Royal Icing (9 page)

Many thanks to everyone who has embraced The Cupcake Club book series, including in its new form—as an Off-Broadway musical! We love our fans and audiences! Rick Hip-Flores: you are a genius. Broadway beckons!

To the Kahns, Berks, and Saps: as always, thank you for your love and support!

To our friends, new and old, you make life so sweet! Trevor girls rock!

Holly/Maggie: we love that you read our book before it ever hits shelves! XO

A special shout-out to Derry Wilkens, who we will miss dearly at Sourcebooks. What will we do without our whiz of a publicist? Steve, Jillian, Kate, Alex, and the whole gang: thank you for making the process so easy and fun. Katherine Latshaw/Frank Weimann and the Folio group: thanks for taking such good care of our beloved book series and us.

The trip over the Brooklyn Bridge to the Fashion Academy of Brooklyn—aka FAB—had taken longer than she expected, but Mickey Williams didn't mind the bumper-to-bumper traffic or the honking horns. She was taking it all in: the sights and sounds that were New York City, fashion capital of the world! As the kids filed off the school bus, she was able to get a better look at what they were all wearing. She saw several Abercrombie hoodies, a few Brandy Melville graphic tees, and countless pairs of Superga sneakers in boring tennis white.

What happened to pushing the envelope? she wondered. Where was the creativity? The originality? They all looked like carbon copies of each other. FAB was supposed to be cutting edge; a place where the fashion designers of the future went to school! She had convinced her mom there was nowhere else in the world she wanted to go, even if it meant leaving her home in Philadelphia and living with her Aunt Olive in a cramped Upper West Side apartment.

Mickey walked up the steps to the school's huge gray concrete and glass doors. Even the building looked boring.

A voice behind her read her mind. “You were expecting something a bit more artsy, right?”

She turned to see a short boy carrying a tote bag that was almost as big as he was.

“I guess,” Mickey replied. “I'm not sure what I was expecting.”

“You're new,” he said, climbing the steps. “Sixth-grader?”

Mickey nodded. “You?”

“Seventh. I'm Javen Cumberbatch.” He dug in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a business card. Mickey read it: “JC Canine Couture.”

“You design for dogs?” she gasped.

The boy raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn't be so judgy, Miss ‘I colored my hair with chalk to look like a salad.'”

“It's green, okay? I like green.”

He chuckled. “Apparently. I can tell from the splatter paint on your shirt and pants. But your bag rocks. Reall
y.” Mickey had stitched together two flannel dust bags used to protect designer purses—one that read PRADA, the other Louis Vuitton—and attached two belts for handles. Total cost from her thrift store scavenger hunt: $4.

Mickey smiled and noticed that JC's bag was moving. “Is there something in there?” she whispered.

He unzipped the top of his tote and a tiny wet nose poked out. “Madonna the Chihuahua, meet…what's your name again?”

“Mickey. Mickey Williams.”

“Don't tell anyone, okay?” he said, zipping Madonna back into her home. “No dogs on FAB property. Mr. Kaye would have a fit. But she's kind of my mascot. She goes where I go.”

“I promise. Your secret is safe with me,” Mickey replied. “But who's Mr. Kaye?”

“Only the toughest Apparel Arts teacher in the entire school.”

“Oh,” Mickey gulped.

“You definitely want to watch out for him…and those two.” He motioned to the curb where a large black stretch limo was pulling up. A girl and a boy stepped out, waving to the crowd of students as if they were royalty.

Mickey wrinkled her nose. “Who are they?”

“The Lee Twins. They're in my grade. Their mom is Bridget Lee, wedding designer to the stars.”

Mickey whistled through her teeth. “Whoa! She's super-famous.”

“Exacterooni,” JC replied. “So steer clear of Blake and Jake. Or as I prefer to call them, Tweedle Mean and Meaner.”

Mickey stared at the pair. They looked fairly normal, if not a bit fancy for the first day of school. Blake was wearing white lace shorts and a white chiffon halter top. Her long black hair was pulled back in a rhinestone headband that looked like a tiara. Jake was dressed in a white linen suit with a baby blue polo shirt underneath.

When Blake was done air-kissing all her friends on both cheeks, she took her pink, crushed velvet Chanel backpack from the limo driver and slung it over one shoulder.

“Wow. That bag's not even available yet. It's in the Spring collection,” Mickey remarked.

“You know your runway—that's a plus,” the boy told her before rushing off to his first class. “Good luck on your first day, Green Girl.”

• • •

Mickey tried to decipher her schedule and find her way around FAB's long and winding hallways. There were six floors with design studios on each. In the basement was the FAB auditorium, complete with a real runway worthy of New York or Paris Fashion Week.

Besides the basic middle school classes—math, science, English, and a foreign language—there were two design classes every day.

“Is this Studio 6B? Apparel Arts?” she asked, panting from the climb up all those flights.

A dapper-looking gentleman with graying hair, a mustache, and a plaid bow tie peered at her over the tops of his wire-rimmed spectacles. “And you might be?”

“Lost. I'm lost. I went to two other studios on this floor and they told me I was in the wrong place.”

The man tapped his mechanical pencil against his chin. “You don't say? Well, then congratulations. You've come to the right place. Take a seat.”

He pointed to a drafting table a few feet from his desk. Mickey looked around the room and noticed the rest of the class was whispering and giggling.

“Is there a problem?” the teacher asked.

“No, no problem,” Mickey said, sliding into her seat. She could feel the eyes on the back of her neck.

“Good. Then we can begin. I am Mr. Kaye and this is Apparel Arts 1. Everyone in this class is either new to FAB—or flunked my class last semester.” He stared in disapproval at the boy sitting in the desk next to Mickey.

Mickey gulped. This was the teacher JC had warned her about, and she'd already made a bad first impression.

“Every week, you will sketch, design, and create a design based on a theme I assign you,” Mr. Kaye began. “At the end of the semester, you will present a ten-piece collection on the runway before a panel consisting of myself, my fellow teachers, and special celebrity guests.”

He stood up in front of the SMART Board and drew a big number “1” on it. “Your first challenge will be due in class tomorrow. I will be judging along with your peers.”

Mickey's hand shot up. “Excuse me. Peers? We get to judge each other?”

The boy next to her groaned. “No, the winner of the FAB Spring Fashion Show gets to judge the first challenge of the semester. Duh.”

Mickey looked confused.

“Blake Lee,” the boy whispered. “Get a clue, will ya?”

Mr. Kaye continued. “The theme is World Hunger Day. I would like you to design an original T-shirt that encompasses the theme while demonstrating creativity and originality. I don't want to see something I've already seen before. Any questions?”

Mickey's hand went up again. “Can we use whatever materials we want?” she asked.

“As long as you stick to the budget: no more than ten dollars for the entire design, top to bottom.”

A girl in the back row held up a scrap of fabric. “That's impossible. I want to use lavender cashmere silk, and that's way more than ten dollars a yard.”

“And we only have till tomorrow?” another boy protested. “Seriously? I'm gonna be up all night sewing!”

“Work it out,” Mr. Kaye said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Work it out.”

“Whenever he says that, you know you're in trouble,” the boy next to Mickey whispered. “That's what he said right before he gave me a big fat F on my final.”

“You may sketch for the remainder of the period,” their teacher added. “In silence.”

When Mickey got home from school she knew exactly what she needed to do—and she had to work fast on her Apparel Arts homework assignment before Aunt Olive got home from her job and started asking questions.

She rummaged through the fridge and cupboard shelves and started putting things out on the kitchen table: dried cranberries, beets, carrots, raspberries, blueberries, and pistachio nuts. Her World Hunger Day T-shirt would be entirely decorated with actual food! For the first time she was grateful that her aunt was a vegetarian with a wide array of colored fruits and veggies to choose from. She took a basic white tee and laid it inside a large bowl. Then she began crushing the beets and berries till it was streaked with purple, red, and blue smudges. She used a needle to pierce the cranberries and secure them with thread to the neckline of the shirt. Finally, she used a hot glue gun to adhere the pistachio nuts to the cuffs of the arms.

She stood back and admired her handiwork. It still needed something. But what? She opened the fridge again and spied the perfect thing: a huge head of red cabbage. She quickly stripped off the leaves and sewed them to the hem of the shirt. From a distance, they looked like purple and white ruffles.

Just then, she heard Aunt Olive's key in the door. She quickly swept all the leftover food and mashed berries into the garbage and tried to wipe the red stains off the countertop.

“Mackenzie? Are you home?” her aunt called.

“Um, I'm in the kitchen. Be out in a sec!” she folded the T-shirt and quickly tucked it into a plastic freezer bag which she tossed into her backpack.

“Oh, good,” Olive said, walking to the sink to wash her hands. “You can help me sauté the red cabbage for dinner.”

Mickey gulped. “The red cabbage?”

Olive opened the fridge and searched. “Yes, I was sure I put it right here on the third shelf.”

Mickey thought quick. “Oh, that red cabbage. I'm so sorry, Aunt Olive. I ate it for my afterschool snack.”

Olive stared. “You ate an entire head of red cabbage? Raw?”

“Yeah, it was really yummy. I couldn't help myself.”

“Well,” Olive replied, wiping her hands on her apron. “I'll just have to run out to the grocery and get another. And if you like it so much, I'll get you one for tomorrow as well.”

Mickey breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, that would be great. Thanks.”

She waited till she heard the door slam to call her mom back in Philadelphia.

“How was your first day, Mickey Mouse?” her mom was dying to know.

“It was good, just different,” Mickey explained. “I'm really excited for my Apparel Arts assignment that's due tomorrow. I think I rocked it.”

“Of course you did,” her mom replied. “I would expect nothing less. Did you make friends?”

“Um, yeah, a couple. This boy JC is nice.”

“Is Aunt Olive driving you up the wall yet?” her mom pushed. “Is she making you eat kale milkshakes for breakfast?”

“She just went out to get us some dinner,” Mickey said. “Don't worry. I'm fine.”

She heard a client in the background asking her mom something about waterproof mascara. “Gotta run, Mouse! Call ya later!”

Convincing her mom FAB was fab was one thing; convincing her best friend was another.

“Are the girls stuck up?” Annabelle wanted to know when Mickey called her next. “I bet they are, right?”

Mickey told her all about Blake and Jake's grand entrance and how JC carried his Chihuahua to classes.

“These kids sound really weird,” Annabelle said. “I got my schedule today and it's awesome. I have Dance for first Arts Rotation!”

“Cool,” Mickey said, trying to sound excited for her friend. If she had stayed in Philly, they would have been walking to school together every day.

“Oh! And my mom took Rachel Solomon and me for froyo after school! They've got this awesome new flavor that tastes exactly like chocolate milk!”

Mickey missed Annabelle. And froyo. And chocolate milk. “So you and Rachel are now besties?” she asked, fingering the silver scissor charm around her neck. “I thought you hated her because she made fun of your braces last year?”

“Nah, she's okay. We share a locker and she's in my Spanish and math classes.”

Mickey nodded. “Sounds cool.”

“Well, I gotta run, Mick. I have tons of homework!” She hung up before Mickey could say good-bye.

Olive walked back into the apartment and placed two red cabbages on the kitchen table. “I had to hike all the way to Amsterdam to get organic ones,” she said, out of breath from climbing the stairs. Then she noticed Mickey's long face.

“What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing. My best friend just seems really busy.”

Olive handed her a pot to put the cabbage in. “You know what they say, ‘Out of sight, out of mind,'” her aunt reminded her. “People have to get on with their lives whether or not you're there. It was your decision to go to middle school in New York City.”

She knew that was true. She didn't expect her mom to stop working, or Annabelle to stop going to their favorite froyo place. But she also didn't expect to miss them so much.

“How was your first day?” Olive asked. “Everything you thought it would be?”

Mickey didn't feel like fibbing anymore. “It was hard. I couldn't find my classes, and the kids thought I was weird and kind of ignored me.” She waited for her aunt to say something, anything, to make her feel better.

Olive pursed her lips. “I'm not sure I'm the best person to give you advice, Mackenzie. I've never been a mother, and I don't have very many friends.”

Well, that was true…

“But I do know that most birds will eventually find a flock to fly with. Give it time.”