Olivia Bennett - The Allegra Biscotti Collection

William’s face lit up. “Really? I mean, sure, whatever.”

“Come in and sit.” She cleared off a tiny spot for him to perch at the end of her bed. Emma held up sketches of two different dresses to show William: one a fuchsia strapless tiered-ruffle mini, and the other a long-sleeved subtle A-line black one with leopard-print collar, cuffs, and pockets. “Which one do you like better: this one or this one?”

He scrunched up his face and then pointed to the strapless mini.

“Hmm. Okay, good.” She put down those sketchbooks and picked up two more, flipping to a drawing of an updated opera coat with three-quarter-length sleeves and big rhinestone buttons and shimmery trim, and another of a short-cropped gold jacket with bracelet-length sleeves and graffiti-like multicolored embroidery on the back. “This one or that one?”

“That one!” he said more enthusiastically this time, tapping the sketch of the cropped jacket with his fingers.

“All right…” Emma shuffled sketchbooks again and held up two more. “How about this”—swingy, wide-legged raw silk trousers in a cobalt blue—“or this?”—black satin skinny pants with zippers and studs and a baby-pink silk ribbon belt.

“This one!” He pointed at the wide-legged trousers, bouncing up and down on the bed.

Hey, this is actually good, Emma thought. He was helping narrow down some of her options.

“Now let’s go back to the beginning,” she said, reaching for the first sketches she showed him. “Why did you choose the strapless minidress over the leopard-print one?”

He blinked at her a few times.

“You don’t have to use any fancy fashion terms,” she explained. “Just tell me what you like about this dress in your own words. The color? The shape? A certain detail?”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to have a reason.” He shrugged and smirked. “I just kept going back and forth between what was in your left hand and what was in your right.”

“Out!” Emma screamed. She couldn’t believe he lured her into his little game. “Get out of here.”

Will danced a victory dance, a cross between a winning-touchdown celebration and the jig of the Lucky Charms guy. “Already gone.” He flashed a satisfied smile as he left the room.

Emma flopped back against her pillows, spreading her arms wide. She imagined herself in a charming design studio in Paris—black-and-white toile wallpaper and hot-pink velvet sofas—a place where fashionable ideas flowed. Not in a messy apartment with an annoying brother. But that wasn’t going to happen. At least not tonight.

I need ideas that are striking, she thought, things that will put Allegra Biscotti on the fashion map. Her designs had to live up to what Paige said in her blog about Allegra’s designs being “fresh,” “playful,” and “imaginative.”

It was weird. She’d never thought that she was designing the way Paige Young had said. She just designed what she wanted from things she saw that inspired her, made her curious, or—like when she played the Game—made her want to redo something her way. Sometimes she just fell in love with a fabric or a color—or a button made of dozens of tiny pink and red rhinestones. It was never a conscious thing. Her designs just sort of happened.

She hated feeling like this, so unsure, so nervous.

She raised her head. I never feel like that when I’m making things for myself, she realized. I need to concentrate on what I think, what I like, what makes me happy.

She was determined to come up with something—something that would be fun to create.

The usual amount of school-assembly chaos greeted Emma as she walked into the auditorium for last period. All the students, as well as the whole faculty and most of the staff, were packed into the room, and everyone seemed be taking full advantage of the minutes before the program started—something about a new eco-friendly initiative Downtown Day was launching—to socialize at top volume.

Two days had passed since Paige had asked Allegra for clothes for the photo shoot, and Emma still hadn’t come up with any fabulous fashion-forward ideas. Not even any semi-fabulous ones.

Emma scanned the crowd looking for Holly. Holly had texted her that morning, saying Emma should sit with her —not us . Emma wondered if that was her way of apologizing for the Bloomingdale’s Incident. She hoped so. She could use some friendship repair time, just her and Holly.

She spotted the back of Holly’s head about halfway down the aisle and hurried toward her. She stopped when she saw Ivana’s trademark red hair. Holly sat next to Ivana. And Lexie, Shannon, and Kayla. Unreal , Emma thought, trying to figure out what Holly was up to. There was no seat for her.

Why did Holly bother asking me to sit next to her if she was just going to sit with them? Emma wondered. She shifted on her feet, not knowing where to go. Somehow she was the only one standing in the aisle. Everyone else was already slumped in a seat.

Emma felt her confusion harden, tighten into anger.

“Holly,” she called through gritted teeth. “Holly!”

Holly finally turned and waved. As if nothing was wrong. Emma tried to call up the nerve to just walk away. To leave Holly. Instead, she stood, frozen in the aisle, completely awkward, as she waited for Holly to scurry across the row.

“Sorry, Em. The seat thing kind of just…happened,” Holly whispered, anxiously glancing over toward Ivana and the ’Bees to see if they were watching her.

She’s actually nervous to be seen talking to me? The sitting-together thing was her idea. And now there’s nowhere for me to sit at all. Emma wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Mean-girl comebacks weren’t her thing. She could never achieve the right withering tone and stance. But she either had to let Holly have it or walk away or—

“Oops! I left my bag over there by mistake,” Holly said strangely loudly as she walked a few rows back. She reached across a couple of seats and plucked her bag off an empty chair. Then she motioned Emma. “Em, you should sit here.”

Emma so wanted to tell Holly where she should sit. Then Emma saw the seat Holly was pointing to. It was right next to Jackson.

“Two-minute warning, people!” Vice Principal Manning’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers. “Please start settling down. We’re going to start as soon as we get our video equipment running.”

Emma glanced around quickly. Every seat in this part of the auditorium was taken. Except that one. Jackson was too busy reading a book to notice that she and Holly were even standing there. What if Jackson is saving this seat for someone else…like Lexie? But no, Lexie was in her rightful place on the other side of Ivana.

Holly nudged her with her foot and nodded, then hurried back to her own spot.

Emma felt her feet carrying her toward Jackson before her brain could formulate a plan. She gingerly slid into the maroon fabric seat next to him. Had Holly been planning for Emma to sit next to Jackson all along? Was this Holly’s wacky way of making up? Emma considered the possibilities as the vice principal and some other staff members huddled around the tech table. They didn’t seem to be making much progress.

She finally let herself glance quickly to the left. That’s not the inside of a biology book, Emma thought. She craned her neck to get a better peek. Now she could see exactly what he was so interested in. A comic book hidden inside the textbook. A second later, Clayton Vanderbeck, one of the guys on the soccer team, reached across Emma from behind and snatched the comic out of Jackson’s hands.