racing to their lockers, off to their bus and subway stops, and to after-school activities. But Emma stayed behind. The book was packed with illustrations that inspired so many ideas. She couldn’t sketch fast enough.
Straight tunics split at the hip with bands of color. Crisp-pleated maxi dresses. Sandals adorned with clusters of sparkling stones. Broad jeweled collars.
She sensed Ms. Williams, the librarian, tidying up the room and shelving the books left on the tables. Emma didn’t look up. She had to get her ideas down before they were pushed out of her mind by homework and the subway ride to Laceland.
“I like that one. Looks like one of those fancy dresses actresses wear to awards shows,” said a voice behind her.
Emma turned to see Jackson. His lips turned up in a half-smile as he adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and peeked at her drawings. Maybe he wasn’t angry anymore. Maybe she had another chance.
“Hi!” she said brightly. She was sure Holly would say she shouldn’t allow her voice to give away how excited she was to see him, but Holly wasn’t here and she did like him. “Don’t you have basketball practice?”
“Yeah, but I forgot to check out a book for that English paper tonight. Coach is okay if I’m late.” He sat on the chair next to her. “Well, a little late. A lot late and he’ll make me run the bleachers. What’re you doing? Giving Ms. Williams a new look?”
“Shhh!” Emma glanced at Ms. Williams, who was now scanning bar codes. The old woman dressed as if she were a 1950s schoolgirl. Her gray wool skirt fell far below her knees, her pale yellow blouse had a sweet Peter Pan collar, and her thin cardigan was trimmed with tiny pearl buttons. Emma could easily transform the look into sassy-retro. She’d shorten the hem and pouf the skirt, button the collar to the chin, add a cinch belt and saddle shoes, and dangle cat-eye glasses in a bright color from a chain around her neck. Of course, Ms. Williams would have to be thirty years younger to properly pull off the nod to vintage.
“This dress is inspired by Cleopatra. It’s totally not for Mrs. Williams. Can you see her sailing along the Nile in something this form-fitting?” Emma wasn’t trying to be unkind. There was just no denying that Ms. Williams had the lumpy older woman thing going on.
“A scary thought.” Jackson pretended to shudder.
“I found this book during Western Civ and it got me sketching. I’m trying to reinterpret Cleopatra’s gown. Like here, I crisscrossed the straps twice to give it a more geometric look.” She pointed to the detail she added at the back of the dress.
Jackson glanced at her sketch but didn’t seem to grasp the design elements that she was working so hard to incorporate. Instead, he reached for the oversized book and flipped through its pages. “Do you ever wish you were her?”
“Who? Cleopatra?”
“Yeah, I mean, she was Queen of Egypt.”
Emma shrugged. “Honestly, I’d never really thought about her before today. She is amazing, though. She seems to radiate power—”
“Like her secret weapon,” Jackson finished. “Or her super power.”
“Do you turn everyone into a comic book hero?” Emma teased. Jackson had a thing for comics. She’d caught him secretly drawing in his notebook last semester when they had History together. Jackson didn’t draw wrap dresses and strappy sandals. Instead his margins were crammed with caped crusaders, angular villains, and everyday objects transformed into weapons.
“Cleopatra would be wicked in a comic book. Her headdress could become radioactive at will. She’d be able to vaporize Pharaohs. She’d make the Egyptians her slaves.” Jackson’s deep-blue eyes widened.
“I think the Egyptians were already her slaves,” Emma pointed out.
“Technicality.” He turned his gaze upon her. A warm blush crept along her hairline. “If you were a super hero, what powers would you want?”
“Me? Seriously?” Emma
Straight tunics split at the hip with bands of color. Crisp-pleated maxi dresses. Sandals adorned with clusters of sparkling stones. Broad jeweled collars.
She sensed Ms. Williams, the librarian, tidying up the room and shelving the books left on the tables. Emma didn’t look up. She had to get her ideas down before they were pushed out of her mind by homework and the subway ride to Laceland.
“I like that one. Looks like one of those fancy dresses actresses wear to awards shows,” said a voice behind her.
Emma turned to see Jackson. His lips turned up in a half-smile as he adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and peeked at her drawings. Maybe he wasn’t angry anymore. Maybe she had another chance.
“Hi!” she said brightly. She was sure Holly would say she shouldn’t allow her voice to give away how excited she was to see him, but Holly wasn’t here and she did like him. “Don’t you have basketball practice?”
“Yeah, but I forgot to check out a book for that English paper tonight. Coach is okay if I’m late.” He sat on the chair next to her. “Well, a little late. A lot late and he’ll make me run the bleachers. What’re you doing? Giving Ms. Williams a new look?”
“Shhh!” Emma glanced at Ms. Williams, who was now scanning bar codes. The old woman dressed as if she were a 1950s schoolgirl. Her gray wool skirt fell far below her knees, her pale yellow blouse had a sweet Peter Pan collar, and her thin cardigan was trimmed with tiny pearl buttons. Emma could easily transform the look into sassy-retro. She’d shorten the hem and pouf the skirt, button the collar to the chin, add a cinch belt and saddle shoes, and dangle cat-eye glasses in a bright color from a chain around her neck. Of course, Ms. Williams would have to be thirty years younger to properly pull off the nod to vintage.
“This dress is inspired by Cleopatra. It’s totally not for Mrs. Williams. Can you see her sailing along the Nile in something this form-fitting?” Emma wasn’t trying to be unkind. There was just no denying that Ms. Williams had the lumpy older woman thing going on.
“A scary thought.” Jackson pretended to shudder.
“I found this book during Western Civ and it got me sketching. I’m trying to reinterpret Cleopatra’s gown. Like here, I crisscrossed the straps twice to give it a more geometric look.” She pointed to the detail she added at the back of the dress.
Jackson glanced at her sketch but didn’t seem to grasp the design elements that she was working so hard to incorporate. Instead, he reached for the oversized book and flipped through its pages. “Do you ever wish you were her?”
“Who? Cleopatra?”
“Yeah, I mean, she was Queen of Egypt.”
Emma shrugged. “Honestly, I’d never really thought about her before today. She is amazing, though. She seems to radiate power—”
“Like her secret weapon,” Jackson finished. “Or her super power.”
“Do you turn everyone into a comic book hero?” Emma teased. Jackson had a thing for comics. She’d caught him secretly drawing in his notebook last semester when they had History together. Jackson didn’t draw wrap dresses and strappy sandals. Instead his margins were crammed with caped crusaders, angular villains, and everyday objects transformed into weapons.
“Cleopatra would be wicked in a comic book. Her headdress could become radioactive at will. She’d be able to vaporize Pharaohs. She’d make the Egyptians her slaves.” Jackson’s deep-blue eyes widened.
“I think the Egyptians were already her slaves,” Emma pointed out.
“Technicality.” He turned his gaze upon her. A warm blush crept along her hairline. “If you were a super hero, what powers would you want?”
“Me? Seriously?” Emma
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