defense. Charlie didn’t dress like the other boys at Downtown Day. He wore skinny jeans and sunglasses on all but the darkest days and his taste in music was offbeat—electropop mixed with show tunes mixed with classic rock. He was a bit of a loner at school, occasionally hanging with the theater kids but content to spend lunch alone in the lounge with his headphones on. “He’s super smart and super creative.”
“What do you guys do together?” Jackson voice sound clipped and strange.
“We just hang out.” That was far from the truth, but Emma couldn’t tell Jackson that Charlie was really her partner in a secret fashion design business. “He comes to Laceland a lot. He’s always showing me clips from these really offbeat yet cool bands. Well, some aren’t so good, but a lot are. You should hang out with us. You’d like Charlie.”
If Jackson would open up, she was sure he and Charlie could find lots to talk about. Everyone at school pinned Jackson as the popular athletic kid, which was true, but Emma knew a side he kept hidden. He loved to draw. He was obsessed with comics, not just for their bold art, but for their magical stories as well.
“I can’t see that happening.” Jackson stood. “I got to get to practice.”
“Oh.” Emma didn’t want to end whatever they had going. “What about our super hero? Can I keep it?”
“She’s all yours.”
“You should write a story with her,” Emma suggested, grasping for a way to reclaim the lightness of earlier. The pronoun had suddenly changed from me to her . He hadn’t ever said it was supposed to be me, she reasoned. Maybe only she thought he meant that. Maybe the fierce girl had nothing to do with her.
“I’d need to know more about her.”
“Like what?”
“Like who she really is.” He turned to go then stopped. “What’s our super hero hiding behind her mask?”
“No one knows quite who she is or what her mission may be.” Emma ran her fingernail along the edge of the mask. “A dual identity, perhaps.”
“So she has secrets?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“I’d need a list of her secrets.” Jackson pushed open the library’s double glass doors. “You know, to really understand her character. To write the right dialogue.”
“She may not share her secrets with mere mortals.”
“That would be a problem. I’d have to make things up.” He grinned. “I might make up some really strange things for our girl.”
“I could live with that,” Emma said.
Any fictions he could create would never compete with her truths.
CHAPTER 5
THE FACE-OFF
S itting at Marjorie’s desk was torture. Pure torture.
Emma’s whole body twitched, eager to get back to her studio and begin cutting patterns and draping her collection. She desperately needed to get her ideas out of her head and out of her sketchbook and onto Her Girls. Then she could see if she had anything with true potential. Once she had draped and pinned fabric onto the dress forms, Her Girls would let her know.
But the phone would not stop ringing. And Marjorie was doing a Houdini-disappearing act.
“Noah!” Emma called down the hall. Her dad insisted she use his first name when she worked the Laceland receptionist desk. “TableDesign on line three. Something about creases in the new series of tablecloths.”
Noah Rose stood by the entrance to the small kitchen alcove. “I was just going to heat up one of those toaster strudels.”
“Dad…” Emma warned. “Mom will have a fit.” Her mom had recently imposed a strict only-organic, all-natural rule in their apartment. She was proud of and quite surprised that her husband went along with it. But Emma knew the truth. It was easy for him to be healthy for several hours at home when the majority of the day he had boxes of Oreos at the ready. Her mom had no idea how much processed junk food was stored in the little gray cupboards at Laceland.
He paused, considering. “Oh, put them through. I guess it’s a
“What do you guys do together?” Jackson voice sound clipped and strange.
“We just hang out.” That was far from the truth, but Emma couldn’t tell Jackson that Charlie was really her partner in a secret fashion design business. “He comes to Laceland a lot. He’s always showing me clips from these really offbeat yet cool bands. Well, some aren’t so good, but a lot are. You should hang out with us. You’d like Charlie.”
If Jackson would open up, she was sure he and Charlie could find lots to talk about. Everyone at school pinned Jackson as the popular athletic kid, which was true, but Emma knew a side he kept hidden. He loved to draw. He was obsessed with comics, not just for their bold art, but for their magical stories as well.
“I can’t see that happening.” Jackson stood. “I got to get to practice.”
“Oh.” Emma didn’t want to end whatever they had going. “What about our super hero? Can I keep it?”
“She’s all yours.”
“You should write a story with her,” Emma suggested, grasping for a way to reclaim the lightness of earlier. The pronoun had suddenly changed from me to her . He hadn’t ever said it was supposed to be me, she reasoned. Maybe only she thought he meant that. Maybe the fierce girl had nothing to do with her.
“I’d need to know more about her.”
“Like what?”
“Like who she really is.” He turned to go then stopped. “What’s our super hero hiding behind her mask?”
“No one knows quite who she is or what her mission may be.” Emma ran her fingernail along the edge of the mask. “A dual identity, perhaps.”
“So she has secrets?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“I’d need a list of her secrets.” Jackson pushed open the library’s double glass doors. “You know, to really understand her character. To write the right dialogue.”
“She may not share her secrets with mere mortals.”
“That would be a problem. I’d have to make things up.” He grinned. “I might make up some really strange things for our girl.”
“I could live with that,” Emma said.
Any fictions he could create would never compete with her truths.
CHAPTER 5
THE FACE-OFF
S itting at Marjorie’s desk was torture. Pure torture.
Emma’s whole body twitched, eager to get back to her studio and begin cutting patterns and draping her collection. She desperately needed to get her ideas out of her head and out of her sketchbook and onto Her Girls. Then she could see if she had anything with true potential. Once she had draped and pinned fabric onto the dress forms, Her Girls would let her know.
But the phone would not stop ringing. And Marjorie was doing a Houdini-disappearing act.
“Noah!” Emma called down the hall. Her dad insisted she use his first name when she worked the Laceland receptionist desk. “TableDesign on line three. Something about creases in the new series of tablecloths.”
Noah Rose stood by the entrance to the small kitchen alcove. “I was just going to heat up one of those toaster strudels.”
“Dad…” Emma warned. “Mom will have a fit.” Her mom had recently imposed a strict only-organic, all-natural rule in their apartment. She was proud of and quite surprised that her husband went along with it. But Emma knew the truth. It was easy for him to be healthy for several hours at home when the majority of the day he had boxes of Oreos at the ready. Her mom had no idea how much processed junk food was stored in the little gray cupboards at Laceland.
He paused, considering. “Oh, put them through. I guess it’s a
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