Bead-Dazzled
Authors: Olivia Bennett
Copyright © 2014 Downtown Bookworks
All rights reserved.
Cover and interior designed and illustrated by Georgia Rucker
June 2014
ISBN 9781941367063
Downtown Bookworks Inc.
285 West Broadway, New York, New York 10013
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
“H
ow many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone.”
—Coco Chanel
CONTENTS
NEW YEAR, NEW YOU
E
mma Rose eyed the mess on the living room floor. Christmas gifts had long been tucked away in bedrooms or the kitchen or wherever her mother could find an extra inch of space in their cramped three-bedroom apartment, but what was left was the real treasure. Ribbon—tons of it. Red satin, green glitter, and gold organza were always nice. But there was also a shimmery silver, pearly white cord, and velvet in deep purple.
“Seriously, Em, you totally don’t get the gift thing,” her brother William had complained on Christmas morning. “You take forever to open a present.”
The whole family had watched as Emma carefully lifted each piece of clear tape with her fingernail so as not to rip the wrapping. Ribbon was slowly unknotted and peeled away. Her parents sat back, savoring big mugs of coffee. Unlike her younger brother, they understood Emma’s quirks when it came to crafts and fashion.
“I’m going to make such fabulous things!” Emma had exclaimed. For her, the real gift was the wrapping. She loved Aunt Melissa’s presents most of all, with their whirlwind of ribbon, sparkle, and even sprigs of holly. It would all find its way into craft projects—woven ribbon headbands and notebook covers, ribbon-trimmed lampshades and purses, whimsically adorned jars for her sketching pencils….
Now, a week later, Emma reached for the lengths of turquoise grosgrain and iridescent ivory ribbon. The colors were reminiscent of magical oceans far away from the steel-gray clouds that blanketed the city outside her windows.
Over, under, in, out,
she chanted under her breath, as the woven square bloomed under her fingers. She imagined a mermaid with a shimmery tail sitting on a rock. She wore a bikini top made from the woven ribbon. The colors flowed from light to dark and, maybe, back again. Her fingertips brushed the braided patch, admiring its weight and sturdiness.
I could extend the top and make a cute mini dress,
she thought.
The ribbon had just enough stretch to settle over the curve of hips. No longer a mermaid—a dress for a girl in a music video. If she added silver and gold ribbon, the dress would catch the light as the beautiful girl danced.
Emma reached for her sketchbook lying among the ribbon on the hardwood floor. She was never without one of the silk brocade-covered books filled with thick, creamy white paper. She never knew when an idea would hit. The idea didn’t have to be great to add to the book. One idea led to another. Bits of one design found their way into another design.
Emma had filled dozens of these sketchbooks with her designs over the last few years alone. Sundresses, skirts, capri pants, ball gowns, swim suits, even space suits.
Her pencil moved in a quick, confident motion. She shaded in the crosshatch marks to show the texture of the ribbon. The doorbell rang and her hand jerked, leaving an ugly mark across the page. She frowned, reaching for her eraser. The doorbell rang again. It took a minute to remember that she was the only one home. Her parents had left for dinner with the Duncans, who lived two floors up. Will was sleeping over at his friend Sean’s apartment.
She padded through their narrow front hall in her fuzzy purple socks. On tiptoes, she peered through the door’s peephole.
Oh, no! What time was it? How had she forgotten?
Glancing down at her stretchy yoga pants and zip-up hoodie, Emma debated if she could bolt to her bedroom and change really fast.
“I know you’re there, Emma,” Charlie Calhoun’s raspy voice rang out. He leaned on the doorbell. She had no choice. She opened the door.
“Seriously, Em?” Holly Richardson placed her hands on her hips. Emma admired the short, simple pale-pink shift dress her friend wore. Holly had paired it with black textured tights and black suede flats, and her long legs seemed to stretch on forever.
“I know, I know,” Emma began. “It’s just that I started making this fabric out of the holiday ribbons and it was coming out so cool that I—”
“Floated off into a fashion fog and forgot about your best friends and the big party,” Charlie finished knowingly.
“Something like that,” Emma admitted. Fashion always had a way of nudging everything else aside. “Your glasses say it all, don’t they?” Charlie wore crazy lime-green glasses with HAPPY NEW YEAR scrawled across the top of them.
“I like my holidays. No point going to a party if you’re not going to do it big.”
That was Charlie—all or nothing. Never wishy-washy. He even had noisemakers poking out of the pockets of the worn denim shirt he wore over narrow whale-gray cords.
“You, however, need to show a little New Year’s spirit.” Charlie pushed his hand through his spiky blond hair. “That outfit’s lame, especially for you.” Charlie was also brutally honest.
“You should go without me. I’m kind of into this fabric thing and—”
“You’re scared to go,” Holly finished, pushing past Emma and into the apartment. Charlie followed and shut the door firmly behind them.
“I’m not scared of the Ivana-Bees or their party,” Emma said. “It’s a bunch of snobby airhead girls and dumb boys prancing around all night. Why bother?”
“Em, come on. You promised you’d try. For me.” Holly widened her water-blue eyes hopefully at Emma.
“Ivana and her friends don’t want me there,” Emma added. Back when middle school first started, they’d named Ivana Abbott’s followers the Bees—as in “I Wanna Be Ivana.” Holly had always made fun of them with Emma, but this year Holly had been dangerously close to joining the hive.
“I want you there,” Holly insisted. She wasn’t letting Emma back out this time. “And it’s New Year’s!”
“Word is Kayla Levine’s apartment is insane. That interior designer, you know the one with the TV show, Ricardo what’s-his-name, did it. The whole place is red and white. We’ve
got
to see that.” Charlie wiggled his eyebrows. Emma loved anything to do with design. Sofa fabric was just a notch down from dress fabric.
Emma twirled a strand of her shoulder-length pale brown hair around her finger. Holly kept saying that there was another side to Ivana. Some secret sweet side that she kept hidden. Way hidden. Emma sighed. She’d promised Holly she would give Ivana a chance. New Years was meant for throwing out the old and bringing in the new.
“Okay.” She raised her arms in surrender. “I’m going, but not for Ivana or Kayla. Best friends need to ring in the new year together.”
Holly squeezed her in a hug. She smelled of vanilla and figs.
“Get dressed!” Charlie ordered.
Emma hurried to her bedroom and surveyed her closet. She had no idea what to wear. A little black dress? Nice but boring. Her eyes scanned the crowded rack.
The red sequined tube dress that she’d found last summer at the vintage shop on the Lower East Side called to her. Nothing said New Years Eve like sequins. The dress was fun and, if she paired it with skinny jeans and short boots, it wouldn’t be too dressy. She shimmied into the outfit and pulled a brush through her hair. Ready to go!
Before they left, Emma texted her dad and he agreed to pick her up at Kayla’s. Ten minutes after midnight and no later, he insisted. He was usually a softie, but Emma didn’t push him tonight. That was late enough. She linked arms with Holly and Charlie and the three of them rode the elevator downstairs and shared a taxi twenty blocks uptown.
A doorman in a stiff cranberry blazer with gold braiding on the shoulders directed them to the Levines’ apartment on the 36
th
floor. As they waited for the elevator, Emma mentally redesigned the jacket. A softer, more-forgiving fabric was needed. Perhaps felted wool. And a cool insignia or monogram instead of the costume-like braiding, she thought.
Long before the door opened, the thump of music snaked its way into the elevator and into Emma’s designing thoughts. She held tightly to Charlie’s arm as he pushed his way through a sea of teenage bodies extending into the depths of Kayla’s apartment and into the living room.
