun.”

  “I know,” Kate said. “But I still wish I didn’t have to ask anyone.”

  “Me too.” Libby sighed.

  “I don’t think that part’s fun at all,” Zoey said.

  “Come on, you guys!” Priti said. “Didn’t you read the comments on Zoey’s blog? Lots of people asked out boys in high school.”

  “Yeah, and a few of them said it was the most mortifying experience ever!” Zoey said.

  “How are the pedicures going?” Mrs. Flynn stopped to check on them on the way to get her manicure. Zoey was grateful
for the interruption. Anything to change the subject!

  Zoey could hear the crash and beat of Marcus practicing his drums in the basement when she walked into the house. She headed down and sat on the bottom step, waiting for the end of the song.

  “What’s up, Zo?”

  She held up her hands. “What do you think?”

  “If we have a power outage, I’ll just look for your nails,” Marcus said, grinning.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “As long as it’s not about nail polish.”

  Zoey told Marcus about the Vice Versa dance. “There’s this guy I want to ask, but . . . every time I think about asking him, I feel like I’m going to throw up. So I figured since you’re, you know, a guy, you could give me some advice.”

  Marcus threw his drumsticks into the air and caught them. “Well . . . number one, don’t giggle. There’s nothing worse than a girl who giggles all the time. So annoying.”

  “Okay, no giggling. Anything else?”

  Marcus pondered. “Oh! Don’t get someone else to ask if he likes you or to ask him to the dance for you.”

  Uh-oh . . .

  “Why not get someone to find out if he likes you if it saves humiliation?” Zoey asked.

  “Because everyone ends up knowing, and then there’s all this drama,” Marcus said.

  “Hello? Anyone home?”

  “Down here, Dad!” Marcus shouted.

  Mr. Webber’s feet appeared first, followed by the rest of him. His cheeks were ruddy after being outside at the Eastern State University football game. He was the university’s head physical therapist, so he went to most of their games.

  “Did you win?” Zoey asked.

  “Not this time. Got beat 38–17.” Her dad sighed. “Defense was half asleep today.”

  Zoey hugged her father. “There’s always next weekend.”

  “True. I’ll make sure to bring them a Box of Joe before the game next week,” he said. “So what are you two plotting down here?”

  “Nothing,” Zoey said.

  “Zo wanted to know how to ask out a boy,” Marcus said, ignoring his sister’s don’t tell Dad look.

  Mr. Webber sank onto the old, worn sofa they kept down in the basement for when Marcus’s friends came over to jam.