Bead-Dazzled (12 page)

“So he uses a fork when he eats?”

“Give it a rest.” Emma sighed. Most of the time, she found Charlie’s condescending attitude amusing. Not today. He didn’t have many friends at Downtown Day. He liked to think he was more sophisticated and above them all, but Emma saw that he didn’t try. She was trying. Or at least she was trying with Jackson. “I like him, so you should, too.”

“That’s how it works? Like a math problem. If A equals B and A equals C, then B equals C?”

“Exactly! Come to the movies. Be friends with Jackson.” She noted Charlie’s grimace. “At least try. For me.”

“Em, I’m here on a Saturday soaking fabric in beets—for you. Don’t push your luck.” Charlie grabbed the pile of folded fabric. “You get the pots. Time for a bath.”

Holly appeared just as they’d filled the tub with the shocking-red beet juice. Emma had strained the chunks from the liquid before transferring it—she didn’t want globs of the vegetable attached to her cloth.

“What’s with the big duffle?” Emma asked. “You sleeping over?”

“Or staying for the month?” Charlie added, eying her oversized paisley-print bag.

“Options,” Holly explained. “I need the right outfit for the movies. I pretty much brought my whole closet.”

“And you really think Caveboy Clayton cares?” Charlie sneered.

“Doubtful, but Ivana and Lexie sure do.”

“Ivana and Lexie? Why would they see what you’re wearing?” Emma asked.

“They’re kind of coming with us.”

“Are you kidding me? You invited them?”

“No! Not me,” Holly promised. “Clayton did. Or somehow when Ivana found out about it she made Clayton include them.” Holly wrapped a tendril of hair around her right index finger. “I think Lexie’s after Jackson again. Ivana is helping her, because she doesn’t like you.”

“So
six
of us are going to the movies tonight?” Emma’s shoulders stiffened. With just Holly along, she could relax and be herself. Ivana and Lexie changed everything.

“No other Ivana-Bees?” Charlie asked. “Don’t they all move in a pack?”

“No, and it’s not funny,” Holly warned. “Stop smiling like that.”

“I’m not going.” Emma announced. “I’m not spending the night watching Lexie hang all over Jackson and Ivana give me her evil glare.”

“But Jackson didn’t ask Lexie. He asked
you
,” Holly said. “You have to go. For me.”

“You can still go,” Emma said. “I need to finish this fabric.”

“I can’t go without you. Really, I need you there. Please, Em. Just ignore the Ivana-Bees. Please.”

Emma saw the uncertainty flicker in Holly’s eyes. Everyone thought that because Holly was so pretty, she was also confident. Emma knew different. Holly had never gone out with a boy before. She really liked Clayton. How could Emma ruin this chance for her?

“Okay, I’m in, but I’m not ignoring them.”

Holly squealed and wrapped her arms around Emma. “You are the best friend ever. We’re going to have the best time.”

Charlie rolled his eyes.

Emma rolled hers back in agreement. He may not understand Jackson, she thought, but they both understood Ivana and Lexie far too well.

Ivana was trouble. With Lexie by her side, they were double-trouble.

A LOOK TO DYE FOR

I
t took hours to make the fabric gradually flow from ballet-slipper pink to blood red. She slowly inched the fabric out of the tub to create a subtle ombre effect with the coffee grinds. The result reminded Emma of the swirls of espresso and foamy milk combining in a cappuccino. Hours to achieve different shades of green by leaving swaths of fabric in the kale dye for different amounts of time.

All she had left was the turmeric dye. She poked the fabric at the bottom of the large plastic bin. Her wooden spoon was stained the color of a summer dandelion. The spice was the most potent of all the dyes. The yellow would add that magical pop to her collection. Perfect for a flash of camisole under a long jacket or a swingy trapeze dress. She imagined the beads—emerald green Swarovski crystals, tiny carnelian drops, or moon-glow Lucite beads like the ones on a necklace her grandmother used to wear—that would jump off of that rich gold backdrop.

“Almost done?” Holly called from Emma’s bedroom. She’d abandoned Emma to her vats of color long ago. She’d never been one for art projects. Neither had Charlie.

He sat cross-legged on the closed toilet seat and DJed the event with his laptop. “Music to Dye By,” he named the playlist. Mostly folksy ballads with a twist of funk.

Holly had busied herself, trying on different outfits, mixing and matching from her traveling closet, and strutting in for Emma’s approval. Emma hadn’t liked the stretchy sailor striped sweater or the micro mini skirt with tights or the cropped raglan-sleeved top—although Holly looked great in pretty much anything. Those clothes just weren’t Holly. Emma figured she must have been peer pressured into getting those pieces on a shopping trip with the Ivana-Bees.

So they finally settled on Holly’s favorite “boyfriend” style jeans tucked into short, fur-lined booties for the bottom. And on top, a soft subtly patterned plaid flannel under a three-quarter-length sleeve whispery knit in a shade of periwinkle that made Holly’s eyes look impossibly blue. Emma knew Holly would be more relaxed if she was comfortable. And really, how could Clayton not fall for her?

“Now you need to get dressed.” Holly stood in the doorway and wrinkled her nose. “It reeks like a dumpster outside a vegan restaurant.”

Emma could no longer smell anything. She hadn’t left the narrow bathroom in forever. Emma’s parents and brother had left for the night nearly an hour ago. Holly had arranged for Clayton and Jackson to meet at Emma’s apartment.

The boys would be here soon. And she really did want to look great for Jackson.

She would have to rely on her default jeans as well—stretchy with a little flair, with one embroidered hip pocket. And a few layered long-sleeved Ts. Slightly different lengths of violet, gray, and a deep amethyst—tucked in just the tiniest bit to show off her styling pocket, she decided.

“I just need to finish. Only a little more,” Emma promised Holly. She lifted the dazzling yellow fabric from the bin. She rinsed it under cool water from the tub then clipped it to dry on one of the many clotheslines zig-zagged in a spider web across the bathroom.

“You should call it quits and make some room in here to take a shower,” Holly advised.

Emma barely heard her. Her eyes danced along the yards and yards of colorful fabric draped around the room. Magically, the blank fabric had been granted personalities. Each piece whispered to her. She was starting to understand how they’d work together.

“Em, are you listening to me?” Holly demanded.

“Yeah, sure.” She wasn’t listening. She was shuffling through ideas. Colors paired with silhouettes. She needed a bridge between the beet-red and the coffee-beige. The color contrast was too big a jump. Something rust or burnt sienna….

“Charlie, can you get through to her? She’s in one of her fashion dream-states,” Holly complained.

“There’s no coming back from it. The girl’s gone.”

“Well, get her back,” Holly tapped the toe of her buff leather boot impatiently. “Jackson’s going to be here soon.
Jackson
. Did you hear that, Em? Jackson!”

“I heard,” Emma said. “I’ll be ready. No worries.” She raced to the kitchen and checked the red onion skins that she’d boiled earlier. They were ready to go. She had one big sheet of fabric left. One more and she’d be done. The fabrics she dyed first were starting to dry, and she was happy to see that the vegetable dyes took to the fabric unevenly. But in a very cool, unique way. A uniquely uneven way in which you couldn’t even notice the water stains.

She was giddy—so close! Her fingers itched to hold the finished material, to drape it, to guide it under the needle of her sewing machine.

I need to prep the fabric, she realized. Holly called her name again. She blocked her out and reached for the bottle of white vinegar. Empty. No back-up bottles in the pantry. Without vinegar, she wouldn’t be able to fix the dye to the fabric.

She grabbed her wallet out of her school bag. She had ten dollars of her own plus the money her mom left her for the movies. Mr. Silviera’s bodega was at the corner. He’d have vinegar, she was sure. She slipped her feet, the socks splattered with bits of kale, into a pair of crocs by the door. The thick fabric of her sweatpants bunched oddly at the knees.

“I’m going out!” she called, snatching the keys that hung on a hook by the front coat closet.

Holly ran into the hall. “Oh, no, you are not!”

“I just have to get more vinegar.” Emma reached for the doorknob. “It’s quick.”

“Em, you’re getting all possessed.” Holly placed her hand over Emma’s. Emma still wore the stained, rubber dish gloves.

Emma felt her heart pound. She got like this when she created, when she sewed, when she had an idea and needed her much slower hands to catch up with her racing brain.

“If I could just finish the fabric—” If she didn’t, the movie would be a disaster. All she would think about would be the fabric. She hated that she had tunnel vision. She could never be like Charlie who could do his homework, watch music videos, and talk on the phone all at the same time. She was a one-thing-at-a-time girl.

Holly pulled the navy-patent wallet from her hand. “New plan. I’ll run to the store. I’m already dressed. I even did my make-up.” She blinked her thick eyelashes several times, showing off the double-coat of black mascara. “You get ready. Deal?”

“You don’t need to—”

“Yes, I do.” Holly cut her off. “I want
us
to go to the movies. Us means two. You and me.
Please
hurry.” Holly grabbed her gray puffer coat from the gingham front bench, took Emma’s keys, and swept out the door.

Emma kicked off her crocs. Back to the kitchen or the bathroom or to her closet? Too many choices.

“Did you forget about me?” Charlie called from the bathroom. “I feel like I’m vacationing in Mumbai. The Indian spices. The colorful saris on the lines. Wow, I could really go for chicken tikka. Want to bail on the movie and order in Indian food?”