Secrets of the Sisterhood (The Cinderella Society, Episode 1) (15 page)

“Tummy, tummy, tummy,” Lorraine said. “If you remember to hold in the tummy, all the rest naturally falls into line.” Then she stepped away to give me a clear view of my disastrous new profile.

My posture was model perfect. So this was what it felt like to walk upright.

From there, we transitioned into walking. “You have a naturally wide stride,” Lorraine said, watching me critically but not unkindly. “An athlete’s walk. Am I right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Call me Lorraine, dear. That type of stride is appropriate for the field, but not for every day.”

Lorraine showed me how to adjust my stride to a glide, walking on a single line without dislocating my hips. I made several laps on the catwalk that way before she had me go back to walking normally. Magically, my new stride was a little shorter and a little narrower and looked much more feminine without being prissy. Très cool.

I worked on my turns, trying to spot things on the wall to keep my head up and shoulders back. “I never knew I looked down so much,” I said, doing my spotting-best pivot. I felt like Heidi Klum compared to the old me.

 
I gradually relaxed into my new posture, realizing it wasn’t that different from my posture on the field. I’d just never realized that looking up into the stands while cheering was the only thing keeping my chin up. Off the field? I was a tried and true ground looker.

“Many girls look at the ground when they walk, particularly when they turn. Unless you’re walking down stairs you’re unaccustomed to, a simple glance down with your eyes—head up, of course—is all that’s required.” She moved to a desk along the wall. “You wear a size six shoe, Jessica?”

“Yes, ma’am. Lorraine.” I sensed the imminent danger as soon as she reached for the box. “Do I really need those?”

Lorraine removed a pair of stiletto heels. Not skyscraper height, but they might as well have been. “Wearing heels changes your center of gravity,” she explained. “If you want to look confident in any fashion, you need to learn to walk as gracefully in heels as you do in your sandals or sneakers.”

SJ stored my sandals under her seat next to the runway. I sat down to slip on the heels and wobbled my way to standing. I felt like a baby giraffe on new legs. I’d rarely worn major high heels before, so I was public klutz number one.

I had to admit they made my calves look awesome, though.

It took me seven laps to make it down the runway and back without tripping.
Seven.
I gave myself extra credit for not doing a complete face plant, but I wasn’t exactly setting the world on fire with my walking prowess.

Lorraine worked with me to center my hips and change my stride to accommodate the heel height. By the end, my feet ached, and my right ankle throbbed where I’d twisted it, but I looked like a model ready for her first assignment. At least posture-wise.

Still, whenever I started analyzing my inadequacies instead of being in the moment—always a battle—I felt like a big-time fraud. Even Lorraine could tell when those fraud thoughts crept in, because my shoulders started to roll forward and my posture drooped. Like my body was sending out
I’m not really all that
signals.

“Don’t be self-conscious, Jessica. You are a smart, beautiful girl who deserves to be noticed. Walk like you know that.”

Did I mention self-conscious habits are hard to break?

But with more directions from Lorraine, playful hoots from Sarah Jane to lighten the mood, and some background music with a great beat, I started to feel the power of being noticed. It sank into me, and before I knew it, I owned the imaginary runway. I belonged there.

This must be what it feels like to be Sarah Jane, I thought. What Fake Blondie must feel like around Ryan when she knows all eyes are on her.
 

It was a heady, potent, scary-as-heck mix.

Lorraine gifted me the shoes (love that woman!) and sent us on our way to my next appointment. I suspected the heels might’ve been a reward for not having to call an ambulance during my walking fails.

Despite my rocky beginning, I’d passed my first test. Bring on number two!

Chapter Twenty-Four

Stephan the designer had an airy studio on the top floor of the academy. Large windows overlooked the city and flooded the space with natural light. The clothes and fabrics were tucked behind screens—to protect them from sun damage, he explained—and mannequins lined another wall. Stephan greeted us like long-lost friends and immediately put me at ease.

“The key to fashion is confidence and individuality,” he told me, helping me up onto the round platform in front of a tall tri-fold mirror. “Trends are worthless if the clothes don’t flatter your unique figure. If it doesn’t make you feel gorgeous, don’t waste your money.”

Stephan did a quick color analysis, deciding I looked best in clear, crisp colors with warm undertones. “Not bold colors,” he clarified, “but not subtle or muted. You need the bright, fresh tones to bring out the warmth of your eyes and hair.”

He draped me with different fabrics to show how they perked up or dulled my coloring and then helped me combine colors to create a palette that didn’t clash. Stephan swore I didn’t need to take notes, but I wasn’t an honor student because I relied on my memory. Sarah Jane hunted down a notebook and pen, and I jotted down all of his recommendations.

“I’ll never keep this all straight,” I moaned, writing like crazy while Stephan disappeared behind a room-dividing curtain. Fashion mags were great, but you’d have to read ten years’ worth to get this kind of detailed information. Even then, it wouldn’t be customized for you.

 
“Once you figure out what works for you, shopping’s a no-brainer,” Sarah Jane told me. “You’ll know right away which new styles will work and which styles are a fashion disaster waiting to happen. Like, I know I can’t wear anything with single spaghetti straps, because my shoulders are so wide. It saves me a lot of time sifting through the racks.”

I looked at her cami with its triple set of thin straps fanning out on top of her shoulders. I’d never noticed that detail before, but I guess that was the point.

“Excellent example, Sarah Jane,” Stephan said as he wheeled out a rolling rack of clothes. “Camis are in right now, so you found ones that worked for you instead of wearing something that worked against your figure.” He tapped her affectionately on the nose like a prized fashion pupil.

Stephan turned his attention back to me. “Time to dress the princess. Tell me your signature style, Jess.”

I dutifully handed over my style description from the
Style Quiz
:

Sporty and classic are words to live by. Whether it’s an athletic cut or simple pieces with clean lines, you’ll always look your best in classic fashions. Aim for outfits that flatter your figure but leave plenty to the imagination and fabrics that move with you to give you the freedom to be yourself. Comfort and confidence are key.

Stephan looked over my sheet. I smiled patiently, waiting for a tap on my nose to let me know I’d earned brownie points for being prepared.

“That’s nice,” Stephan said, looking up from the paper. “But it’s just what a computer says about your style. What do you have to say about it?”

Well, poop.

I thought about my
Signature Style Portfolio
, the words and images I’d played with for so many hours. Yes to feminine and sporty; no to dramatic and bold. Definite no to body-conscious (I felt ill just thinking about Lexy’s sex-kitten look). Clean-cut style, a little bit flirty without being too girly. And I liked the “fabrics that move with you” part of my style description.

So that left me with . . . “Fun, feminine, and sporty?”

Stephan chuckled. “Are you asking my permission or are you undecided?”

“Fun, feminine, and sporty,” I repeated with conviction. It was as close as I got to feeling zen when I thought about my new look. That had to be a starting point.

Stephan pulled clothes off hangers, and I tried them on behind the curtain.

“Wow,” SJ breathed when I came out with the first outfit. “That fitted blouse looks amazing on you!”

“The hemline just above your knees makes your legs look long and slender. It’s the perfect combination for your figure and not too much skin. You came out with your head held high; that’s a dead giveaway you’ve found the right outfit.” Stephan tweaked the collar a bit. “Girls think showing more skin is sexy, but it just looks like they’re trying too hard. Confidence is sexy. That may not matter to you now, but someday it’ll make all the difference in the world.”

Confidence, confidence. Wherefore art thou, confidence?

I tried on the rest of the collection Stephan had put together, totally loving how the clothes looked. Basking in the glow of how they made me feel strong and ready to take on the world.

Never underestimate the power of the right skirt and a couple of strategic tucks.

No gifting this time—so sad—but Stephan did treat me to a CD of digital pictures with me in the various outfits. “Remember how you felt in these when you go shopping, and don’t give in to temptation just because something’s in for a season. It’s only in for you if it fits your signature style.”

“Any final words of advice from the fashion king?” I asked as we helped Stephan rehang the clothes.

“Find what works for you and work it for all it’s worth.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

We met Kyra and Mel for a late lunch at Kyra’s house and discussed shopping strategy. I was bursting with excitement to put Stephan’s fashion suggestions to the test. My latest Mosaic paycheck was burning a hole in my wallet.

“I only need a few things,” Kyra said as she double-checked her list. “A new outfit for my party, a teal shirt to go with my tropical skirt, and a new pair of light-brown sandals.”

Mel needed a few pieces too, and Sarah Jane only wanted a silver ankle bracelet to wear with her metallic flip-flops at the lake.

“What about you, J?” Sarah Jane asked, scooping salsa with a tortilla chip.

I glanced down at the list I’d created on the way back from the academy. “I want a few outfits like what Stephan had at the studio.” Sarah Jane had downloaded my photos to her phone so we’d have them for shopping. “And some accessories to finish the outfits I already have.”

“You should definitely wear one of the new outfits to my party,” Kyra said. “You can launch the new Jess Parker. Especially since
somebody will be looking for you
,” she added in a singsong voice.

I felt the heat wave coming on, my cheeks prickling as the blush arrived full swing. “Word travels fast.”

“Ryan’s a catch,
chica
. If he went out of his way to make sure you were coming to my birthday party, he’s definitely into you.”

My butterflies perked up their little heads. I doused them with a swallow of water.

“Kee’s right,” SJ said. “You should unveil Jess 2.0 at the party. It’ll be like your debut.”

Parties and launches and Ryan, oh my.

With shopping strategies set, we hit the mall like Sisters on a mission. Not only had we come prepared with lists, but Mel had come armed with fabric swatches. The pageant circuit had taught her well.

In less than an hour, they’d managed to cross off nearly everything on their lists. I found a few accessories but mostly stood in awe of their shopping proficiency.
 

With everyone else in good shape, they turned their attention to helping me find something for the party.

I never saw it coming.

SJ marched us down to the biggest department store at the mall and had me describe my
fun-feminine-sporty
signature style. Even a few hours later, I was still geeked about how natural my new brand felt for me.

“Who’s up for a little contest?” Sarah Jane asked as we wandered into the Juniors section.

“I know that look,” Kyra said. “You want a PSC.” She turned to Mel and me. “A Power Shop Challenge. It’s great for keeping your skills sharp. We each have to pick out three outfits on a certain budget in twenty minutes.”

Mel looked game, but no way could I hold my own with this crowd. “I’ll sit this one out and watch the pros at work,” I said.

Sarah Jane tucked her arm in mine. “That works out perfectly, since you’re our model. You tell us what kind of outfits you’re looking for, your size, and the colors you’re after, and we do the rest. Think of us as your personal shoppers.”

The only catch was that I had to try on everything so we could give it a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. Which, of course, made SJ remind everyone in her most serious, don’t-mess-with-the-big-Sister voice that my personal thumbs were the only ones that mattered.

Like I’d really trust my judgment over theirs.
Snort.
 

I gave them my sizes, what I was looking for (two casual outfits and one dressy thing), Stephan’s color advice, and a very limited budget to keep my debit card from conking out on me. Sarah Jane tossed in her two cents about what she’d liked on me that morning, we synced our watches (you think I’m kidding, but no), and they all scrammed to different racks.

I met them at the dressing room exactly twenty minutes later. With only seconds to spare, the shopping queens handed over their outfits and stood guard outside my dressing room door. Nine outfits of varying cut and color hung on pegs around the small room. Most of them would’ve made Stephan proud, but a few were flashy enough to make my palms sweat. And that was inside a locked dressing room.