Chapter 4

Mrs. Johnson smiled; holding open the glass door for the tiny me who felt a little bigger today, “What can I do for you today, Emma?”

“Hi, Mrs. Johnson,” I smiled back, “You don't happen to have any lambskin on you, do you?”

“Lambskin.” She looked strangely at me; what new material was I asking for this time? “Whatever for?”

“Shoes,” I saw her eyebrows lift, “Or a purse.”

“I'm sorry, Emma, I don't have any on me,” She lifted her old-fashioned glasses back on her nose bridge, “But it is very delicate, don't you know that?”

I nodded, “I did a little research.”

“What is in your mind right now?” She sat at the corner of the wooden table.

“Electric blue soft leather for the outside and red lambskin for the inside.” I recalled the idea from Anne.

“Not a very wise decision, Emma,” She answered, “Lambskin is quite pricey. Making it red would make it even more unaffordable. Why don't you make the lining red instead?” She hinted at the sketchbook that had my arms wrapped over, “Let's see what you came up with already.”

I flipped past the pages of the sketchbook as I shifted further to the left from blocking the way, my black sling bag shaped like a deep mini bowl.

She pulled out a pencil and some colored stencils, drawing an identical shape of the ballerina flats. The color blue was matched but instead of a darker blue lining, she made it hot red. As for a little decoration for the front, a red ribbon. Then she presented it to me. But I thought it could use a little something more.

So I added, in a new diagram, a plush ribbon, suede maybe, with either blue and red polka dots or stripes. Now it did look perfect. A little flash of metal with my initials was her addition.

“To make it yours truly.” She made an arrow and wrote the text for the metal; engraving it as, “Emma.”

“But you have to learn first, Emma,” She said, “How to make a shoe.”

“Do you know how to, Mrs. Johnson?”

She shook her head, “But there are two options to getting it done.” I leaned in as if her advice was pure gold, “You can work with a cobbler, tell him exactly how you want it.”

“Like custom-made shoes?”

“Exactly,” She smiled, “Or...you simply do it yourself.”

“But...don't I need...”

“Of course, you must practice everyday, and getting the materials is not easy,” Mrs. Johnson returned the book, “But then you'll be able to see things from an entirely different light. Not only will you be able to make the appropriate adjustments, it helps your reputation as a designer.”

“But...don't designers just design?”

Mrs. Johnson looked shocked, “There's a little more hard work than that, Emma. And even if you fail, remember Thomas Edison.”

“Didn't he make the lightbulb?”

“He failed 999 times. But finally made it on the 1000^th time.”

“So I should never give up, huh?” I grinned, “Alright, have you any spare materials today?”

I usually picked up scraps from Mrs. Johnson's store, sometimes turning them into little accessories if they aren't much. Bigger left-overs were made into dresses and skirts, which after completion, was turned over to Mrs. Johnson for inspection. Quality of the hems was under tight inspection and harsh criticism, but there was no doubt each one turned out better than the rest because of her words.

“Have you already forgotten these?” She brought out an ealier design I had whipped up; a black sequinned top and a brown boat-neck dress with a low back design, “The threads are lying idly by, Emma, or have you already forgotten how to tidy it up?”

She went on, “You could have done a little better than this, Emma, I mean the design is a little normal,”

“But the sequins are different than the usual. Look, I even made the short bubbly effect for the dress.”

“Yes well, go home, do the necessary adjustments...and make sure you got the opening of the sleeves adjusted...it's all too wide.” She pushed it into a bag and handed it over. Then she walked away for a few minutes before coming back with some stray materials.

“See what you can do with the crete material, Emma,” She said, “A nice long beachwear cover or formal wear...”

“Alright, Mrs. Johnson. Thanks, Mrs. Johnson.” I grinned back at her as I walked away to leave the store. A few minutes later and I was home, picking up and examining the scraps when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

"Hey, how's it going?"

“Tobey?” I was surprised to hear him; he never usually called unless it was important.

“Uh-huh...”

“What do you want, Tobey?” He hadn't said a thing causing a good short awkward moment.

“Well...I just called to ask you something...what you think about someone...”

Ugh. “Laura?”

“Yeah...what do you think of her?” Tobey asked, though I knew no matter what I said wouldn't make a difference, “I mean, does she seem nice or...”

“I don't know Laura very well, Tobey,” I reminded him.

“But didn't you guys talk back at the library?”

“For a short while!” I exclaimed, “Besides, you know her history.”

“What history?” He acted as if he never knew.

“She's dated so many guys before you, Tobey.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so?” I replied, “So, you're just going to be another number, nothing that really matters to you.”

“Don't say that.”

“You asked me what I thought of her.”

“Alright fine, if you're right...”

“I know I'm right, Tobey.”

“But I really like her, Emma.” He wailed; I hate it when he wails like that.

“Look, I'm not going to give you advice if you're not going to take it,” I almost hung up on him, “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait!” He called out, “You really don't like her?”

“I don't trust her, Tobey, now stop annoying me, I've got things to do too, you know,”

He sighed and hung up the phone, leaving me to return to working on my little project to become just the greatest designer of all time. I imagined myself; my name in lights or in magazine next to a tall and skinny model wearing my latest design as we pose for the final walk down the runway once it is all over. My entire year after that would be hectic; orders coming in from around the world who has heard the buzz about my fashion show in New York or Milan or Cannes. Week after week I'd inspect the line of production; both hand made and factory made and materials of the utmost quality.

But in a sleepy and old-fashioned town such as mine, it was difficult thinking about such things. Almost nobody left within a ten mile radius; they just seemed to be stuck here. I was midway thinking about such things when a needle had accidentally pricked my flesh; my own absent-mindedness of not watching where the needle went.

A surge of deep scarlet arose like a tiny and most amusingly neat bubble; shaking and moving out of place causing smears when messed with. I stared at the bubble; my heart sinking deep about my dream. It seemed so far away, so difficult. Added to that, my seams weren't all that perfect, either. Loose strands always stuck out like a sore thumb, and there was no way I could hide it. Finally cleaning and dressing the little wound from further bleeding on my cloth, I fought the pain of not being able to be just the designer/seamstress I wanted to be.

Parsons, The New School For Design, that's where I'm headed. A school with a history, I would be sure to make it out there in New York. But I'd be leaving home and this little town if I do, and there was no way my parents would approve. It would be too far, away from them; away from morals and humanity. They would, of course, have so much experience; enough to talk about New York and it's dazzling, beautiful but distracting lights and attractions.

“Alright everyone, this way...and please, behave yourselves,” Mr. Thompson gritted his teeth as he followed the guide down the big hall at The Science Museum. But the agitated feeling in his heart could hardly last long, as he viewed briefly the many wonders present in the next room. We could all tell, by his wide gape, his stunned face and the way he stood still in awe of the room. Laughing discreetly about the nerd he is as we passed him by, we then took to exploring the little gadgets and lights there.

“You'd think they'll they send us somewhere a little older for our age.” I heard some boy whisper to his friend.

“What a waste of time.” Anne joined arms with me as we walked around the room watching as the other kids entertained themselves.

I sighed and let the time pass by in a doodle that I drew while somebody from the Science Museum gave a long lecture about the environment. In a srange monotoned voice, he explained how the universe works, adding to that, the 'wonders of civilization and technology'. Half sleeping and half dreaming, we all leaned forwards with our chins on our arms on the table; clearly bored and clearly not afraid to show it either. Nobody insisted for a question to be answered by the boring speaker, so we were allowed to walk around and explore.

“What's with the hair on the hat?” Dinah came over; shocking me as I had just fooled around with the crazy hat; like a bald cap with the hairs fitted in like Albert Einstein's messy do. I was dunking my head in the air while excitedly watching the funny movements of the hair(hopefully aritificial and not from some corpse) and was about to reach for the complete accessory; black round glasses.

“Oh hey Dinah,” I quickly took out the hat; embarassed that anyone had to see me like this; see I wasn't the kind to be open and comfortable with making a fool out of myself in front of everybody and laughing it off like it was meant to be that way, “Just messin' around, wanna try?”

“Oh no, no...no thank you,” She quickly walked away; grossed out by the looks of the stiff and wiry, gray and white hair sticking out.

I put the hat back; though it didn't exactly look like a hat. It was more like a jelly mantelpiece; exciting yet incredibly repulsive with its strands of tiny hair, dust and wool. I wondered for the second time why I had ever put that on my head in the first place.

“Notice anything interesting around here, Emma?” Anne suddenly appeared next to me as I was watching some planets move in orbit in some slides.

“Nope...” I looked around, “Should I?”

“Well besides the fact that some people aren't here.”

“Like?”

“Like Tobey.”

“He hates getting up on Saturday mornings.”

“And Laura.”

I turned to look at her in a grin as she linked her arm with mine and took a walk around the exhibition.

“Interesting.” I laughed, “How very interesting.”

Soon it was time to leave the exhibition. Mr. Thompson, in great excitedness over his love for science could not stop talking about the exhibition. He went on and on as we were walking out the door; thinking that somewhere out there, there were students willing to listen to his talk on the wonders of science he had seen in the museum. When he realized there was no reply to his short speech, he bid adieu and left us to go our respective ways.

“Well...it isn't that bad...” Mrs Johnson looked at every detail of my newest creation, “But good job anyway. However, hold on, let me take a closer look...”

I looked around the working room; the back room that no one else but Mrs Johnson goes to do her work. I used to wonder where her husband would be since she was called a Mrs Johnson, but I stopped soon after finding out from Mom that Mrs Johnson was a widow, her husband had died from a disease he had picked up during the war. She could never love another and so she kept the name Mrs Johnson, but I daren't ask her more questions that Mom couldn't answer.

Mrs Johnson, a little plump and a little motherly though she had no children. In my sleepy town, rumor has it that she couldn't give birth and that was the reason why her own sisters and brothers would never let her touch, come close to, or carry their own children. They found it bad omen for a women who couldn't give birth, to come close to babies and children. But Mom couldn't care less about such things; she was never into such hogwash, nor could she turn her back on the sweet old but cranky at times, Mrs Johnson.

Looking around at the spread of materials, scissors, mannequins to dress up and the huge working table; it all seemed ideal, to be able to work like that everyday for the rest of my life, and receving credit on the magazines, the television and when celebrities or high profiled people wear my designs. Special orders would be coming in and I'd visit every country shaking hands with the people there; maybe for charity, maybe for publicity. The picure of us shaking hands would cover a two page spread in the newspaper by the publishing industry, perhaps governed by Anne, who wished to become a successful journalist and writer, and finally, an editor.

Speaking about newspapers, I walked over to the corner on the right, a newspaper catching my attention at the corner of my eye from its huge, puzzling and descriptive pictures.

“Are you sure you want to read that, Emma?” Mrs Johnson's words sent chills down my spine.

“What's wrong?” I turned around, shaking almost from the curiousity and fear.

“It's pictures about what happened to people affected by the recent economic fall,” Mrs Johnson never looked up, “But go ahead and read it if you want...but it will be heart-breaking.”

Her warning was clear and precise, but I went ahead anyway, having had a previous conversation with the stuck-up Renee about the topic. My hands were shaking for what I was about to have a clearer view of. Already from far and I could see an area of red; a pool of red specificly that reminded me of my cut a few days ago from correcting the seams of my little project.

The headlines read, “Economic Disaster Leading to Destruction of Resources, Sanity and Perhaps, Humanity”. With that, many pictures depicting people who had hung themselves, jumped off a building or simply had overdoses of illegally prescripted drugs. I read the brief stories shown as caption below those pictures that surrounded a huge enlarged picture of a man with his face on the ground with his crying companions trying to hold on to the last remnants of him but the cops would not allow it. They were in dire state and the cops took it upon themselves to having the responsibility of keeping them in their sane mind to avoid something messy from happening.

“Terrible fall of stocks on Wall Street,” I heard Mrs Johnson say, “Poor people, everythings just went downhill.”

I couldn't read any longer of the huge paragraphs depicting the scenario so I closed and pushed the newspaper back into it's previous state. Then I walked back to where Mrs Johnson stood and watched as she made the necessary adjustments and measurements. I wondered how this fall would affect everyone here since New York seemed more like a myth of a legendary city rather than the island that is still in the midst of its hustling, bustling, and consuming even the sweetest of minds.

“Run along now,” Mrs Johnson returned my piece, “Won't you be late for school?”

“There isn't school on Sunday, Mrs Johnson,” I laughed and walked out with my creation in hand.

I walked down the street, taking in the odd yet familiar view of the town. There I was, so in love with the peacefulness, I could never leave this town. Here I was, so attached to the place, loving each and everything about it. I felt like I was on top of the world, although it felt like something was missing. I love it here; but there really was something missing about the place. I couldn't figure out why, but there was an empty slot like nothing has been close to completion. Or maybe I just think too much. Tobey said it once; “You think too much, Emma. Don't ever overthink. Once you do, your world starts to get more confusing.”

On Monday morning, in perfect coincidence, he said, “Have I told you, you think too much, Emma?”

Mr. Thompson had put me on the committee for the class party this Friday. Along with Dinah and a few others, we had to put up the best class party ever, and put to shame the other classes. There was a catch however; every decoration had to eco-friendly. A weird contest to encourage going green, if you ask me. But the prize was good; a day at Cadbury's, a chocolate factory in the next state, complete with free samples and the opportunity to stare at streams of glossy chocolate; much like the one in the movie, 'Charlie and The Chocolate Factory'. But that wasn't all; the winning class gets to miss 3 days at school. Who'd turn down the holiday?

You wouldn't believe how even more excited everyone was to have 3 days off. The chatters and the beaming faces of the entire student body were more than when the principal had announced the field trip. Immediately we went back to homeroom, determined in our hearts to make sure the party had plenty eco-friendly posters and decors.

“I'm thinking newspaper shaped origami...trees, animals, patterns...” Jamie started; eager to begin the meeting to plan the perfect party.

“Recycled shirts!”

“What?” Everyone else stared at Tobey, who wasn't even supposed to be in this meeting.

“This is a meeting for the party councils only, Tobey,” Jamie stared at him, “What are you doing here?”

“Just seeing if you guys needed my help?”

Jamie was not convinced; she wanted the meeting to be exclusive. Tobey was our classmate but Jamie still wanted everything to be perfect. To her, he was a distraction.

“Alright, fine, I was bored so I thought I'd sit in.” he shrugged.

Jamie still stared at him, expecting him to leave.

“Please?” He smiled sheepishly.

“Fine,” She gritted her teeth, “But be quiet. Now everyone...”

Jake ignored Jamie, “Tobey, what do you mean by recycled shirts?”

“Permission to speak?” Everyone else laughed as Tobey sheepishly asked Jamie, to which she nodded.

“I don't literally mean recycled shirts. I was thinking if we could get some old shirt or something and tie-dye it green...”

“What?” Everyone stared at him.

“You know, to encourage going green. We don't all have to be in the same shade of green; we just have to wear something green.” He continued and seeing that everyone was still pondering the question, “Then we could get Emma to make it more interesting.”

“What?” I whacked him as hard as I could, “Tobey, what are you doing?”

“Come on, think about it,” Tobey ignored me completely, “She can do it, make it more fashionable or something. We could even write some cool messages on the shirts or add something to it.”

“Write that down,” Jamie ordered Jake to get a piece of paper and write down all the ideas that came from everyone in the room.

“Sorry about that,” Tobey avoided looking me in the eyes once the meeting ended, “That suddenly came into my mind,”

“Tobey, you know I can't do this, I'm just an amateur, I don't know anything about design.” I pleaded for an outside source to help instead.

“Look, just give it a try.” He quickly walked away.

After school that day, I sat with my sketchbook in hand ready to make a few drafts for when the tie-dyed shirts would be coming in. Pencil in hand, head in distress and heart pumping because of the fear to be less than expected, I wasn't thrilled to have someone interrupt me at such a time as this. But the knock on the door was beyond bearable, and I was forced to allow Dave in.

“Mom and Dad wants to talk to us.”

“Can it wait?” I looked back at the sketchbook on the desk, “I mean I really have to...”

“No, they mean now,” Dave looked awfully serious.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A large thump on the trunk and she was ready to go. Swatting her hands against each other to get rid of the dust on her hands, she smiled as she looked at the house she'd been staying at for days. Sighing like it was the last time to ever see this place, she then turned around to face the family, grinning and cheerful although her voice was shaky.

She gave bear hugs to Dave and I, a kiss on the cheek and the pat on the head for Mom and a handshake of thanks to Dad. Having given us little parting gifts, she insisted we open them only after she had left. Then she climbed into her old car, jumping on the old seat and breathing in deeply the dust that flew up. She claimed they were the smells she had missed for a very long time. Then she started the car and drove off, almost in ignorance of our repeated waves as she did so.

“I wish she could have stayed longer,” Mom remarked as she walked in line with Dad.

Dave and I looked at each other; no grin, no laughter, no smirk, no makings of a face, no sad look. It was without expression; both of us tired of laughing and mocking about the same subject. We went back to our rooms and went on, resuming our usual lives without Aunt Jan. And such difference it made! To be so united whenever she was around but the rules were loosened when she wasn't. I was in my room having the last look at the History project just before the presentation today when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” I answered without looking up, “It isn't locked.”

“What are you doing?” I saw Dave sit down on the floor in front of me.

“History project.” I answered, “Why aren't you doing anything?”

“Anything?”

“Homework, projects...”

“I don't have any.” He answered plainly.

“So what are you doing here in my room?” I pulled out a pink Magic Marker from my bag and began outlining the borders, “Don't you always have something else better to do?”

“Not really,” He replied sheepishly, “I ran out of comic books to read.”

I smiled, “I can give you some more money if you want more.”

“Nope,” I looked up when he had said that, “I have the money alright, just a little bored.”

I continued my work, happy I had some companion around, even if it was my freshman brother; a little chubby and a little awkward at times when we went out to the mall. We were so close, sometimes fighting but sometimes loving each other to bits. I found him to be the greatest friend I had ever need instead of the other people I call my best friends. No offence to Anne, but family is probably the only you ever need sometimes.

“Did you join any clubs in school?” I asked.

“No,” He sounded sad, “Nothing interests me.”

“Don't you love football?”

“Everybody says the coach is very strict.”

“So I heard...but she is good,”

“I know.”

There was a long peaceful silence before he spoke up again, “What song is this?”

“Isn't it just so sweet?”

He shook his head, “Sounds cheesy.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and resumed my work, “What are you doing here?”

“I'm a little bored, sis,” He answered, “I figured I'd just hang out with you for a while.”

He picked up a random storybook from the shelves and sat down to read, “Sis?”

“Hmm?” Outlining large circles was no easy task.

“Why is Mom so fond of Aunt Jan?”

Good question. “Aunt Jan took care of her when she was younger.”

“But why is Mom so obsessive about Aunt Jan?” Dave asked, “It gets pretty annoying at times.”

“Kinda,” I agreed, “But Aunt Jan is old after all, she needs someone to take care of her.”

“She seems fine to me.”

“That's because she doesn't tell us if anything went wrong.” I explained, “She doesn't want to worry us so much. She's got a weak leg, that's what Mom said.”

“But she looked fine and strong when she slammed the trunk and climbed into the car,”

“She had some medications this morning at breakfast, didn't you see her popping them into her mouth?”

“She did?” Dave tried to remember.

“Anyways, that'd be the last we'll see of Aunt Jan,” Dave looked up at the mention of my words, “Well, for now.”

I yawned, “Alright, time for school.”

“I hate school.”

“I thought you liked school.”

“Not when everybody there already has someone to talk to.”

“So you come up and talk to them then.”

Dave looked strange at me, as if I said something just so weird.

“Join a club, you'll meet some people there,” I climbed out of bed and started packing for school, “Look, we gotta leave now. Are you ready?”

Dave nodded and retreated back to his room. He came down the stairs and joined me, having some breakfast and leaving to walk together to school; we always did that together. It was probably the only time we ever got to talk seriously. Today just didn't seem to be that day though.

“What are you listening to?” I smirked; the loud static screamings and guitar were blasting way past the capacity of his bright orange headphones.

He pulled one side of the headphones away from his ears and asked for a repeat.

“I said, what are you listening to?” I repeated myself, “It's so loud.”

“Best way to listen to music, sis,” He grinned, “You should try it sometime.”

“And wreck my ears?” I smiled, “No, thanks.”

But he didn't hear anymore of that; he already had the headphones locked in place. One hand deep inside the pocket of the thin jacket I wore to wear off the mild morning chill and another hand to pull gently on a stray backpack strap, I walked with my brother, trying to enjoy the morning without feeling all so sleepy at the same time.

“School magazine?” The boy in front gave a sheepish smile and offered the glossy booklet. On the front page was a feature on the latest in gadgets, news and the must-haves.

I sighed; I knew he had been standing there the whole morning, poor freshie, “Is it any good?”

He nodded furiously; eager for me to buy one, “We've got all sorts of news and great things in them.”

I stared at him, thinking for a minute. Since there wasn't anything much to do during our substitute gym class, I thought I'd get one just to pass the time by, “How much is it again?”

“5 dollars,” he said innocently, handing me the magazine.

Then he took the money from my hands and mentioned a polite thank you before sprinting off to other potential students (customers).

“Hey Emma,” The girl behind me suddenly called out, “Can I see that for awhile?”

I turned to hand over the magazine to Renee as she and her friends had a look at it. They talked about it awhile, pondering over something while I waited impatiently for them to finish. She and the rest of the other girls with her belonged in a different group, a different clique from me, Anne and Tobey. They were a mix of girls who had known each other for long and never could take lightly about a newcomer in their group, not that I'd ever tried to join them though, but I'd heard stories.

So imagine my surprise when she suddenly spoke to me. I knew the last person she'd ever want to talk to was me, having always looked down on people with no relatively excellent academic results. I kept my distance, no doubt of that, I didn't need people like her bringing me down all the time with her sleazy mean looks.

She brought it back, “Thanks.” I hid my disgust from her.

“What were you guys reading about?” I asked her before she turned away to avoid any further questions from me.

“Page 57,” She answered, “The news.”

“The news?” My eyebrows furrowed for more explanation.

She rubbed her nose slightly to rid herself the boredom, “You haven't till there, haven't you?”

I shook my head.

“The fall of the stocks down at Wall Street.” She answered, “Another case of everybody loses something.”

I was about to argue back about the statement but thought better. So I nodded my head as she immediately turned around to continue talking to her friends; it was clear I wasn't welcome to ask anymore questions. So I turned to page 57 and decided to read up on the subject itself since we had a free period for gym to spend at the cafeteria.

“What's that?” Anne came back with some drinks.

“Something about a Wall Street crash...” I mumbled, reading past the facts.

She hovered by before finally giving up and had me turn to the Gossips column.

“Oh...” She giggled as she read further the magazine I pushed to her, “They broke up.”

I looked over as I drank a sip of the Coke, “And you're happy because?”

“Not that I'm happy, Emma,” She smiled, “I knew it a long time ago, they just weren't going to work.”

“That's a mean thing to say,” I smiled, “But, true.”

A short pause ensued before she spoke up again, “How'd the presentation go?”

I removed my lips from over the straw and grinned, “I have just the story to tell you!”

She slammed the magazine with rapt attention when I began, “So Laura came in just when we were about to start...”

“No!”

“Yup,” I sighed, “And asked pretty, pretty, please if she could assist Tobey in the History project.”

Anne laughed at my face expression.

“And our History teacher said, I don't remember Tobey being alone for the project,” I paused for a dramatic effect as Anne uttered another 'No!'

“And then she quickly mentioned my name.” I smiled, “And pleaded and pleaded until the teacher allowed her to.”

“What did she do?”

“She held up the signs and posters for us.” I beamed at the smart answer.

We both burst out laughing, much to the dirty looks the other girls were giving us.

“Now everybody here thinks we're laughing at them.” Anne said in a low voice as she scanned the room.

I looked on as well, “Unless they are that selfish to think we'd ever laugh about them.”

Anne giggled, “What's their problem?”

“Are you coming this Saturday, for the field trip?”

She nodded, “Ugh, there are so many things one can do on a Saturday morning.”

“Like sleeping late?” I grinned.

“Absolutely yes.” Anne continued to scout the magazine for more unread details, “But yeah...there's nothing else better anyway.”

I let the silence flow as I watched a group of seniors walk in; a whole gang of them. I looked at them and back at me. Would I ever be like them?

“Wouldn't it be cool if we were seniors now?” I asked, “We'd rule high school.”

Anne simpy made a noise of acknowledgement and ignored my statement as she read the magazine. So I continued to stare at the group as they went along with their loud noises and laughter, wishing I, too was one of them. I closed my eyes for a minute and imagined my life as a senior in the local high school.

Little did I know, I would be going down a different path. I wouldn't like it, but it just had to happen. Adventures were never my cup of tea. Matter of fact, I'd avoid it as far as possible. The fall on Wall Street affected everybody. Some to even greater extremes of which, until I get there, prying my way past hidden secrets, cause newer revelations than the next.

Chapter 2

“So,” Aunt Jan in a grin, quickly walked up next to me and Anne, “Is this where you girls hang out after school? Just...'chillin'?”

Looking up, Anne and I was a little shocked to see Aunt Jan in front of us. What was she doing here at school anyway?

“Oh don't look so shocked, darlings,” She cooed, “I'm here to pick you girls up.”

Aunt Jan? Anne and I looked a litle unsure. But we took our stuff anyway, our headphones over our necks and our books and bags in haywire mode.

“Can I help you with your things, my dear?” She turned her head back while she led the way.

“Uh, no it's alright, Aunt Jan, we can handle it,” I answered for the both of us.

Aunt Jan pulled open the trunk to her car; an old fading shade of yellow masked the car. Silver outlined the lights and the little figurine at the edge of the car. It was an old Jaguar, Mom used to tell Dave and I that. It looked sort of vintage in a way, looking a little like the typical '70's car.

Shutting the trunk as if she had killed the car, she walked forward to the driver's seat saying, “Well come on in girls.”

I guess that statement was already called for anyway because Anne and I simply stood on the pavement, watching Aunt Jan and the car. Well, the car, mostly. It was as if the most horrid thing we'd ever seen; the door handles were tainted and rusty, and the windows looked as if it had never been washed in decades. It felt almost predictable just looking at it. The seats looked brown and fluffy and soft; just the kind that would let dust bunnies settle on it. And the shade of the yellow itself, with the constant stains of wet rain on every surface, reeked of the need for washing.

A small agreement was made between Anne and I to see who would go in first. But I went in finally when I noticed Aunt Jan just about to notice us squabbling over coming in to the car; there was no way I wanted to hurt Aunt Jan's feelings. Mom was pretty fierce about that; since Aunt Jan was her eldest sister, and, along with 2 other siblings, had always taken care of Mom even when the rest of the other siblings were too busy (back then they were a pretty big family). Mom simply wanted to repay the kindness; and since Aunt Jan was single and aging nearly 75, Mom was sure Aunt Jan would need some help in some form of way. She even tried to persuade Aunt Jan to live with us, but Aunt Jan was firm in staying where she was.

“Nothing like home, May,” She always said when Mom tried to persuade.

It was pretty funny to hear everyone of Mom's siblings. They were all named from all months of the year. But when the 13^th (the youngest and 5 years Mom's junior) was born, our grandfather had run out of names and was forced to give a name after his; Edgar Whit with the added, 'The Second'. So every time Aunt Jan and Mom met, they always laughed about Edgar. They claimed Uncle Edgar was always so clumsy. It made no change to what I thought about him; Dave and I thought him to be the most loving uncle, the best actually, who never seemed to tire of us.

Landing hard and fast on the seats wasn't a very wise thing to do; dust bunnies, as expected, arose almost immediately to fill our noses. Sneezing and coughing as we both dragged ourselves in to the car, Aunt Jan took no notice of that except to have us put on the seatbelts.

An instant urge to rebel and claim that Dad never ever forced us to put them on, was rising but I kept my mouth shut anyway as Aunt Jan looked on at us as we strapped the seatbelts on; she wouldn't drive until we were finished.

“Another project tonight, girls?” A high pitched voice creaked sharply into our ears.

“Uh yeah, Aunt Jan...we haven't quite finished it yet.” I answered, pinching my nose from inhaling the flying dusts.

A cold awkward silence took place and the ride home was far from comfortable; Aunt Jan hit the brakes every second she could. Time to time we'd all be thrown forward because she hit the brakes at full strength. When we finally reached home, Aunt Jan had Anne and I out of the car before she pulled over at the garage. Dizzy and holding our heads with our fingers, massaging to cure the headaches, we headed upstairs to my room to lie down for a while and take a moment to take a breather.

“How did she get her license?” Anne asked, not expecting any reply.

I groaned and pulled myself up, “Come on, we still have a lot to do before working on the History project again.”

“You mean YOUR History project...”She too scrambled to get up, “How did I drag myself into helping you anyway?”

I didn't answer her as I pulled every book from my bag pack.

“I wonder if Laura's coming later.” She reached for her bag.

“Is she?”

“Well, he brought her yesterday...there's no telling she wouldn't turn up today.”

I rolled my eyes, “Since when did he bring girls to project nights anyway?”

“I'm thinking...” Anne pretended to think real hard, “Since he actually has a girl to bring, maybe?”

I laughed, “Nice one.” I was about to go on when my notebook slipped out; the one I usually used when doodling for my next fashion idea.”

Anne immediately grabbed it and flipped through the pages,hoping for something new, “Please tell me you have some new creation...”

I didn't answer her. Instead I smiled as I sat on the chair and did my homework on the bed as a table.

“It's not that easy, you know.” I said,

“But your designs sure are incredible.” Anne replied.

“Thanks.”

“Ooh...” Anne showed me a page; the sketches of a long purple bare back dress with long sleeves and drapelike features in the front with diamond encrusted on each side of the shoulders, as if stapling the two sides of front and back together.

“I like this one.” She grinned, “What material are...” She turned to the next page and in midway sentence a swatch rolled open from being glued to the page, “This feels soft. How much did you get this swatch for? The last swatch you had for the green strapless dress cost a bundle.”

I shook my head, “Mrs. Johnson gave it to me for free...said they were extras from a new shirt she's been working on for a new client,” I stroked the swatch (which was soft and silky), “Pretty cool, right?”

Mrs. Johnson was the neighbourhood seamstress. She has the most extensive array of materials and studs needed for the clothes she makes. It's pretty cool watching her do her job; she sometimes lets me in to the back of the store and even explain to me the details about each and every material. She'd tell me the horrors of using a machine wash on silk, or the effects of water on suede and the pretty shine any leather shoes or wallet make when polished with a clean cloth. Cotton was always the preferred material but these days, variety was popular because people always wanted to be the 'belle of the ball'.

“I'll say.” Anne looked adoringly at the swatch, “What story did she tell you the last time you were there?”

“Something about Oscar de la Renta, I think,” I tried to recall as I looked back on my homework, “It was so long ago...there was something she said about being strong and bold...then there's her advice, that its smarter to learn from others mistakes than to make the same mistake...” I drew a line for a graph I supposed to sketch, “She was pretty upset about a wrong delivery when I went there.”

Anne chuckled, “Pretty exciting just talking to her, huh?” Not expecting any reply, “When did you draw this anyway? Why didn't you tell me about this yesterday when I asked you?”

“I guess it just didn't occur in my mind.” I looked up, “It's not memorable, anyway.”

“I don't see them here.” Anne flipped past every page of the sketchbook, “Wait, I see tear marks here. Emma, did you throw them away?”

“Yeah...yeah I remember now, I tossed it all out.”

Anne didn't reply after that. She put the sketchbook aside as she sat on the bed and got started on the homework. We did our homework in complete silence. But that didn't last long. Before too long, I played some songs from our favorite band as we continued finishing our homework.

“Isn't that Tobey?” Dave asked. Anne and I had planned to meet up with Tobey to finish the History project in the library when Dave asked to come along and walk with us; he had new assignments that needed him to do some research.

Anne and I turned to look at where Dave pointed at. There was Tobey, with Laura at the parking spot for bikes. Laura, with her fingers curled behind her and Tobey climbing out of the bike, were talking and laughing as they headed for the steps to the library. As Dave parted ways from Anne and I, we went along to the same spot.

“I'll come along with you.” Laura suddenly sat up to follow Tobey, who, 20 minutes into the silence of nothing else but work, volunteered for some research work which he claimed essential to the project.

Anne noticed me watching as they left, “You don't really like her, do you?”

“Well...” I thought for a minute and grinned, “Yes.”

I sat down to watch her scribble the title for the project, “Anne...” I asked, “Have you ever felt what its like to fall in love?”

“To have someone love you back?” Her eyebrows furrowed; I figured she thought it weird for me to bring it up out of the blue. But that didn't keep her from carefully making details to the big fonts.

“Sort of,” I mumbled as I fiddled with a magic marker in front of me.

“Well, it's not that exciting,” She raised and eyebrow motioned to Tobey and Laura who just about on their way back; talking and giggling for all to hear, “There's more to love than just romance.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how it is, don't you?” Anne sat up straight, “When you're with someone for a really long time, romance doesn't last for long. All too soon, you'll love that person in a much deeper way. And its more worth it that way. But most people don't understand this part, or rather, they don't want to.”

I stared at her, “You're right...sort of.”

“Seems pretty dumb to me actually, to waste my time for some 3^rd rate guy now, when...”

“You could get a better one later on.” I grinned; completing her sentence. I knew her all too well.

She grinned and went back to work, “Sounds harsh, but they are facts after all.”

I smiled; laying my head comfortably on the table as Anne remarked just before Tobey and Laura came close, “Our friends wasting his time, Emma. I'd warn him...but would he listen?”

“NO!” We sang in unison. The sudden, steady entrance of Tobey and Laura was enough to tell all; they were officially a couple. And there was nothing Anne and I could do to warn our friend Tobey.

“What's going on?” Tobey couldn't stop the silly grin from forming on his face. The naïve little boy suddenly gained newfound confidence and eagerness to speak even more.

“Dear Tobey, dear, dear, Tobey,” Anne mocked him in pretense sadness. Then we both burst into laughter.

A small (almost unnoticable) dirty look from Laura (did she know we were talking about her?) caught our gaze and we stopped short from laughing any further.

“I've finished the title, Tobey,” Anne quickly changed the topic, “Here take a look.”

“That's real pretty, Anne,” Tobey admired the art. Then he called Laura: “Come take a look at this. Anne's the best when it comes to stuff like that.”

Anne grinned at me secretly as Laura came forward. She took a long look and agreed, though she didn't look particularly happy at the moment. I guess it has something to do with us bursting into laughter and not sharing the joke with her was probably the cause of suspicion that we were talking about her.

“Alright, how about this...soft electric blue leather for the outer lining and apricot lambskin for the inside?” Anne suddenly popped a question as we were walking back, “And studs on the tip?”

“Whats that for?” The question certainly was so unexpected but her description was enough for me to visualize and salivate over; pumps or flats, they sure sound pretty to wear.

“For fun, really,” Anne grinned, “I figured maybe you could make something out of it.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know...an outfit to match or a dress based on the idea?

“Apricot lambskin...” I mumbled.

“Sounds pretty nice, doesn't it?” Anne smiled at the thought of wearing them on her own feet, “Apricot colors are sweet.”

I didn't answer; I was thinking about other colors besides apricot. Sure they were pretty, but is that it?

“What if they were red lambskins on the inside; a sort of maroon colored lambskin?” My eyes lit up; I could see it now, “And purple satin or as you said, soft leather for the outer lining.”

Anne's face changed form to a face trying to figure or imagine just how the colors would work. But I guessed we didn't have the same thoughts on the right type of shade because she didn't seem to like the idea. She said with a face, “Sounds a bit wild, Emma.”

“You just need the right sort of shade and it could work,” I grinned; happy at the evolved state of the idea that branched from being just the normal blue flats, “I'll prove it to you.”

“A new sketch?”

“There just might be.” I smiled; I love making new sketches, even if they seem similar in a way, “Think about it; red or purple trenchcoat with vintage syle purple and red buttons and a plain colored waistbelt, most likely red. Pair it with a straight-cut black denim. Scarves are tricky so its best to leave them out for a while. Headbands should work out just fine, I should think, with the same matching pattern from the buttons...”

“A clutch or a bag?” Anne grinned.

“A clutch, or maybe a bag...A hot red oversized clutch should work out just fine...and earrings, definitely purple and plastic, shaped just like a round lantern.”

Anne laughed, “I love it when you get into that mode of yours.”

“What mode?” I unlocked the door and stepped in.

Grabbing her things at the side of the door just before she left, “That mode of yours when you talk about clothes and shoes and fashion...Anyways, promise me you'll show me the sketch once your done?”

I nodded and closed the door behind her; she was walking home tonight. Her house wasn't too far away, a few turns in the street and she'd already reach. Turning round to head for the stairs, I was stopped short when there right in front of me, was a plate of something yellow with a round blob of white on top of it. A plastic fork sat next to the yellow triangular shaped object.

“Have some pie, dear, your Aunt Jan made it.” Mom handed over the plate. But the yellow piece looked horrible; as if drenched with a water pipe before placing on a plate. Mom noticed my face, “Well go on and eat it. Don't hurt your Aunt Jan's feelings.”

I was halfway into stuffing the sweet yellow piece into my mouth when Mom asked where Dave was.

“Still at the library, I guess.”

“Emma,” Mom looked a little shocked, “You left him there?”

I quickly stuffed everything into my mouth and handed back the plate to her before she could start another lecture, “He's a big boy, Mom, don't need me to always look out after him.”

“Doesn't matter if he's a big boy already, it's your responsibility to make sure he makes the right decisions.”

“Right decisions? Why are we talking about right decisions?” I stopped just before running up the stairs.

Mom shrugged, “Just in case...he's your brother, Emma.”

“I know.” I continued my way, mumbling, “You tell me that every day.”

It's true; she really does.

“Emma,” I heard Dinah's voice as I answered the phone in my room.

“Oh, hey Dinah.” I walked around my room, clearing the bed from piles of books and pencils, “What's up?”

“Are you coming this Saturday, for the field trip to the Science Museum?”

It took a few seconds before I finally understood just what she was talking about, “Yep, I'm going, definitely. It'd help us understand better for the exams right?”

“Yeah,” Dinah answered, “Mr Thompson said it would be 'preferable' that we go.”

“Big word.”

“Uh-huh,” Dinah laughed, “So are you coming?”

“Well...” Thinking I just might be alone, “Who else is coming?”

“Almost the whole class, actually.”

“Really?” I was a little surprised, and suddenly stopped short of turning on the speakers.

“Yup,” She answered, “I'm pretty surprised myself. I had no idea everyone else was so hard-working.”

“I guess I'm going then,” I went ahead to turn on the speakers.

“Great, I'll put your name down.”

“What time do we meet at school?”

“Actually we meet at The Science Museum at 10.” Dinah informed, “And yes, you have to get your transport there.”

I wondered how on earth would I get there; having no license and having two working parents with a tendency to leave for work way too early in the morning. “How far would it take to cycle there, by the way?”

“Cycle there?” Dinah seemed greatly amused to hear that, “You can't be serious, Emma. Cycle there. It must take like an hour or so.”

“Don't have much of a choice,” I sighed, “My dad and mum won't be able to fetch me.”

“That's too bad.” She had pity for me, “But you'll still come, won't you?”

“Guess so.” I mumbled, sticking the phone wedged in the middle between my ear and my shoulder as I searched over the pile of books for my little sketchbook to quickly chart down the idea Anne gave earlier.

“Great. So I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

A brief goodbye and I set to pull out a pencil and some pens to chart down a few ideas on my sketchbook. Here goes the sketch for the red or purple trenchcoat. Pretty odd and tricky color if you ask me; so I guess I'll just have to depend on the materials to do their magic. For the trenchcoat, canvas or patent should do the trick. Then there's the big oversized clutch; seems pretty cute the way the folds are shaped at the end. Aligator skin should be just perfect. I drew a few more sketch lines on it before finally forcing myself to stop playing around with it too long or else the damage would be irreversible.

I danced and pranced about the room to Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, unnoticed as I locked the door to my room to have a little privacy; no way anyone was going to see me dance. I did the scuba diving move and the Saturday Night Fever move, to the just plain wild and crazy move; my hands swinging in the air as my hips followed the movements of my legs which just couldn't stand still on the ground.

I stopped when there was a knock on my door. Panting and thoroughly exhausted at my unprofessional aerobic exercise, I opened the door.

“What are you doing?” Dave's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes narrowed at me.

I smiled, “What are you talking about?”

“I heard large thumps from my room. I figured it came from your room.” He held his gaze, “What ARE you doing?”

“I was dancing.”

Dave looked unconvinced.

“I WAS dancing!” I insisted.

He looked strangely at me, “Practicing for the audition for the cheerleading squad?”

“No, I'm dancing for no reason.” I grinned, “Wanna join me?”

Dave shook his head vigorously and headed back to his room. I turned back to mine and decided to resign from the aerobics when I saw the half open bag of Doritos peeping out from underneath the bed. I stared across the room as I sat relaxed and perfectly comfortable when my eyes caught sight of an old material Dad had supposedly bought for me to create 'something great' with it. It looked fantastically horrible and amazingly wretched to the core; almost defying anything sacred and beautiful in the fashion world. Still, I promised to work on it. It was a challenge, you see. Dad wanted to test me, or rather, push me beyond the limits of just being mediocre and a plain jane.

The cloth was in a funny, sort of disorientated shade of purple, with green, blue, yellow and red ribbons arrayed in perfect rows. It looked positively old; vintage almost. I'd often reminded myself to work on it sometime soon. It's been a few months now and the cloth laid barely untouched (since the last time I ever touched it was to get my notebook underneath).

I bit my lip, angry at myself for being so lazy to think about the rag. Rolled and perfectly stuck tight in the middle of some books and the fluffy surface of the chair, I stared at the cloth. Man, that was hideous. But a designer should be able to make the use of everything, aren't they? Weird, crazy, limitless, beautiful designs make an accomplished designer after all. I should dare to dream, dare to pull myself up from the bed, open up the cloth and begin brainstorming.

There were no prize money from Dad if I did it perfectly. In fact, he meant it as a personal challenge where I could see clearly if the path I chose was the right one for me. I scoffed when he had said that and handed over the roll; I was positive I could do anything with it. Now I wasn't so sure. Now I wonder why I took up the challenge in the first place. Was it because of ego? Was it because something in me just shouted YES, I CAN DO THIS? Was that a flame of passion burning in me?

Because if it is, it sure seemed short-lived. For a while I am riled up and geared for the never ending journey but in a few weeks, the energy dissolves and I am no longer interested. What is the makings of a true designer? Do I have what it takes? Or am I just confusing a hobby and dream job?

Chapter 1

“Hello sweetheart.” She dragged her words. Tainting a smile and a rush forward to give a hug, she made it seem as if we were her grandchildren. The high pitchy voice and the caring tone never ceased to annoy us.

“Hey...Aunt Jan.” Dave and I would slur our words as we pulled away from her hands that had creeped up to our cheeks and then given a nice tug.

She always had the intention of being friendly but in turn freaked me out instead. Every Christmas called for a sweater. Last year was burgundy with little white christmas trees and rudolph the red nosed reindeer next to it. Then the year before that was a blue wool sweater. It was pretty plain except that the back was this large logo that said Merry Christmas in a sort of Hard Rock Cafe style. She always came during Christmas for the traditional dinner over at our place in Connecticut. Sometimes she'd bring her famous lemon bars. Why it's famous when its all runny, I don't know.

Mom always talked about how we (my brother and I) should treat Aunt Jan in the most loving way possible. Mom said Aunt Jan never married and never really had someone to talk to. Way back in her town about 6 hours from where we were staying, Mom said that Aunt Jan loved going around the neighbourhood and just talking to people. She did that because there was never anybody at home to talk to. So that's why whenever she came over to our place, Mom always had us sitting or talking to Aunt Jan at almost every second possible just to keep her company.

“And how old are you now dear?” She always asked the same question everytime she saw us. And it gets old and boring sometimes.

My brother and I would simply mumble a word or two and then proceed to get her bags and place them at a spare room where Mom had already prepared a bed for Aunt Jan. Taking out the already expected presents, Dave and I simply smiled as we accepted the gift and then rush back to our rooms to put it down. Aunt Jan always smiled; she'd always had that high pitched whiny sound that we just couldn't stand when she talked to us as if we were kids.

“What color is it this time?” Dave, 2 years my junior, smirked when everyone left to their own rooms. He had come over for a while.

I grinned at him and pulled out the sweater from the bag.

“Orange, huh?” He turned to sit on the floor as he pulled out his gift, “She got me this.”

Holding a book and a blue sweater in hand, Dave was already laughing when he saw my face. Dave never reads, and neither does he wear Christmas sweaters unless Dad forces him to. Returning back to his own room after a good laugh, Dave left the book in my room for me to read as he chugged at the sweater and played with it as if a chew toy.

“Hey.”

Peering in and taking some books out of my locker before the school bell rang, I turned to look behind.

“Tobey?”

“Listen, about the history project...”

History project?

“I'm so sorry, I know I promised that we'd work on it together at the library later tonight, but...”

“But?” I was beginning to remember we had planned to head to the library and do some reading up before our presentation.

“I have plans tonight.” He said it plain and clear.

“Tobey you've been putting this off so many times now...when in the world can we start our project? Even the Morrison twins are almost finished.”

“I know, I know, but just this once, please?”

“Well what sort of plans Tobey? Do you want both of us to fail History?”

“No of course not!”

“Then what?”

“Laura Jenkins asked me out and you already know I've had a crush on her since always.”

“That's your alibi?” I stared at him in unbelief.

“I'm sorry, but...”

“You know what,” I declared, “I'm just gonna head on over to Mr Thompson and tell him I'm working solo.”

“No, no, don't do that...I can't possibly do it all by myself.”

“Then get an alibi Tobey, a good one,” I said before turning away, “Because either you come tonight or I'm cutting you loose.”

“Can you believe that guy?” I exclaimed to Anne as I sat down next to her, piling my books and sweater on the desk.

“What guy?” She was biting her nails.

“Ew, stop that Anne, that's just gross...”

“Ugh, I told you I'm trimming them.”

“Get your nails done somewhere then, quit biting your nails,” I pushed her hand away from her lips, “You'll make 'em ugly.”

“No, I won't.” She brought her hand up again.

“Yes, you will.”

“Alright, fine,” She brought down her hand, “What guy were you talking about anyway?”

“Tobey.”

“Uh-huh...He's a bit of a dimwit, I know...what did he do this time?”

“Some friend...”

“What did he do?” Anne was a bit impatient.

“He wanted to bail on me for the History project.”

“You mean he said he couldn't come again?” She looked as if she knew.

“How'd you know?”

“Oh I heard it in the girl's bathroom...apparently Laura Jenkins asked him out...I can't believe it either...”

I frowned, “The nerve of him.”

“No, not that,” Anne shook her head, “I mean that Laura would actually ask him out.”

I grinned at her, “That's a mean thing to say,”

“Thank you.” Anne grinned.

“Anyway I threatened that if he didn't make it tonight, I'm going to Mr Thompson and telling him I'm working solo on the project.”

“And that would leave Tobey helpless...and failing history class.”

“Yuck...you feel pity for him?”

Anne merely shrugged, “Hey that reminds me, I tried to call you last night.”

“Really?” I asked, “I don't remember any phone ringing. I guess Mom wanted Dave and I to keep Aunt Jan company. Maybe she pulled the plug.” Mom could be a little over the top sometimes.

“Your Aunt Jan came over?”

I nodded, “I got an orange sweater this time.”

We grinned at each other before bursting into laughter.

“You're a terrible neice, Emma,” Anne laughed, “What's wrong with her sweaters anyway? Their pretty cool in a sort of, vintage way.”

“You can't be serious,” I stared at her.

“Aw come on, their pretty nice...I mean, a little like what a pre-schooler would wear but...it's kinda cute,”

I grinned and laughed away as the teacher started her lesson.

“Well...you're right, this is the worst, so far.” Anne remarked, holding up the sweater later in my room after school.

Dave peeked in, “Hey Anne.”

“Hey Dave,” Anne turned to look at him, “What color did you get?”

“Blue...oh and just to warn you guys, Aunt Jan and Mom should be coming home just about now from the mall.”

“Why'd they go there for?” I asked, turning up the speakers to The Click Five.

Dave shrugged and walked back to his room as Anne pulled out her books from her bagpack.

“Time to work.” Anne remarked as she pulled out a pen and started on homework.

Looking back at the sweater, I wondered if I should tuck it way back in the closet or just drape it on for Aunt Jan to see when they get back, which took just a few more minutes before we heard the sound of the car pulling up and the door open followed by the sound of the footsteps on the wooden floor.

“Oh it's Anne!” Aunt Jan exclaimed as she pulled Anne's cheeks softly.

I watched as Anne huddled over as she sheepishly smiled and avoid screaming at Aunt Jan to stop.

“Oh,” Aunt Jan exclaimed again; this time more like Santa Clause, “You're wearing the sweater.” She came over to give me a hug and then left with Mom, claiming she was going to bake her famous lemon bars for the kids to enjoy, as usual.

Anne and I rolled our eyes at each other knowingly, and ran up the stairs to my room having falsely assured Aunt Jan just how excessively happy we were to have such a treat. We practiced our French, did manicures on our Chemistry books and took photos of each other in the sweater Aunt Jan had given. Time passed so quickly; we hadn't been studying, you see, and we just about to fall asleep in a nap when we heard Dad call us down for dinner.

“I have to go to the library later.” I remarked, before stuffing a spoonful of mash and beans into my mouth.

“What?” Mom was a bit shocked, “But your Aunt Jan is visiting. Why on earth do you have to rush off so soon?”

“History project,” I swallowed the mash, “It's pretty important. And besides, I already asked Dad.”

Anne nodded as Mom glared at Dad as he avoided being questioned.

“What sort of history project is it?” Aunt Jan spoke up, “Maybe I can help.”

“Well...” I doubted that but I explained it anyway, “About the World War 2. We're supposed to talk about the parties involved and the effects it has brought on mankind.” I rememebered the title of my project.

The sudden clash of metal and clay turned our attention to Aunt Jan; her spoon had somehow slipped and fell on the plate in front of her. But she quickly picked it up, apologized for her intrusion and reached for the mash. The cosy warm sound of dinner; with the clashing of metals and the big noises the clay bowls make when they are hit hard on the table was quickly interrupted by the sudden degree of sound that made everyone look at each other and wonder why on earth that had happened.

“A tragedy.” I heard Aunt Jan avoided eyes as she passed the mash to Mom after taking a few spoonfuls for herself, “But don't worry about me,” She smiled, instantly assuring everybody that she would be fine while I'm gone. “I'll be fine Emma, run along.”

“Still,” Mom wasn't convinced, “Couldn't you wait until another time? It is a bit rude don't you think, Emma? I mean what if you were visiting someone and they too didn't have the time to spend it with you?”

“But mom it's a school project, I have to get it done quick,” I pleaded my case, “And...since my partner bailed on me, I have to do the whole thing myself.”

“Who's your partner?” Dave asked.

“Tobey,” I answered.

“Yeah,” Anne explained, “He said he had a date tonight but we still aren't sure if he'll make it tonight for the project.”

“Oh, and you're on the same team, Anne?” Aunt Jan asked.

“Nope, I'm a different class so we have a different type of project.” Anne answered.

“She's helping me out abit.” I spoke up.

Dad chuckled, “So Tobey left you guys for a date?”

“Apparently.” I sighed, wondering how on earth was I ever going to get the project done.

“When do you girls plan on getting started?” Dad asked.

“Well...” Anne looked at her watch and then at me, “About now?”

I agreed to go then and nodded; taking leave of the table.

“That's so soon!”Mom looked up almost immediately, “And you hardly ate, Emma.”

“I had enough, Mom” I stood up with Anne to bring the plates to the kitchen and went right away to gather our bags and head for the door to walk to the library which was just a few blocks round the bend, “See you guys later.”

“You know I think I'm beginning to like her lemon bars.” Anne said when we started down the path.

“I can't stand them...how could you like them? It's all soft and squishy...”

“I don't know, they don't seem soft or squishy to me.”

I made no reply to that, but spoke up a while later, “Tobey has to come tonight...or else.”

Anne laughed, “Or else what? You're gonna beat him up? He's probably cruising around with Laura,”

“I didn't know she liked him.”

“I don't know...opposites attract maybe. But do you like her anyway?”

“I guess I'm alright. I don't hate her but I don't like her anyway. She's a bit...different.”

“Different? You mean weird?”

I laughed, “No, not that...I mean that she just has that vibe that's so hard to talk to her.”

“I get that, too, sometimes when I talk to her,” Anne said, “But after a while, she's okay, really.”

I shrugged as we continued down the bend.

“Have you worked on any sketches yet?”

I shook my head; I didn't really have the time to continue sketching new fashion designs.

“It's been months Emma, I wanna see new stuff.” Anne complained.

“I've been pretty busy lately. Besides, you always have something to say about my sketches.”

Anne stopped walking and grinned at me, “I do not.”

“Yes, you do.” I walked ahead anyway.

“I give you feedback...construct...const...constructive criticism...everybody needs that,” She linked her arm in with mine, “Besides, I'm the only who can say that because I'm your best friend.”

“Really?” I mocked her in a laugh.

“You're really mean, you know that, Emma,” She tugged at my arm to keep walking anyway, “And...you aren't so bad. I have to admit I'm kinda jealous of you.”

“Kinda?” I grinned.

“Don't push it, Emma.” She laughed and continued, “You actually know what you're doing, know what I mean? You know fabric, you know shapes, you know accessories...that kind of stuff. You even changed the dress I bought you for Christmas last year.”

I thought for a minute, suddenly feeling guilty for transforming the dress she had thought so long for. It was a pretty pastel color of blue; material that was a little coarse and was able to stretch in the neck line; it was semi-sleeved, with puffy endings and a pastel yellow ribbon at each side. The dress was pretty long; a supposed summer dress, intended for long use on grass or a blanket with it's own dish of creeping crawlies and earth.

“Oh that.”

“Yes that.” Anne pretended to be hurt, “In any case, I should've known buying you a dress was wrong. I should have gotten some buttons and some material, right?”

“Well...no, don't say that...I love the dress,” I remembered the way it looked on me; regular, “It's just...”

“Just?”

“You know already, don't you Anne? You know I can't sit still when I see something new, or...”

“In need of repair?” She grinned.

“Hey I love the dress,”

“But you just wanted something more special.” She concluded, “Something far more perfect?”

“I'm sorry.” I had to say it.

“Hey I'm not hurt. I gave it to you, it's not my business what you do with it. It's the thought that counts. And besides, I like what you did with it.”

I grinned; me too. I had completely turned the neckline into a boat neck shape, cut of the sleeves to make it sleeveless and sowed the ends inwardly. Then I cut the dress to about knee length and sowed them inwards as well. I removed the extra string of cloth provided to be used as belt, as well as the hook for where the cloth would have gone through. I pulled the threads inside tighter until I formed a cinch or rather, a pinch at the waste. A zipper on the inside and the dress looked completely stunning. Of course, it did help a little with a little more coarse material to make it look chic and expensive. Not to mention the fake jewels and shiny crystals to create a rough outline of the boatneck.

Needless to say I had spent a month on the dress, and a whole lot on my allowance. I've tried it a million times in my room, staring at myself in the mirror and awing at myself for the transformation which I had so conveniently thought of when reading a Vogue magazine. I imagined myself making dresses such as this dress, as well as all the other dresses in my closet, for movie stars and celebrities. Of course, I have to make the dress a little longer for the red carpet and pop in a few recommendations of the classic white gold jewelry and purple killer pumps for a rich cream or white colored tube dress. Statement was everything, including a purple clutch ornamented fully with jewels and some purple triangular earrings designed by yours truly of course; 2 colors always did the trick.

“I'd hire you one day.” Anne interrupted my thoughts on the transformation.

“Why not today?” I grinned, walking still in arm with her, “When the price is low?”

Anne smirked, “Okay, designer...Whip up a dress any day for me...don't worry about payment,” She joked, “I'll have my allowance by the end of the month...”

I laughed, “I can't wait until I'm outta school and then outta college. Fashion school here I come!”

“Look out. Emma's here to stay,” She chimed in. But she stopped momentarily when she noticed someone familiar, “Isn't that Tobey?”

I squinted my eyes because of the distance, “Yeah...yeah I think it is...but who's he with?”

“No that can't be.” Anne's tone was starting to make me scared, “No, no, please, it can't be! How could he?”

“You know who's that?” Walkingcloser towards the large entrance of the huge library that closes pretty late into the next day wasn't helping the blurry vision I had.

“Laura Jenkins. That's Laura Jenkins.” Anne seemed excited to have figured out the answer to the question, “Why's she here?”

Good question. Why was she here?

“Can they see us from here?” I asked, “Wanna call them?”

“No, we'd only be annoying...look at them.”

I did look. Smiling, giggling and the awkward air of the right words to say; it was absolutely revolting, like a predictable movie. And it was just like a movie, except that the victim was our best friend. And the predator...well, we don't really know her well enough. But besides the obvious, he was carrying the things needed for the project (which I had conveniently called him earlier to make him bring everything or he fails History...how clever am I?), and they were so focused on each other, they didn't even notice probably the two most outstanding people walking towards the steps. I say we were outstanding not because they was nobody around. In fact there was a lot, but they were all lazing around with their books in hand, studying away, and Anne and I seemed like the only 2 people who seemed to be walking.

We were in plain view but we weren't noticed. And yeah, we sure did take advantage of that. Prying around together like a spy. We watched and heard the conversation; violation of private conversation but we didn't care either. Tonight we were like James Bond, or rather, Jessie and Jamie Bond. She was Jessie and I was Jamie.

Slowly we crept up to the unassuming couple; too absorbed in the own little heads about the other that they hardly noticed us.

“So...” Anne was immediately behind them, “What are you guys up to?”

“Anne!” Tobey jumped far away, “What are you doing here?”

“You don't have to be so scared, Tobey, I'm not going to eat you,” She narrowed her eyes; proving a lie was present, “I just want to say hi to Laura.” Turning to Laura in the biggest smile, “Hi Laura.”

“Hi Laura.” I chimed in at perfect timing; both of us faking smiles and expression.

“What are you guys doing here?” Tobey wanted to scream but the others at the library was already giving looks.

“Oh I don't know, Tobey...” I wanted to strangle him for bringing a date to help out in our History project; besides, I didn't know her well enough, “Something to do with a History project maybe?”

Tobey scratched his head, “Um...yeah, of course I remember. But I mean, why is Anne here?”

Tobey could hardly finish 'here' when Anne poked in, “I'm here to help in case you didn't show up. But since everybody's here...we may as well start now.”

“Fine.” Tobey resigned and walked with Anne side by side, leaving me in same course with Laura.

“I didn't know you and Anne knew Tobey.” she started.

“We sit together at lunch everyday.” Everybody already knew that.

“He's sweet.” She remarked.

“Oh.” What else could I say? It's enough I'm already shocked she could hardly notice Tobey, Anne and I having been friends since middle school started.

“What's he like in your point of view though?” We finally entered a good quiet spot to carry out the project with disturbing the other people in the library.

“Huh?”

“I mean what's he like with you guys?” Laura pulled me back from going further to join the other 2, “Emma, I've dated so many guys before and I'm hoping he isn't a jerk like the rest of them. I've seem him around before, never really could see him as my type until 1 of my girlfriends were talking about him.”

“No...no of course not...Tobey isn't like that at all.” My eyebrows furrowed at her indirect accusation. But she still seemed unconvinced, “Look, Tobey is a great guy. You won't find another like him,” I couldn't believe I was actually starting to give some advice.

Laura looked genuine, “Thanks...”

“No problem.” I shrugged and wished immediately to get out within her reach of lovey dovey sappiness.

“Alright. I have the poster card and the laptop,” Tobey announced later when everyone was seated around the large table, “We can offically start the project.”

“Great.” I jumped up; I was happy to quickly get it over and done with, “I have just the layout I was thinking of earlier.”

Finally went the draft was done in about 15 minutes later; including designs for computer slides and the huge posters, we got to dividing the task since we had extra helping hands.

“Alright, I'll start drawing now.” I informed the group as Anne and Laura as they set out to find more books for research.

“And I'll start on the computer slides.” Tobey said happily as he turned on the computer and immediately connected it to the internet for extended research, “See? You could trust me after all. Tobey once again, saves the day. You can trust Tobey because Tobey...”

“Tobey,” I interrupted, realizing something was missing, “Where are the crayons and the magic markers?”