Stitches and Stones (11 page)

“Mainly, the one who said, ‘That purple peace outfit looked like something a cat vomited up,' ” Libby said. “See, whoever wrote that couldn't have known your dress was purple unless they'd seen you wearing it. Or knew someone who'd seen you wearing it.”

“So that's why we figure it's probably someone—or more than one someone—who goes to Mapleton Prep,” Kate concluded.

“You guys are the best supersleuth friends a girl could have,” Zoey declared. “I can't believe you went to all this trouble.”

Her friends all looked at her like she'd grown another head out of her shoulder.

“Well, duh! Why wouldn't we?” Priti asked. “If
someone messes with you, they're messing with all of us.”

“Yeah,” Kate agreed. “We're a team, and we look after one another.”

“We're not going to let anyone make you give up Sew Zoey,” Libby said. “No way.”

The problems with her blog had really been getting Zoey down, but knowing she'd told her dad and she had the support of her amazing friends made her feel like stopping her blog would only let whomever was behind this win.

“You're right,” Zoey said. “I'm not going to stop doing Sew Zoey. No way. Why should I give them the satisfaction?”

“You shouldn't!” Libby agreed.

“I'm so glad we're a team,” Zoey said. “And I just had the most amazing idea. Since I couldn't have done any of this without you—without you Sew Zoey wouldn't even exist—I'm going to ask the
Très Chic
editor if you can be in the photo shoot at my house with me.”

“Seriously?” Priti asked. “That would be
so cool
.”

“Seriously. I'll e-mail her as soon as I get home,”
Zoey promised. “I want our team photo in the feature.”

“Wow! My aunt will be so excited that I'm going to be in a fashion magazine,” Libby said. Her aunt was a buyer at H. Cashin's department store.

“Um . . . that's really nice of you, Zo, but . . . what do I have to
wear
?” Kate asked. “I mean, this is
Très Chic
. Does that mean we have to be dressed up all glamorous and chichi?”

Zoey laughed. “No! Don't worry. It's a feature about young designers, not haute couture designers. Just be yourself. You could wear those cute red skinny jeans with the white collared shirt. How about that?”

“Okay,” Kate said, relieved.

“I almost forgot!” Zoey exclaimed. “You'll probably need your parents to sign release forms for the photos at my house. I'll e-mail them to you tonight.”

Libby nodded and Kate said “okay.”

“Wait. Both of them?” Priti asked.

“Both parents? Yeah, probably,” Zoey replied.

“Why?” Priti continued. “My mom has the flu and, um, can't be in the same room as my dad . . .
or any of us really. Sorry, Zo. . . .”

“I thought your dad had the flu?” Zoey asked without thinking.

Then she caught Kate's and Libby's faces, which looked like a combination of concern and confusion. Was Priti making up the whole thing?

“Right. I guess he gave it to my mom.” Priti lowered her eyes and bit her lip. “Whatever.”

“Are you okay?” Zoey asked, reaching out to rub Priti's shoulder.

Priti shrugged it off. Then her face softened. “Sorry, guys. You know what, it's no big deal. And I really don't want to talk about it, anyway.”

As Zoey walked home later, she thought about how sorry she was that Priti was going through something. Sure, it hadn't been the greatest week Zoey had ever had, but it was over now, and she had her friends and family to thank for getting through it. She was making progress on solving the Case of the Cruel Comments. She had a photo shoot to look forward to, and most of all, she had the best friends and family in the entire universe.

Cut It Out!

Did you see the spread devoted to laser-cut clothing in the latest issue of
Très Chic
? Recently, I've been feeling laser cut to the core. But things are looking up, and at least laser-cut things are totally in style right now. And I'm getting a little help from my friends. You
know that saying, “A problem shared is a problem halved”? Well, it's true. I've been trying to deal with the blog problems all by myself, and all it did was make me stressed out during Spirit Week. I finally talked to my dad, and he said he has an idea of how to deal with it and I should leave it to him. Not to be outdone, my friends were super-duper detectives and they've done some sleuthing of their own.

As Kate pointed out earlier, we're all on the same team. And my team is A-W-E-S-O-M-E! They cheer me on, cheer me up, and fight in my corner. And thanks to them, I've decided I'm not going to let a couple of meanies stop me from posting on Sew Zoey. No way! They're the ones who should cut it out. That's the inspiration for today's designs, get it? Cut it out? LOL.

Once I made the decision, I felt so happy about it, I practically danced down the street and back to my house, and as soon as I got home, I ran straight up here, because I had the idea for the cut-it-out–inspired dress and I wanted to get it down on paper. I even cut out a paper doll and designed some cute outfits for her. The fact that I was so fired up, full of creativity and new ideas, was how I knew it was the right decision.

This weekend I got to meet one of the other designers who is going to be featured in the
Très Chic
piece, and she is awesome! Go on over to Always Allie Accessories and check out her bags and things. She has a shop set up and everything. She's a junior in high school, and she's thinking about studying fashion design in college. The thought of being able to go to school and learn about designing and making clothes is like . . .
heaven
! Sign me up! Dad says I have to wait and see if I'm still interested in all of this when it comes time to go to college—but I can't imagine not wanting to sew, ever.

It's a busy week coming up. The
Très Chic
photo shoot is on Wednesday. The best part is they're letting my friends be a part of it too. I can't wait! Now I just have to figure out what to wear! Decisions, decisions.

When the assistant principal came to take Zoey out of class on Tuesday morning because Ms. Austen wanted to see her, Zoey got a sinking feeling. Was she going to be questioned about another horrible prank?

“Am I in trouble?” she asked Mrs. Diaz as they walked through the halls to the main office.

“Not that I'm aware of,” she said. “Should you be?”

“No!” Zoey assured her quickly. “I was just wondering why Ms. Austen wanted to see me.”

“She'll tell you soon enough,” Mrs. Diaz said, refusing to give anything away.

Zoey couldn't help noticing Ms. Austen's beautiful blouse and slim pencil skirt when she walked into her office, or the fact that she topped it—or rather bottomed it—with the most amazing t-strapped shoes. If she was getting in trouble for something, at least she could console herself with the fact that the person reprimanding had really great fashion sense.

“Have a seat, Zoey. I've just had a call from your father,” Ms. Austen said.

Uh-oh,
Zoey thought. Had her dad faked her out by playing it cool and now was totally overreacting?

“He told me about the problems you've been having with cyberbullying on your blog,” Ms. Austen continued.

“Well, yeah. I had a bunch of mean comments on there last week,” Zoey said. “It wasn't fun. But is that cyberbullying?”

“Whatever you call it, being bullied is
never
fun,” Ms. Austen said firmly. “That's why I take it very seriously. And apparently, Mapleton Prep computers are the source of these comments.”

“Wait. Really? How do you know?” Zoey asked.

“Your father said he asked the IT director at Eastern State to help him find the IP addresses of the computers of the people making the comments. He'd initially set your blog to record the IP addresses of all commenters, as a safety measure. He was able to recover the comments you deleted from the trash, and they all originated right here in this school.”

“All of them?” Zoey said. “I don't understand. There were so many different usernames. So many people who don't like me or my blog.”

“I know that's how it felt,” Ms. Austen said. “But it looks like all the comments came from school computers. Whoever did this probably created multiple usernames to make you
think
more people were writing the comments.”

“I feel so silly,” Zoey said.

“Zoey, listen to me. This is not your fault.” She leaned forward. “I promise you I will get to the bottom of this. We have a code of conduct for Internet use, which all students sign at the beginning of the year. Whoever wrote these comments violated the code when they posted from the school computers.”

“What will happen to them?” Zoey asked. “They won't get expelled or anything, will they?”

“Well, there certainly will be consequences,” Ms. Austen said, “because I want whoever did this to understand that this isn't acceptable behavior for anyone, and especially a Mapleton Prep student.”

Zoey had a feeling she knew who might be to blame, but could only tie one of the usernames back to someone who would have seen her at school and disliked her enough to do something like this. Who wrote the other comments? She'd asked the grown-ups for help, and she decided to let them deal with it. She felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders.

“And now for something much more fun,” Ms. Austen said, reaching into her drawer and
withdrawing a padded envelope. “It seems you've received another package from your fashion fairy godmother, the mysterious Fashionsista.”

As far as Zoey was concerned, that definitely
was
a great surprise. Packages from Fashionsista never failed to lift her spirits.

Zoey took the envelope, and Ms. Austen handed her an ivory-handled letter opener that she kept on her desk. When Zoey slit the envelope open, a small box slid out, and a card with an artistic black and white photograph of sticks and stones on the front.

Dear Zoey,

I know you've been having some unpleasantness on Sew Zoey recently. Here's a little gift to remind you that you have friends and supporters, and you most definitely should “stick” with it!

Your friend and fan,

Fashionsista

Zoey opened the box, and inside was a silver bracelet, shaped to look like a string of twigs, studded with round gemstones.

“How lovely!” Ms. Austen said. “I've seen that in the Museum of Modern Art catalog. Fashionsista must think a lot of you to send a gift like that.”

Zoey tried to slip the bracelet around her wrist.

“Here, let me help you with the clasp,” Ms. Austen said.

When it was fastened, Zoey held out her arm so they could both admire the bracelet. It was thin and delicate, but the way the twigs were linked together gave it an appearance of great strength.

“Your father told me you were thinking of giving up on Sew Zoey because of the nasty comments,” Ms. Austen said. “I hope you'll listen to your friend Fashionsista and stick with it.”

“Don't worry,” Zoey said, glancing down at the bracelet on her wrist. “I will.”