Chloe by Design: Making the Cut Read online

  It’s almost eleven o’clock now, and they’re on number nineteen. Finally.

  Alex lets out a big yawn, which makes my mom and me yawn too. It seems to be contagious since everyone around us is yawning. “How much longer?” Alex asks sleepily. Her eyes are starting to drift closed.

  “I’m next,” I reply. I’m ready to go, but I’m also starting to get nervous as my time draws closer.

  Just then, the producer appears with her clipboard and searches the list of numbers. “Number twenty!” she calls. “Chloe Montgomery?”

  I leap up. “Right here.”

  My mom stands up and gives me a big hug. “Go get ’em,” she says. “And remember that no matter what happens, your dad and I are so proud of you.”

  Alex jumps up too and squeezes me tight. “You’ve got this in the bag, CC,” she whispers to me. “Knock those judges dead.”

  I carefully gather my designs and make my way to the auditorium where the judges are waiting. My palms are sweating, and I have to remind myself to stay calm as I walk up the steps to the stage. I hang my designs on the rack beside me and turn to face the judges.

  I almost can’t believe it. It’s really them! Jasmine looks back at me with her mouth set in a stern line. Missy is all teeth and smiles. And Hunter — how did I never notice that adorable dimple in his left cheek?

  I must stare at them a bit too long because I hear Jasmine clear her throat. “Girl,” she says, “we haven’t got all day. You have something you want to tell us about?”

  I snap to attention and become the professional me I practiced in front of the mirror, my parents, and Alex. I start with my first dress. “For this dress, I wanted something that could transition easily from a daytime look to an evening look,” I explain. “It’s important for me to have something I can wear to school and also out later with friends. And because I tend to keep my style simple, I wanted something that reflected that. That’s why I opted for this neutral fabric. The color can be dressed up or down with accessories depending on when and where it’s being worn, which makes the dress extremely versatile.”

  I catch sight of Hunter’s face as I’m talking the judges through my design, and he looks impressed. Or at least I think he does. My confidence builds as I get to my next design — the monochromatic leggings and tunic.

  “I really liked the idea of using two very different colors and fabrics for this outfit in order to create contrast,” I explain. “The subtle leather accents at the shoulders and along the side seams of the leggings add some visual interest without being too loud or overwhelming, which again, sticks to my personal style aesthetic — simple but chic.”

  I see Jasmine crack a small smile of approval at my explanation.

  “Lovely,” says Missy when I’ve finished describing my first two pieces. “So far I’m in your corner. Tell us about your final design, Chloe.”

  This is it, I think to myself. If you pull this off, you’ve made it through the first round. My throat has suddenly gone dry, and I swallow hard. Hunter and Missy are still smiling at me, but I see Hunter glance at his watch. Jasmine’s face is clearly impatient.

  “So, um, for this piece I chose silk?” I hate how my voice goes up at the end, like I’m asking a question. Be confident, Chloe. Come on, I think.

  I take a deep breath and keep going. “To be honest, I haven’t done much work with silk before,” I confess, “but I wanted to challenge myself.”

  Was it smart or dumb to be so up front about not having much experience with silk? Oh, well. Too late to take it back now. Just keep going. “But since I didn’t want to fall completely on my face, I decided to create a simpler dress pattern and went with a shift,” I say. “I added an asymmetrical hem and sweeping shoulder drape to create some visual interest and add a more modern twist.”

  I pause to see if the judges have anything to say, but they’re still staring at me expectantly. “Right, so one of the best things about shift dresses is their versatility. They look simple, but they work with any body type. Add a belt, and you get more definition around the waist. Wear it loose, and you can share it with a friend who’s a different size.”

  “Do you mind if I come take a look at the stitching?” Jasmine asks.

  “Sure. Missy and Hunter, do you want to come look too?” I suggest, getting bold.

  Missy and Hunter laugh. “Why not?” Hunter says.

  The three of them walk around my shift dress, examining the fabric and stitching. I know what I envisioned for the dress didn’t come together, because like Mimi predicted, the silk I chose was super difficult to work with. Even after taking a break from my design and coming back to it, things didn’t improve. I managed to pull the dress together, and it’s better than what I’ve done in the past. But still . . . I know it’s not great.

  I hope the judges don’t notice the fraying at the edge of the asymmetrical hem, but I’m sure they do. I should have used my serger to fix them. Why didn’t I think of that before? I’m seriously starting to regret letting them all come up, but thankfully after a few minutes they move toward my first two designs, and I let out a sigh of relief. At least they’ll see how careful I was with those.

  Finally, the three judges finish their in-depth examination of my work and head back to their table. They say nothing else to me, but lean their heads together and talk amongst themselves. It seems to take forever, and the suspense is killing me. Finally, after a few minutes, they all sit back in their seats and look straight at me.

  “I’ll go first,” Jasmine says, and I mentally brace myself for whatever she has to say. “Let’s start with the good. I’m very impressed with your creative vision and clear sense of personal style, which is rare in someone so young. Even if you hadn’t told us, I can tell from all your designs that your style is minimalist yet chic, and I like that I didn’t have to rack my brain to figure that out. I can’t say the same about most of the designs I’ve seen today. One girl told us her style was ‘zombie sweet.’ Puh-leeze. That’s not a style. It’s a Halloween costume.”

  “Jazz,” Hunter interrupts her. “Tone it down. They’re kids.”

  Jasmine lets out an agitated sigh. “Okay, then. I’ll try to be nice about what I don’t like.”

  I plaster a smile on my face and will myself not to start crying. She liked a lot of your designs, just remember that, I tell myself.

  “Sweetie,” Jasmine starts, and the word sounds so unnatural from her, “why silk? I mean, it’s high school. And it’s not a party dress; you’re billing it as everyday. Who has the time to clean and take care of silk on a daily basis? It also wrinkles easily. I mean, I can stretch my imagination and give it to you in terms of style, but girlfriend, the stitching. Uh-uh. Not gonna fly.”

  My smile starts to disappear, and I feel my eyes getting watery. The funny thing is, this is Jasmine being nice, and I know it. If I were a regular adult on her show, she’d really let me have it.

  But before the tears can spill over, Hunter jumps in. Focus on the dimple, focus on the dimple, I tell myself.

  “Chloe, you have real talent,” he starts. “That’s clear to all three of us. I won’t repeat Jasmine’s points on personal style, but they’re spot on. So, let me get to the one piece that stumped us. I saw where you were going with the silk. And I admire someone who’s willing to take a risk, especially in a high-pressure situation like this. I noticed you tried to fix some errors by using the overcast stitch. The problem was that the silk still bunched up. But—”

  I must look like I’m about to cry again because Missy interrupts. “Darling, you’ve got style and we all see it. I mean look at those heels you have on today! I’m obsessed!”

  I smile for real this time and try not to laugh. My shoes have absolutely nothing to do with this competition and we all know it, but I can see why they keep Missy around. Without her positive feedback, the stage would be one big sobfest.
r />   Hunter rolls his eyes. “What I was going to say before Missy interrupted me,” he says, shooting her an irritated look, “is that those stitching problems can be overcome. Trust me, if anyone saw my first attempts with silk, I’d be fired on the spot. You have potential, kiddo. I’m a yes.”

  I gasp. He’s voting already? And he said yes! I hold my breath and stare at Missy.

  “C’mon, darling. You gotta know I’m a yes. Yes, yes, yes!” says Missy.

  We all stare at Jasmine, who throws her arms in the air. “Technically, what I say doesn’t even matter. You’ve already got two yesses.”

  Jasmine is right. What she says doesn’t matter in terms of the audition, but to me it matters. A lot. I want to know what she thinks.

  Jasmine pauses before continuing. “You’re good, Chloe,” she finally says. “Really good. Promise me you’ll lay off the silk awhile, and it’s a definite yes.” She grins. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jasmine grin.

  “I promise! I promise!” I rush toward the judges’ table and hug all three of them, almost knocking them off their chairs in the process.

  Hunter hands me a blue card with instructions for the next leg of the competition, and I rush off the stage and toward the exit. But as I get to the doorway I remember something important — my outfits! As I turn to run back toward the stage, I notice a red blinking light on the ceiling.

  Are they taping this part too? I wonder. That’s just what I need — me looking like a total ditz on TV. Finally, outfits in hand, I’m out the door again.

  My mom and Alex, who is fully awake now, see me with my card in hand and a huge grin on my face and run to meet me. My outfits fall to the ground, and Mom, Alex, and I run and jump in a circle, hugging each other.

  “I made it!” I scream.

  Alex and Mom both laugh. “Yeah, we sort of got that,” Alex says. “What does the card say?”

  I glance at the card quickly. “It’s instructions for the next round of auditions,” I tell them. “I have to make accessories. It says I’m supposed to give one of my designs from this round ‘new dimension’ and demonstrate my versatility.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nina watching us. I figured she had to be around somewhere, but I was too busy being nervous to notice her earlier. She meets my gaze and gives me a thumbs-up. I mouth “thanks” and “good luck” in reply.

  “Let’s celebrate,” says my mom, hugging me tightly. “Chinese food is on me.”

  The three of us walk out of the building, arms linked. I hold tight to my designs and the note card guaranteeing me entrance to the next round tightly. My brain is already working overtime trying to come up with accessories for the next round of auditions, but I tell it to rest. There’s plenty of time to prepare for what’s ahead. For now, I’m just going to bask in the moment.

  I, Chloe Montgomery, have been criticized by Jasmine DeFabio, taken risks, and made mistakes. Through it all, I didn’t crumble. Gramps would be proud.

  “So what’s next on the fashion star’s agenda?” Alex asks as we pile into my mom’s car. “Earrings? A necklace? Your adoring fans want to know!”

  “I’ve thought about it very carefully, and I’ve made a decision. For today, I’m going to keep it simple,” I say.

  “Bracelet,” my mom guesses.

  “Better,” I reply with a grin. “Lo mein.”

  We all laugh and drive away, leaving the judges and the first round of auditions behind. For now. Soon, I’ll be on that stage again. And I know I’ll be ready.

  Did I say ready? Maybe I spoke too soon. I might be ready for the design portion of this competition, but my newfound celebrity status? Not so much. And that’s what Nina and I are now — at least in Santa Cruz. Ever since we made it through the first round of auditions last week, the local papers have been calling nonstop about interviewing us. One newspaper even started a blog called “The Sweethearts of Santa Cruz” so they can keep everyone updated about our progress in the competition.

  I’m not sure what they’re going to do if Nina and I don’t make it to New York City. (Probably start another blog to chronicle our downfall.) Nina clearly isn’t bothered by the attention. The way she’s acting — blowing kisses to anyone within two feet of her — you can tell not making it is not an option for her.

  I wish I had some of Nina’s confidence, but there are still two more rounds of auditions to go — accessories and then some mystery rodeo challenge. No one seems to know exactly what the final challenge will entail, especially since the massive California Rodeo, which is held in Salinas, usually isn’t held until the third week in July. I heard a rumor that they might be holding a special event to promote Teen Design Diva and increase the rodeo hype, but so far it’s just that — a rumor.

  I guess it makes sense for the local media to milk it for all it’s worth now. If Nina and I do end up making it to New York, everything will be taped and kept strictly under wraps. The new set of rules I got is very explicit about keeping everything hush-hush during the show’s filming.

  “OMG,” says Alex in a high-pitched voice as she approaches my locker Friday after school. “Are you Chloe Montgomery? Like for real? Can I get your autograph?”

  “Cut it out,” I say, blushing. Alex has been getting a huge kick out of my newly minted celeb status. Not only does she get to laugh at my discomfort, but because we’re usually joined at the hip, she also gets all the perks without all the embarrassment.

  “Aw, come on. You should be enjoying this. Nina sure is,” Alex says, nodding down the hallway. Sure enough, I turn and see Nina strutting toward us, fake smile firmly in place. A crowd of mini-Ninas trails behind her.

  “Ugh. I can’t deal with her right now,” I mutter. Nina and I may have called a truce for the time being, but I still don’t want to be BFFs. I’m sure she doesn’t either, but the reporters who have been hounding us seem to want us to be friends rather than rivals, so she’s playing that up for them. I just do my best not to grimace every time she hugs me.

  “Chloeee!” Nina squeals as she runs to me. “How have you been, girl?” She leans in and air kisses me on both cheeks.

  “Hey, Nina. You ready for the next round?” I ask. The mini-Ninas immediately perk up. They love hearing about anything that has to do with the competition.

  “Almost,” says Nina, smiling. “There’s an art fair tomorrow I’m planning to hit up for inspiration. See you there?”

  “Maybe,” I say, keeping my answer vague. The truth is, Alex and I have been looking forward to the art fair all week, but I don’t need to give Nina any more opportunities to steal my ideas.

  “Cool,” Nina says with a tight smile. She gives me a quick hug goodbye and motions for her posse to follow. They do, blowing air kisses to me as they go.

  “I don’t know how you put up with her,” Alex says when they’re gone. “She’s so fake it makes me sick.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. But I figure the competition is at least slightly less painful this way.” I swing my backpack over my shoulder, and Alex and I head out the school doors. As soon as we’re outside, a flash goes off. I shield my eyes and see three reporters, notepads and recorders ready. One of them excitedly motions me over.

  I groan and make my way toward the group. Nina is already there, arms moving animatedly as she tells some story.

  It seems like my CC nickname is changing again. First it was Cowardly Chloe, then Courageous Chloe. Celebrity Chloe, here I come.

  * * *

  The next day there’s a slight breeze, and the temperature is in the seventies — perfect weather for an art fair. There’s nothing worse than looking for bargains under a sweltering sun, while making sure beads of sweat don’t ruin the very items you’re trying to bargain for. Alex and I have been at the fair for an hour already, and we’ve barely scratched the surface. That could be because Alex keeps gravitating toward all the food
samples. Not that I’m protesting too hard — who turns down free chocolate?

  “It’s not just the free food that’s slowing us down here,” says Alex between bites. “Do you even know what you want to design?”

  I pretend to be extremely interested in choosing a good chocolate sample so I don’t have to answer right away. Alex knows I really have no idea what accessory I want to make yet. I haven’t even decided which piece I’m going to accessorize yet. I’ve managed to narrow it down to the leggings-and-tunic ensemble or the first dress — there’s no way I’m revisiting that silk disaster after the judges’ comments. I can still hear Jasmine’s words: “The stitching. Uh-uh. Not gonna fly.”

  “Not yet,” I finally admit. “I want it to be just right. I’ll know it when I see it.” I try to sound confident, like that’s how designers work. I’m really hoping it’s true.

  Alex shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me. I could spend all day here. I love people watching, and I see rows and rows of food samples. Just don’t try to play it off like it’s my fault your hands are empty.”

  I laugh and give Alex a playful shove. She knows me too well. “If I don’t blame you, then I have to blame myself, and that’s no fun.”

  Alex laughs too. “Tough to be you. Ooh, wait. Check out that booth over there,” she says. She points across the aisle. “I can’t tell exactly what they’re selling, but it looks colorful. Come on.”

  I follow Alex. When it comes to accessories, I tend to be a bit more liberal with color than I am with my wardrobe, which is usually full of neutrals. The right shade of a fiery tone can add spark to a bland top, and a funky metallic can add just enough pop to make an outfit shine.

  We arrive at the booth Alex spotted, and for a second I just stand there admiring all the gorgeous jewelry. I browse the pendants on the table. The pieces are all done in shades of orange and red and attached to antique chains. These designs have an old-world feel to them, which is cool, but they won’t work with my outfits. The colors aren’t right for my leggings and tunic, and the antique feel doesn’t match the modern tone of either garment. We walk around more, but nothing on the table is exactly right.