Runway Ready (3 page)

A week later, it was time for the big reveal: Cordy's fifth birthday outfit as designed by FAB's students. Mars was eager to present hers, and her hand shot up as soon as Mr. Kaye asked for volunteers.

“Ooh! Ooh! Me! Me!” she said, wheeling her dress form right in front of Cordy. The little girl was licking a blue raspberry lollipop and seemed bored.

“So I call this ‘High Five,'” Mars explained to Cordy. “See? The print is made out of the number five in all sizes and colors. I used it for the miniskirt and the matching hoodie. How cool is that?”

Cordy yawned. “I hate it,” she said, taking her lolly and tossing it at the mannequin. It stuck to the hem of the skirt, and Mars gasped in horror.

“I know my ABCs and my numbers,” Cordy continued. “I don't watch
Sesame Street
anymore!”

Mr. Kaye nodded. “She does have a point, Mars. Perhaps the dress is too juvenile?”

“She's five,” Mars groaned. “Not twenty-five.”

“It's icky,” Cordy insisted. “Blech! Take it away.”

Mars wheeled her design back to her desk and sunk down in her seat.

“That kid is a nightmare,” she said to Mickey. “Thanks to her, I'm probably going to fail this assignment.”

“Gabriel,” Mr. Kaye summoned. “You're next.”

“Hey, Cordelia,” Gabriel said, uncovering his design with a flourish. “I think you're really going to like what I made for you.”

“Doubt it,” Cordy replied. “I hate boys.”

“But you love balloons, right?” he said.

Cordy's ears perked up. “Yeah.”

He spun the form around to reveal a voluminous party dress trimmed in white lace. It had a huge cream-colored balloon-like skirt made from layers of chiffon. “Ta-da!”

Cordy wrinkled her nose. “Where's the balloon?”

Gabriel fluffed the skirt out even more. “Right here! See, it's big and billowy like a balloon.”

“I don't like it.” Cordy sniffed. “It looks like a marshmallow. And marshmallows make me pukey.”

“Oh, dear,” Mr. Kaye said. “We don't want our client nauseated. I'm afraid it's not good news for you, Gabriel.”

South's design was next. “I think of it as ‘Street Ballerina,'” she said, explaining the tutu she'd made, trimmed with silver grommets. “And since you said you love rainbows, I did the ballerina tank top in a silver hologram fabric that reflects the light.” She tilted the mannequin so it cast shimmering rainbow prisms on the wall.

Cordy stood up and surveyed the dress. “It's kinda nice,” she said. “But what if it's raining? Or it's my bedtime? Where do the rainbows go?”

“I guess you have to carry a flashlight with you,” South replied, annoyed. “Give me a break. This outfit is awesome. I'd wear it.”

“Well, you are not the client,” Mr. Kaye reminded her. “Cordy, thumbs up or thumbs down?”

Instead, Cordy curled up in a ball in Mr. Kaye's desk chair and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

“Moving on then,” their teacher said. “Mickey, let's see what you've come up with.”

Mickey took a deep breath and rolled her dress form toward the front of the room. She smiled at Cordy, who looked like she needed a nap.

“So I had a long talk with the Easter Bunny,” Mickey began.

Cordy's eyes flew open. “You did?”

“I did. Peter Cottontail and I go way back. He even helped me make this white rabbit fur wrap for you—faux bunny fur, of course.” She removed the cropped jacket from the mannequin and draped it around Cordy's shoulders.

“Ooh,” Cordy cooed. “Soft.”

“You'll notice that the dress that goes with it is very
fancy
,” Mickey said, choosing her words carefully. She had to convince Cordy that she had given her exactly what she asked for. “The little puff sleeves are inspired by party balloons, and there are pearl buttons down the back and a big pink bow at the waist. The handkerchief skirt is made out of rainbow-colored silk dupioni, and you'll notice that if you twirl in it…” She spun the dress form around in a circle. “It's very ballerina.”

Cordy was taking it all in, admiring all the details that Mickey had designed just for her. “You forgot the spaghetti,” she said suddenly. “I said I wanted spaghetti.”

From her backpack, Mickey pulled out a gold-fringed cross-body bag. The fringe looked like long strands of spaghetti. “You'll see that I even gave you a meatball,” she said, pointing to the large red wooden bead she'd fastened onto the clasp. “I didn't forget your spaghetti.”

“Gimme!” Cordy said, snatching the purse out of Mickey's hands.

“Well, that's a positive review,” Mr. Kaye said. “Good job, Mickey. Your client is pleased. South, you were Cordy's other top choice, so you both will be presenting your designs to Victoria Vanderweil.”

“Yes!” South fist-pumped the air. “She shoots… She scores!”

Mickey tried to contain her excitement—at least until she could find JC at lunch in the cafeteria and share the news with him.

“Thank you, Mr. Kaye,” she said modestly. “And thank you too, Cordy.”

Cordy was too busy stuffing her new purse with pens, pencils, and erasers from inside Mr. Kaye's desk drawer.

“Do you think I could put real spaghetti in here?” she asked him.

“Why don't you go to the cafeteria and find out?” he suggested, giving the youngster a gentle push toward Mickey. “I don't have any more pencils left—or patience for that matter. Besides, I'm sure your two favorite designers won't mind taking you to lunch.”

South's draw dropped. “Me? I don't babysit.”

“
I'm not a baby!
” Cordy exploded. “And nobody sits on me.”

“Well, could we just be lunch buddies then?” Mickey asked her. She tried to take Cordy's hand, but the child was slippery.

“I want mac and cheese!” Cordy yelled as she bolted out of the classroom. “And chocolate milk! And chicken dinos!”

Before Mickey could say another word, Cordy took off in a sprint down the hallway.

“Good heavens!” Mr. Kaye shouted. “Stop her! Victoria Vanderweil's grandchild is on the loose and I'm responsible for her. Go find her…
now
!”

Mickey raced after Cordy, but it was too late. The fourth-period bell had rung, and the hallway was now flooded with students. Finding a little girl in this crowd was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

“Have you seen a kid?” she asked as she collided with Jade and her brother, Jake, at their lockers.

“A kid? As opposed to what—an alien life-form?” Jake replied, snickering. “There are kids everywhere.”

“No, I mean a little kid. Five years old, curly blond hair, bad attitude.”

“Maybe you should file a missing person's report,” Jade suggested, smiling sweetly. “Need a hand?”

Mickey had learned by now that anytime Jade was nice, she was either faking it—or had an ulterior motive.

“No, thanks. I'll find her myself!”

“What's that all about?” Jade asked her brother as Mickey dashed down the three flights of stairs to the cafeteria, hoping that Cordy had followed her nose.

“Gabriel texted me that Mr. Kaye is freaking out. He put Mickey in charge of Victoria Vanderweil's grandkid,” Jake replied.

“Then she must be in
big
trouble,” Jade said, checking her lipstick in her locker mirror before shutting the door. “That's the best news I've heard all day.”

• • •

JC spotted Mickey running in circles in the cafeteria and waved from their regular table.

“Hey, can't have lunch. Gotta find a missing kid,” she said breathlessly.

JC pointed under the table. “You mean
this
missing kid?” There was Cordy, sitting cross-legged on the floor and feeding JC's dog, Madonna, scraps of her grilled cheese sandwich. The tiny dog was dressed in a purple cashmere sweater with a monogram
M
on it. JC made sure she was always dressed to puppy perfection.

“How did you know?” Mickey gasped.

“The spaghetti-and-meatball purse kind of gave her away,” JC said, winking. “I thought maybe someone might be missing her. I didn't think it would be you.”

“I know.” Mickey sat down at the table and wiped her brow with a paper napkin. “Mr. Kaye kind of put me on babysitting duty.”

“I'm not a baby!” shouted a voice under the table.

“Right! Not a baby!” Mickey quickly retracted her statement for fear that Cordy would bolt again. “I'm on
lunch buddy
duty.”

“That's better,” Cordy said, giving Madonna a belly rub on the cafeteria floor.

JC peered under the table. “Remember what I told you. Doggie is a secret. She's not allowed to come to school.”

“I love Doggie!” Cordy said, scooping the tiny dog into her arms. “Shhh!”

JC offered Mickey half of his sandwich. “Did Mr. Kaye like your design?”

“More importantly, the little princess did.” She motioned under the table. “I get to present my look to Victoria Vanderweil at her design studio.”

“Awesomeness!” JC cheered, dipping a fry in a puddle of ketchup. “You're the best designer at FAB, in my humble opinion. I told you the last assignment was just a temporary setback.”

“Aww, thanks.” Mickey blushed. “But if I don't get Cordy back to Mr. Kaye's studio, it will be a permanent setback. You should have seen Mr. Kaye. He was red in the face, and I think steam was coming out of his ears.”

“Not to worry,” JC assured her. “Everyone is safe and sound. You're welcome.”

But before she could thank him, Mickey caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. It was Cordy. She had taken Madonna in JC's purple quilted tote bag and was making a run for it.

“JC! Look!” Mickey cried. “She's getting away!”

JC stared in horror. “And she dognapped my Madonna!”

He leaped to his feet and stood on top of the table to get a bird's-eye view of Cordy's escape route. There were students everywhere in line with their lunch trays, and it was almost impossible to follow the blond curls fleeing for the exit.

“Stop, thief! Come back!” JC yelled.

Mickey was already on Cordy's heels. “Wait, Cordy! You didn't have your ice-cream sundae for dessert,” she said, trying to reason with the little girl. “Lots of whipped cream and sprinkles!”

“I hate whipped cream!” Cordy fired back, and she pushed a garbage can in Mickey's way. “More than I hate marshmallows!”

Mickey ran straight into it, and the can spilled over, showering her in discarded meat loaf and mashed potatoes.

“Hah, hah! You made a messy!” Cordy chuckled, making a beeline for the cafeteria exit.

“Wait! Stop her!” JC yelled, pushing his way through the cafeteria lines and knocking over trays of food in his wake. “I got her! I got her!”

He dove for her, but Cordy was too fast. She sidestepped him just in the nick of time, and JC landed with a hard
splat
on the tile floor. Cordy disappeared—with Madonna—out of the cafeteria.

Mickey helped him to his feet. “I told you she was slippery.”

“Slippery? She's worse than a snake wearing sunscreen! Where do you think she would go?”

Mickey tried to put herself in a five-year-old's shoes. But then again, Cordy was no average five-year-old. “Somewhere where she could play with Madonna…or dress her up.”

“You thinking what I'm thinking?” JC suddenly caught on.

“The runway!” they both shouted in unison.

Mickey and JC raced to the bottom floor of FAB where the auditorium housed a gigantic runway stage used for the Runway Showdown. The doors were locked.

“That's strange,” JC reflected. “The auditorium is always open.”

“Unless someone locked it from the inside,” Mickey said. “Cordy is so smart. She knew we'd figure out where she was going and was trying to slow us down.”

“We'll have to pick the lock,” JC said, rummaging in his pockets. “I don't suppose you have a pick on you?”

Mickey dug in her bag and pulled out one of the safety pins that had fallen off her No Sew assignment fiasco. “Will this do?”

“Perfect!” JC said, squatting down on his knees and jabbing the lock with the sharp end of the pin. “When I was six, I got locked in the bathroom of my day camp and had to use a paper clip to get out.”

Mickey nodded. “So you're a pro at breaking and entering?”

With a few clicks, the lock sprung open. JC smiled. “You could say that.”

They pushed open the door. The lights were off, but they could hear noises coming from backstage.

“Tiptoe,” Mickey warned him. “We don't want to scare her.”

“Scare her? You think anything scares that tiny terror? She scares me!”

“You look so pretty in pink, don't you think?” They heard a little voice behind the curtains.

Madonna responded with a few yelps.

“If she hurts my dog…” JC said through gritted teeth.

“What's wrong, Doggie? You don't like my dress?”

Mickey gently pulled back the curtain. There, wrapped in a long piece of pink chiffon, was Madonna. Cordy was doing her best to coax her down the runway, but the dog's legs were tangled in the fabric.

“She doesn't wanna model,” the little girl said with a huff. “Bad doggie.”

“No, she's not a bad doggie. She just has a strong sense of personal style—like someone else I know,” Mickey said. She gently picked Madonna up and unraveled her from the outfit Cordy had “designed.” She handed the dog back to JC, who heaved a huge sigh of relief.

“What's wrong with my dress?” Cordy asked, tears welling in her eyes. “I found it there.” She pointed to a huge bin of discarded scrap material. “Why does Doggie hate it?”

JC saw how upset she was and forgot to be angry. “You did a beautiful gown for Madonna,” he said, sitting down next to her. “But she prefers minidresses over maxis. More room for her to move around.” He took the pink fabric and folded it in half, draping it over Madonna's back and ears. “See?”

Madonna scampered around in her new look approvingly.

“Oh, she's so pretty!” Cordy clapped her hands together.

“Maybe you could come over to JC's house for a playdate and design more clothes for her,” Mickey suggested.

JC shot her a look. The last thing he wanted was Cordy invading his home design studio. “Yeah, or maybe not…”

“Tomorrow?” Cordy begged. “Can I come over tomorrow?”

JC shook his head. “Ya know, I have a lot of homework and a really hard science test to study for…”

“Tomorrow would be perfect,” Mickey said, giving him a little kick.

“Ouch! Says who?”

“Cordy, do you think you could introduce JC to your grandma? Show him what you
both
are making for Madonna?”

“Oh yes,” Cordy replied. “Granny Vicky has a doggie too. Her name is Princess Puffynose.”

JC rolled his eyes. “Granny Vicky?” he whispered to Mickey. “Princess Puffynose? Seriously?”

“I think you should design some new dog clothes that would wow Victoria Vanderweil,” Mickey insisted. “How cool would it be to have your canine couture on her personal pup?”

JC thought for a moment. “Mickey, did I ever tell you you're a genius?”

Mickey smiled. “So it's a date, Cordy. You, me, JC, and Madonna—and Granny Vicky. I'm sure Mr. Kaye would be happy to set it up.”

JC watched as Cordy, now on all fours, chased Madonna down the runway. “I can hardly wait,” he said.

• • •

When a black stretch limo pulled up in front of JC's apartment building after school the next day, he and Mickey had no doubt who was inside.

“Your playdate has arrived,” Mickey teased him, peering out the window. A chauffeur escorted Cordy out of the car, into the elevator, and to the front door—which Cordy pounded on. “I'm here! I'm here! Open up!”

As JC unlocked the front door, she pushed past him and headed straight into his bedroom and design space. “Where's my puppy?”

“
Your
puppy?” JC exclaimed. “Do you want to rephrase that?”

“She's a five-year-old.” Mickey tried to calm him.

“With a talent for dognapping,” JC reminded her. “I'm not taking my eyes off her for a second.” He locked the front door to the apartment and bolted it.

“So,” Mickey said, joining Cordy, “what kind of outfit should you and JC make for Princess Puffynose?”

“She likes polka dots,” Cordy replied. “Blue and yellow polka dots.”

“Uh-huh,” JC said, taking notes in his sketchbook. “What else?”

“Ruffles. Oh, and shiny shoes.”

“We are talking about a dog, right?” JC asked her. “Not a circus clown?”

Cordy stamped her foot. “Polka dots.”

“KK, not a problem,” JC said. “Polka dots it is.”

After carefully selecting a cream-colored cashmere fabric from his box of scraps, JC cut out a pattern, stitched it together, and held it up for Cordy to see.

“Where are the polka dots?” she asked stubbornly.

“Relax, I haven't gotten to that part yet.”

He handed the little girl a box of sequins. “Pick out the dots you like, and I'll sew them on.”

“Ooh, this one!” Cordy said, digging in and selecting a large sapphire-blue one. “And this one.” She picked out a sparkling canary yellow.

“Nice,” JC said, attaching them to the dog sweater. “This kid's got an eye for color.”

Cordy handed JC sequin after sequin until the sweater was covered in shimmering “dots.”

“It's beautiful,” Mickey said, admiring JC's handiwork. “Never mind Princess Puffynose.
I'd
wear that sweater.”

JC slipped it over Madonna's tiny head. “Madonna, model please,” he said. Madonna obeyed, prancing around the room.

Cordy giggled with delight. “Let's go show Granny Vicky!” she said, tugging on Mickey's arm.

“Now? You want to go show her now?” Mickey gasped. “But we're not ready.”

“Now!” Cordy commanded and marched out of the room with Madonna scampering after her. She stood at the front door. “Open up,” she said, pointing to the lock.

“Let me get my coat and Madonna's leash,” JC said, excited. “Granny Vicky, here we come.”