Stitches and Stones (12 page)

The next morning was Wednesday, and even though it was the day of the
Très Chic
shoot, Zoey's excitement was tinged with apprehension.

“Do you think having the reporter and the camera guy there, following me around at school, is going to set off Ivy?” Zoey asked Kate in a low voice as they rode on the bus to school.

“I don't know,” Kate answered. “But, Zo, you can't stop doing exciting and awesome things because you're worried it will make Ivy mad. That would just be wrong. You'd be letting her win.”

Zoey touched the stick bracelet lightly with her finger.

“You're right,” she said. “This
is
exciting and awesome, and I'm going to enjoy it, even if it does put Ivy's nose out of joint.”

And when she reported to Ms. Austen's office first thing, so she could meet with the photographer, the makeup artist, and the
Très Chic
writer who would be doing the interview, Zoey really
did
start to have fun.

“Oh my gosh,” she said, looking at the makeup artist's kit of rainbow-colored lipsticks, eyeshadows, blushes, and more. “Is this really happening? I feel like a princess!”

“It is happening! My name is Sophie, by the
way,” the woman replied. “Everyone loves the lipstick palettes, but today I'm just going to give you some very light, natural touch-ups.”

Zoey closed her eyes as the woman applied shimmery eyeshadow to her eyelids. The whole thing felt like a dream—a wonderful dream!

When it was okay to open her eyes again, she watched in the mirror as Sophie added a rosy blush, translucent powder, and then brushed and sprayed her hair to make sure there were “no pesky flyaways to distract the eye.”

Then Sophie grabbed a tube of lip gloss and started to unscrew the top when Zoey stopped her.

“Hold on!” Zoey said, reaching into her bag and grabbing the lip gloss Fashionsista, her fashion fairy godmother, had given to her for her
Fashion Showdown
appearance. “Can I use this instead? It's for good luck!”

“Sure!” said Sophie. She dabbed a little on Zoey's lips. “There. I think you're ready!”

They ventured out into the hallway to take some shots of Zoey taking books out of her locker. A few
students played it cool and walked by, as if seeing a fashion shoot in the school hallway was something they saw every day. But most of them stared curiously, and a few milled around, obviously hoping that they might be caught in the background of the shot and get their own small chance of fame.

Finally, Phil, the photographer, got frustrated.

“Listen, kids, if you want to be in the background, you can't just stand there, gawking at the camera,” he said. “Try to look natural, like you're passing through the hall on your way to your next class or getting something from your locker, just as you would if I wasn't here.”

From the corner of her eye, Zoey noticed Ivy, Shannon, and Bree in the group of gawkers, but she tried to not let them spoil her enjoyment of being a star for a day. She was having too much fun answering the reporter's questions and posing for the photographer.

After school, Zoey's dad picked her up—along with Libby, Priti, and Kate—and drove them back to the Webber house for the Team Zoey photo shoot. The
Très Chic
team met them there. Sophie worked on Libby, Priti, and Kate while Zoey showed Phil where she worked and blogged, so he could figure out the best setup for the shoot. He even asked Zoey to bring her sewing machine up to her room instead of leaving it on the dining table, since her room was a more unique setting. When they came back downstairs, Zoey saw that even Marcus and her dad were getting some light powder and blush, in case they were in the pictures.

“Don't tell any of the guys on the football team,” Mr. Webber said. “I'll never hear the end of it.”

“It's nothing to be afraid of,” Sophie said. “Makeup is just a tool.”

“Yeah, Dad. It's no big deal,” Zoey said. “Everyone on TV wears powder. Even sportscasters.”

Her dad smiled. “I stand corrected,” he said.

“You mean you
sit
corrected,” Marcus pointed out.

Zoey bowed her head. She loved her family, but they could be
so
embarrassing. Did they have to show the
Très Chic
people what kind of corny jokes they made in the Webber household? Then she
remembered she was often the corniest, cheesiest of them all.

“Why don't we go upstairs, and you can tell me how your friends inspired you to start Sew Zoey?” the reporter said. “Our editor, Izzy, told us it was a great story.”

“And Zoey can introduce you to Marie Antoinette!” Libby said.

“Marie Antoinette?” the writer asked.

“She's my dress form. I called her that because she . . . um . . . doesn't have a head,” Zoey said, worrying that the reporter might think she was kind of ghoulish.

But the entire
Très Chic
team burst out laughing.

“Marie Antoinette!” Phil exclaimed. “I love it! We definitely have to get her in some of the pictures. But before we begin, I'm going to need your release forms.”

They already had Zoey's form. Libby and Kate handed theirs over quickly.

Priti studied her release form, but didn't pass it to Phil. Zoey thought she saw Priti shake her head slightly.

“What's the matter?” asked Phil. “Did you forget to get it signed?”

“No,” Priti said. “Here, take it.”

Zoey could see that one of the signatures was smudged, and an edge of the paper was torn.

“Great!” said Phil, sticking them into his bag. “Four release forms means it's photo time!”

They moved up to Zoey's room, and the photographer staged the girls, moving Marie Antoinette so she'd be visible in the background.

“Do you have a project you're working on at the moment?” the writer asked.

“Yes,” Zoey said, taking out a minidress she'd been experimenting with after watching a movie from the 1960s with her dad and Marcus. Phil had Zoey pose with needle and thread as Priti held scissors; Libby, a tape measure; and Kate, some trim. It seemed really fake and unnatural to Zoey, but she knew they were the professionals.

“Okay, Priti, can you smile for me now?” the photographer asked. He snapped a whole bunch of pictures and then stopped. “Let's change the pose
slightly, but it would really help if I could get you to smile, Priti. Everyone else in the picture is smiling like the Cheshire cat, but you look like your puppy just died.”

“I'm sorry,” Priti said, sounding very subdued. “I promise I'll smile this time.”

Zoey couldn't understand what was wrong with her friend. It was so unlike her. Usually, Priti would be in her element doing this kind of thing. She normally loved having her picture taken and was the most smiley and bubbly of all of them.

This time, Phil wanted Zoey posed with her fingers on her laptop, as if she were in the middle of writing a new blog post, and the girls huddled around her, leaning in to look at the screen, pretending to be excited by her fabulous new design.

“Can we be on the bed instead of by my worktable?” Zoey asked. “That's where I normally blog.”

“Let's try it both ways,” the photographer proposed.

He kept having to remind Priti to smile after every shot. Zoey had been worried something was going on with Priti for a while. Now she was
absolutely 100 percent sure something was wrong.

Before they left the bedroom, Phil wanted a fun shot of them giving Marie Antoinette a group hug.

“I don't know if we'll use it in the feature, but let's take it, anyway, just for giggles,” he said.

“Can you send it to us?” Zoey asked.

“Sure,” the photographer said. “If it's not used in the feature, I'll make sure the editor forwards it to you.”

After taking some family pictures with Marcus and her dad in the kitchen, pretending to make and eat dinner, the
Très Chic
team packed up their gear.

There sure is a lot of
pretending
in these photo shoots,
Zoey thought.

“We've got everything we need,” the reporter said. “Our editor will e-mail you the link as soon as the feature is live. Good luck with your designs!”

“Thanks,” Zoey said as the crew waved good-bye and left the room. “I still feel like I'm going to wake up in a minute and find out this was all a dream! But it wasn't, was it? It's been so much fun!”

“It has,” Libby agreed. “I can't wait to see the pictures.”

“Me too,” Kate said. “Especially the ones with us all hugging Marie Antoinette.”

Kate walked home, and Libby's mom came to pick her up, but as had so often been the case recently, Priti seemed in no rush to go home.

“Priti, what's the matter?” Zoey asked. “The photographer had to fight to get a smile out of you during the shoot, which isn't like you at all. To tell you the truth, you haven't been yourself for a few weeks now.”

Priti fidgeted with the rubber bracelets she was wearing, twisting them around her wrist, but she didn't say anything.

“Come on. I know something is wrong, Priti. Don't you want to talk about it?”

When Priti looked up at Zoey, her brown eyes were brimming with tears. “It's my parents, Zo. They're . . . having problems. They've been fighting like crazy. You heard them that day when we practiced at my house, right?”

Zoey nodded.

“It's been like that for a while. They won't agree on anything anymore. You have no idea how hard
it was to get them to sign the release form for the photo shoot. Everything is an argument, even good things. My mom signed it, but my dad thought it wasn't a good idea for me to be in a magazine. Finally, he caved when I started crying.”

“Gosh, I'm sorry,” Zoey said, now understanding why Priti's release form was in such bad shape.

“You know, I've been trying to ignore it, because talking about it makes it feel . . . real,” Priti confessed, wiping away a tear. Her hand was shaking, so Zoey held it in hers. “But I can't ignore it, no matter how hard I try. It is real. Last night they sat us all down and said they're starting couples counseling, which means they are going to get divorced, doesn't it? And if they get divorced then what will happen? We'll probably have to move, and then I wouldn't be able to go to Mapleton Prep, and then I'll miss my friends and—”

Priti couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into tears.

Zoey rubbed Priti's back to comfort her. When Priti's sobs had slowed down, Zoey got her some tissues.

“Have you tried talking to Sashi and Tara?” she asked.

“Y-yes.” Priti sniffed. “But they just snap at me to stop talking about it, because they're worried about it too, and they have even more to worry about with getting into college and stuff.”

“I'm not an expert or anything, but . . . if your parents are doing counseling, doesn't that mean they're trying to work things out so they can stay together?” Zoey asked.

“I guess,” Priti said. “But . . . what if it doesn't work? What if they
do
get d-divorced? It's going to be terrible.”

Another tear escaped from her eye, and she blotted it away with a tissue.

“It would stink if they get divorced,” Zoey agreed. “I can't say it wouldn't. But your parents will still love you no matter what happens between them.”

“I g-guess.”

“And we'll all be here to support you, come what may. BFFs, remember?”

“I know, but . . . it's divorce, Zo. The D word. Things would never be the same,” Priti said.

“But that doesn't mean you wouldn't ever be happy,” Zoey pointed out. “I mean, Aunt Lulu got divorced, and she seems happy enough.”

“Aunt Lulu was married?” Priti asked, surprised. She'd always thought of Zoey's aunt as single.