Stories from New York #3 (12 page)

The sounds of our footsteps made clattering sounds that echoed up and down the stairwell. I couldn’t believe Dakota could climbs stairs that fast in the shoes she had on.

“Hey, Quincy,” said Ivy, sounding a little out of breath. “How did you even know where the sample
room was? There’s no sign on it or anything.”

“Hah. I was wondering when one of you was going to ask me that. It’s because this isn’t my first time visiting
City Nation
,” Quincy said cheerfully as we rounded a landing and started up another flight. “About a year ago I was picked to be in the ‘Young Up-and-Coming’ layout. You know that huge picture they do every year with the forty actors under age twenty-five they think are most likely to make it big?”

“Oh, with the foldout picture? I love it when they do that!” I said. “You were in one of those?”

“Yep!” Quincy said. “And they gave us a tour. It’s all a blur, except for the sample room. We just kind of peeked in, then we had to go. I told myself that day if I ever found myself at
City Nation
again, which I was positive I wouldn’t, that I would get a better look at the sample room. And when I got my chance, I remembered more or less where it was. And the guest pass they gave me unlocked the door.”

“That’s amazing!” Ivy said. “One year later, and you’re going to be on the cover!”

“I know—it doesn’t seem real,” Quincy said. “Sometimes I still think it’s all just a really cool dream.”

“It’s open!” Dakota was exclaiming. She had reached the next landing and was holding open a door. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“You did,” Ivy said. “I’m not sure even Constantia knows as much about how this place runs as you do. Good work.”

I smiled at my friend. Whether Ivy liked someone or not, she always made a point of giving credit where it was due. It was one of the many things I really liked about her.

Directly through the door was a little alcove with shelves stacked with bottles of water and a small refrigerator and microwave on a makeshift countertop. A heavy black curtain covered a space to our left, and light streamed in behind it.

“How do we get to the studio?” I asked.

“We’re in it,” Dakota said. “Follow me.” Then she ducked around the black curtain.

Ivy pulled one corner of the curtain to the side, and together we walked through.

We were in a large, high-ceilinged room with enormous windows. At one end of the room was a white screen surrounded by large electric lights, several fans, and a bank of computers. On another wall were rack after rack of dresses, and near that were three tables covered with makeup. A group of people were standing together near the computers. More than half of them were dressed entirely in black, and all of them were talking on their cell phones.

I felt like Dorothy and her friends arriving at the palace of the Great and Terrible Oz. We’d come all this way, and for a moment nothing was happening. No one seemed to realize we had arrived. Then a slim older woman with a mass of curly gray hair tucked partly under a black newsboy cap turned and caught sight of us.

“Quincy!” she exclaimed.

And then EVERYONE was looking at us, and people were popping out from behind screens, around doorways—they seemed to be appearing out of thin air from every conceivable direction, several of them uttering an astonished “Quincy!” as they did. I saw Vicky looking around, trying to spot Quincy, while Bob switched on his camera.

In just moments, a crowd of editors, stylists, photographers, and assistants were surrounding Quincy without actually getting all that close to her.
She won’t be escaping a second time today
, I thought.

“You crazy, brilliant girls—I can’t believe you did it!”

Garamond was standing with Ivy’s mother, looking from us to Quincy with an expression of utter delight. He bounded over to us and enveloped Ivy in a hug.

“What am I missing?” Mrs. Scanlon asked. “Garamond, what did they do? Whatever it is, I think I’m extremely happy about it.”

“Dakota came in and told us what was going on,” Ivy said. “We got to talking, and we tried to figure out where Quincy would have gone. Then Dakota and Miko came up with an idea, and we went to check it out.”

“And you found her!” Garamond said. “I want to
know everything. Every detail! But not right now.”

He turned and pushed his way through the people surrounding Quincy.

“Quincy, darling!” I heard him say. “I was just this second wondering where you were. Are you ready for makeup?”

Mrs. Scanlon shook her head in amazement, smiling at us. “And just like that, the shoot is back on,” she said. “This really is a crazy place, and you girls seem to fit right in. Listen, however you managed this—and Garamond isn’t the only one who wants to hear every single detail—you’ve saved the day. Text Tally and Miko and tell them how to get up here, okay? I’ll get word to the receptionist to let them through. You four have definitely earned the right to cover this shoot!”

“Thanks, Mom,” Ivy said, her face shining.

“What about me?” Dakota asked.

Mrs. Scanlon hesitated. “Oh dear. Technically I don’t have the authority to allow an intern on set. That’s really Garamond’s call,” she said. “But none of us are going to be able to get within three feet of him until this shoot is over.”

“Mom, we couldn’t have even found Quincy without Dakota,” Ivy said. “If there’s any way it’s possible, she deserves to be here more than we do.”

Dakota stared at Ivy in astonishment, like she just
couldn’t believe Ivy had just spoken up for her like that. How could Dakota have known Ivy for so many years and not have realized what an AWESOME girl she was? And more than that, what an AMAZING friend.

“It’s true,” I said. “Dakota was the mastermind.”

“Then I owe you a big thanks as well, Dakota,” Mrs. Scanlon said. “And by all means, please stay. I’m sure Garamond will agree. Eventually.”

There was a bit of a commotion, and heads began turning.

“Is it Helvetica?” Ivy whispered, standing on the tips of her toes to try and see over all the people between us and the studio’s main entrance.

I got a quick glimpse and nodded. Helvetica Grenier had arrived.

She wasn’t the tallest person in New York, but every person in that room instantly registered her presence. You could practically feel the moment when everyone became super self-conscious. Helvetica was talking to Constantia and scanning the room with narrowed, thoughtful eyes. She was dressed head to toe in red.

“Wow, red!” I murmured even though I knew you weren’t supposed to comment.

“It’s Etruscan Pomegranate,” someone near me corrected softly.

Of course it was. I checked just to make sure I
wasn’t wearing Etruscan Pomegranate. My sweater was definitely Flamingo Pink. I was safe.

“There’s room for all of us to sit on the windowsill,” Dakota said. “We’ll be able to see everything from there.”

“Great,” Ivy said. “Miko says they’re on their way up!”

Dakota was right again. From our vantage point on the wide, sunny window ledge, we could see almost everything that was going on in the room.

The gray-haired woman in the newsboy cap and an oversize mountain of a man in a shiny green jacket had wheeled a rack to the center of the room, where Garamond stood inspecting it. He pointed at a dress and then another and then a third. The woman removed the three dresses from the rack and carried them to a curtained-off area in the corner that might have been a changing area.

“Those are Violettas,” Dakota remarked. “Looks like Quincy is getting what she wanted after all.”

“Oh! There’s Tally and Miko!” I said, waving both my hands in the air to get their attention. Ivy did the same. Miko caught sight of us right away and led Tally by the arm over to us. Tally was looking from right to left, her eyes wide, taking everything in. I noticed with a laugh that she had one hand pressed over her mouth. Tally was going to do whatever
it took to keep herself out of the spotlight at
City Nation
.

“What happened?” Miko asked when she reached us. “You guys never came back. So we figured someone found Quincy.”

I grinned. “WE found Quincy,” I said.

Tally pulled her hand away from her face. “You did?” she exclaimed.

“She was in the sample room, just like we thought, Miko,” Dakota said.

“Wait, rewind,” Miko said. “Tell us exactly what happened after you left the interns’ office.”

“Quiet, please!” I heard Garamond bellow. I was amazed that he had such a huge voice. The entire room instantly fell silent.

“Thank you. We are ready to go,” Garamond announced. “If you do not have specific authorization to be here, now is the time to leave. This is a closed set. If you don’t know if you’re supposed to be here, then you’re
not
supposed to be here. Everyone else, I’m very pleased to present the beautiful and very talented Quincy Vanderstan, wearing Violetta.”

Quincy emerged from behind the curtained area with a brilliant smile on her face. She was wearing an eggplant-purple tea-length dress that looked classically old, maybe Victorian, with a plaid jacket that was short and tailored and fitted together with
tiny gear-shaped links. The dress flowed fully in multiple, slightly off-kilter layers, and the whole outfit was crowned by a shiny black top hat, over which was fitted a pair of gleaming metal and glass goggles.

“Wow!” Ivy said. “She looks amazing!”

Everyone began to clap. Bob had the camera trained on Quincy, who beamed at everyone happily. When she caught sight of us on the window ledge, she waved. Bob turned the camera toward us, and for a moment I felt self-conscious, but then I waved back at Quincy. She looked so happy!

“Before we begin,” Garamond continued, “Helvetica would like to say something.”

Helvetica tucked one perfect lock of hair behind her ear to reveal an exquisite Etruscan Pomegranate earring.

“Not much more than a year ago, we selected forty young actors and actresses for our annual ‘Young Up-and-Coming’ photo spread,” Helvetica said. “I’m therefore not just pleased, but proud, that one of those actresses will be featured on our December cover. She has accomplished an extraordinary amount this year, and I’m certain this is just the beginning. I know you’ll all agree when I say that Quincy Vanderstan is a most outstanding young lady. She’s beautiful, she’s talented, and though very young, she is already
a complete professional and a pleasure to work with. We’re very honored, Quincy, to have you here today.”

Everyone clapped again, and Bob pointed the camera at Helvetica, taking several steps toward her. Vicky appeared behind him, and she moved toward Helvetica, too. A ripple went through the room, and I made a little gasp as I realized what was going on.

Vicky was wearing red. All red. A deep, vibrant red almost the precise shade of…well…Etruscan Pomegranate.

Helvetica walked forward several feet, enough so that Vicky was no longer in her line of sight. I saw two people converge on the TV producer and lead her, protesting and confused, from the room.

“I would not have believed that if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” I murmured.

“Before I leave you to your work,” Helvetica continued, “I’d like to extend one other welcome. We’re very pleased to be hosting a visit from four young publishers. Paulina Barbosa, Miko Suzuki, Tally Janeway, and Ivy Scanlon—daughter of our own Karen—who write, design, and publish their own magazine for girls. I am very happy to have the chance to encourage and endorse
4 Girls
magazine. These girls are the future of our industry both as readers and publishers. If they are any indication of what’s to come, our future is bright indeed.”

For just a few seconds, everyone in the room was looking at the four of us. We had been recognized, we had been appreciated, and we had been praised. By Helvetica Grenier.

What a story that would make!

Bright lights had been switched on, and the photo shoot finally seemed to be starting, but Quincy said something to Garamond, then rushed over to where we were sitting.

“I just had to come over for a second! How cool was that shout-out Helvetica gave you?” she asked. “Are you dying?”