Olivia Bennett - The Allegra Biscotti Collection

“Hi, Holls. Hi, Emma,” cooed a girl’s voice.

Emma and Holly lifted their heads to see Lexie walking slowly yet confidently down the hall, hand in hand with Jackson.

“Hey Lex, hey Jackson,” Holly said as they passed by.

Emma just gaped. Holly turned toward her. “I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“No biggie. He’s probably a jerk anyway,” Emma said when she found her voice again. But they both knew she still thought Jackson was the furthest thing from a jerk. She couldn’t help but be shocked that Jackson went for Lexie. Even though she barely knew him, she had a hard time imagining that Lexie was his type.

“Look, I got to go to work. It’s part of the grounding deal.”

“Okay.” Holly looked uncomfortable. “Ivana is supposed to come over later to study. Any chance you want to come, too?”

“Not at all,” Emma said with a smile.

“That’s what I figured,” Holly said, also smiling. “I’ll call you tonight.”

The girls quickly hugged, then went in their separate directions.

By Friday, Emma still hadn’t heard a peep from Paige. Nothing. Silence.

She had spent the week studying and obsessing. She was getting really good at both. She took the Western civilization exam that afternoon. She didn’t do perfectly, but she thought she might have done well enough to make it into the class.

She arrived at Laceland a bit later than usual that afternoon. The office was silent.

“Where is everybody?” Emma asked Marjorie as she slid out of her puffy, gold down vest.

Marjorie rolled her lips to evenly distribute the frosted pink lipstick she had just applied and then inspected herself in her hand mirror. “Your dad is at an after-school conference for William, and Isaac’s out making deliveries. The phones have been quiet today, too. No important calls, if you know what I mean. How about you?”

Emma frowned. “Nope, not a single one.”

“I wouldn’t take it to mean anything, honey. People like Paige Young have a limited attention span. They can only focus on the most urgent things in front of them. I’m sure she’ll be in touch soon—probably when she needs something.” Marjorie stood up to put on her black felt coat. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Emma settled herself in Marjorie’s chair. She opened up her bag to see what schoolwork she could get a jump on, so she wouldn’t have to spend the entire weekend studying. She and Holly had made plans for Holly to come over and watch a movie on Saturday afternoon— just the two of them—and Emma didn’t want there to be any chance that she’d have to cancel. But as she considered her options, she realized that her brain was tired from studying and taking the test. Maybe I’ll just color in some of my sketches from this week’s rounds of the Game, Emma decided.

She pulled out her sketchbook and then leaned over to dig deeper in her bag to find her pencils, which were all stuck at the bottom. She heard the sound of the front door opening.

Emma lifted her head and almost fell off the chair.

Standing right in front of her, immaculately dressed in a gray wool slim skirt and a deep-purple boat-neck blouse with kimono sleeves, and with her hands on her hips and an unmistakable glare directed at Emma, was Paige Young.

“How was school today, Allegra? ” Paige asked.

Emma was too shocked by Paige Young standing in front of her—calling her “Allegra”—to breathe, much less say a single word.

“The look on your face,” Paige said coolly, “is pretty much all the proof I need to know that I’m one thousand percent right.”

“I…uh…” Emma faltered.

“Wow. Wow , I can not believe it,” Paige said, more to herself than to Emma. “Usually I l-o-v-e being right—it’s one of my favorite things—but until a few seconds ago, I was still hoping that perhaps I was wrong about this one. It would’ve been a whole lot easier if I had been wrong—for the both of us,” Paige said, looking right at Emma.

“How did you find out?” Emma asked quietly.

“I hate to tell you, but it wasn’t that hard. I had a funny feeling about ‘Allegra Biscotti’ the whole time, but I kept telling myself that I was just being paranoid since I was going further out on a limb than I’d normally go. Usually I like to—I don’t know— speak to the designers I’m working with. Call me crazy, but it makes me feel better about them actually existing and all, if you know what I mean.

“Anyway, after I came here looking for Allegra and the receptionist tried to cover up the fact that she had never even heard of Allegra Biscotti, my radar went right up. So I had my assistant call the number you gave me from her cell phone, and you picked up because you didn’t recognize the number. I only met you those couple of times, but I did recognize your voice. So voilà—now I’m a fashion detective.” Paige laughed ruefully.

“I’m so sorry!” Emma exclaimed, the words now tumbling out. “I didn’t mean to trick you. I never in a million years thought it would go this far, but when it did, well, I just couldn’t pass up the amazing opportunity you had given me. I wanted to tell you so many times—I really did—but then it felt too late, somehow…but I promise to come clean. I’ll tell whoever you want me to tell that it was totally my fault and that you had no idea—”

“Oh, no you won’t!” Paige interrupted, bringing her hand down hard on the counter, the back of her huge cushion-cut engagement ring clunking against the Formica surface. “That’s so not going to happen. You want to know the real reason I didn’t pull the plug on this whole thing before? Because all the editors at Madison , including yours truly, found Allegra’s—your, whoever’s—designs to be fresh and inspired and, well, completely fabulous. Exactly as I anticipated.

“They went absolutely cray-zee over your stuff. Would you believe that they actually gave me a hard time about only asking you—Allegra—whomever for three pieces? I had to beat them off with a stick. It was in-SAN-ity.”

“Really?” As terrified as Emma was by being confronted by Paige, she couldn’t help but be thrilled. The editors of Madison magazine loved my designs! Emma thought with delight. They loved them! Loved them!

“ Yes, really . Look, I have too much of my own career as the-editor-who-discovered-this-year’s-hottest-new-designer riding on your whole phantom designer house of cards to be ridiculed if people find out Allegra Biscotti is really a—how old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Is really a fourteen-year-old girl, without a minute of formal training no less! I refuse to become the laughingstock of the fashion industry. I have bigger aspirations than being part of the punch line for a fourteen-year-old’s fashion caper. Much bigger.”

“Oh.” Emma looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to mess up your career or make you look stupid. I would never want that to happen. Allegra can just disappear. Maybe someday we can—”