“OMG, did you get in big trouble?”

  “I did. My boss was furious, but then a bunch of shoppers liked your mural and the store decided to keep it up for six months. You inspired a whole new look for the cosmetics section.”

  Mickey thought for a moment. “So I was as crazy as Cordy?”

  “I wouldn’t call it crazy. I would call it colorful. It sounds like you two really get each other. You’re a great role model for her, Mickey Mouse. So don’t let Jade or anyone else get in the way, KK?”

  Mickey smiled. “KK.”

  She found JC at his locker, looking sad and discouraged. “I know what might cheer you up,” she said.

  “Front row tix to a Madonna concert?” JC asked hopefully.

  “Not quite. But how do you feel about crashing a five-year-old’s birthday party?”

  Mickey was sure it wouldn’t be hard to figure out where Victoria was throwing her granddaughter’s birthday bash. All she had to do was think like Cordy. She and JC met up after school to do some Web research.

  “I’m googling and getting nothing,” JC said, scanning the Web on his laptop for any hint of where and when the party was taking place.

  “We know it’s next weekend because Cordy said her b-day was Valentine’s Day,” Mickey said, thinking out loud. “And we know how much Cordy likes sweets.”

  “Bingo!” JC said, showing her his computer screen. “The Annual Vanderweil Valentine’s Day Fete at Dolly’s Candy Bar. Saturday at eleven a.m.”

  “That has to be it,” Mickey agreed. “How do we get in?”

  JC scanned the article. “It says ‘By Invitation Only.’”

  “Then we need to borrow someone’s invitation.”

  “Who?” JC scratched his head. “I don’t know any fashionable five-year-olds.”

  “Who else would be coming?” Mickey asked. “What about the press?”

  JC suddenly grinned from ear to ear. “How do you feel about being a fashion blogger?” he asked. With a few strokes of his computer keyboard and mouse, he whipped up an authentic-looking press badge and printed it out for Mickey.

  “Kenzie Wills, Fashion Blogger?” she read. “Do you really think I can get away with this?”

  “Just flash your badge. No one will know,” JC said. “At least it will get you close to the front door. Then you just have to find Cordy and have her help you get back into Granny’s good graces.”

  • • •

  Mickey had counted on the party being crowded, but she never expected one hundred–plus kids and their fashionable moms to be storming the doors of Dolly’s Candy Bar. The store was stocked with wall-to-wall candy, everything from gummy bears and Gobstoppers to chocolate, taffy, and Twizzlers arranged in floor-to-ceiling glass containers. Just inside the entrance was a giant, flowing chocolate fountain with marshmallows and pretzels for dipping, and downstairs was a do-it-yourself ice-cream bar. The guests—both kids and grown-ups—could barely contain their excitement.

  Mickey had carefully chosen her outfit for the day: a black satin trench coat with a red sweater, a plaid skirt, and a vintage heart-print scarf. She “disguised” herself in a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, hoping she’d blend in with the rest of the media covering the long red carpet outside.

  “Heidi, over here!” one paparazzo shouted as Heidi Klum escorted her daughter Lou into the party. She obliged with a pose and a bright smile.

  Normally, Mickey would have been starstruck by all the fashion celebs on the scene. But today she was looking for only one person: Cordy.

  Victoria’s limo pulled up and she stepped out of the car, holding Cordy’s hand tightly. The little girl looked miserable! She was wearing a white lace dress buttoned up to her neck, a white satin headband, frilly ankle socks, and shiny white Mary Janes. She noticed that Cordy’s favorite pink pearls were wrapped around her wrist. Everything else she was wearing had been dictated and decided for her.

  Oh no! Mickey thought. That’s not at all what she wanted to wear for her big day. Her heart sank, knowing Jade had designed this prim-and-proper outfit for the little girl. But it was Cordy’s birthday, and she should have been allowed to wear whatever she wanted.

  As Victoria posed and paused at each reporter’s microphone to be interviewed, Mickey managed to push through the crowd and position herself in front of Cordy.

  “Cordy!” Mickey shouted. “Over here!”

  The little girl squinted at her. “Mickey? Is that you? Those are silly glasses!”

  “Can I come to your party?”

  Cordy made sure her granny was busy and motioned for Mickey to duck under the velvet rope and follow her. “This way,” she said. “Let’s play hide-and-seek with Granny Vicky.”

  While Victoria was giving interviews, Cordy silently slipped away and took Mickey’s hand. The pair snuck into Dolly’s through the back service-entrance door. Amazingly, no one noticed them in all the commotion outside. They hid behind a giant twenty-foot-tall chocolate teddy bear in the basement.

  “How do you do that?” Mickey marveled.

  “Do what?” Cordy asked, tugging at the neck of her dress.

  “Disappear?”

  Cordy shrugged. “Dunno. Granny Vicky says I’m the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.”

  Mickey ruffled her curls. “You are! And I think I have a better idea for a game. Hide-and-seek isn’t your granny’s fave. This game is called ‘Fashion Star.’”

  Cordy’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, fun! What do we do?”

  “We figure out a way to make your party dress more Cordy, less icky,” Mickey said.

  “Yes! Yes!” Cordy cheered. “It’s icky and itchy.”

  Mickey pulled a small sewing kit and fabric paints out of her tote bag.

  “You design the skirt, and I’ll loosen up the neckline and sleeves,” she instructed the little girl.

  Cordy stared at the paint markers. “It’s okay to draw on my dress?” she asked.

  “It’s more than okay,” Mickey assured her. “Make it your very own Cordy one-of-a-kind creation.”

  “But Granny and my nanny always tell me not to break stuff—or be loud or make a mess.”

  Mickey put an arm around her. “That’s all very good advice, especially since you’re a big girl now. Five is very grown up, you know.”

  Cordy considered. “It is?”

  “Yes, but just because you have to follow the rules doesn’t mean you can’t make a few of your own. I listen to my mom and my teachers and my aunt Olive because they know what’s best for me every day. But when it comes to my style, it’s all me. I march to my own drummer. Fashion design is a great way to be yourself.”

  “Granny said I can’t have drums. I asked for my fourth birthday. They give her a headache.”

  “Not real drums, Cordy,” Mickey said, smiling. “Imaginary ones. It means you hear your own music and you dance to it.”

  She took out her phone and searched for her favorite song, Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off.” “I love to listen to this while I’m sewing,” she told Cordy. “It makes me feel strong and invincible.”

  “What does that mean?” Cordy asked.

  Mickey handed her a bright-pink paint marker and cranked up the song. “It means this dress is yours. Make it fancy and fabulous!”

  By the time they had finished redesigning Cordy’s outfit and slipped into the party room, Victoria was frantic. Cordy had been missing for nearly twenty minutes. The entire room was filled with heart-shaped balloons and pink streamers, and Cordy couldn’t wait to get her hands on the three-tiered red velvet cake towering in the corner.

  “Let’s surprise her.” Mickey held Cordy back. “Let’s make a grand entrance.” They ducked behind a giant gumball machine and waited for the perfect moment to jump out.

  “You must find my granddaughter,” Mickey overheard Victoria telling two security guards. “She’s about three feet tall, with blond curls and dimples.”

  “Does she run away often?” one of the guards asked.

  “Oh yes,” Victoria replied. “All the time. You take your eyes off her for a second and she’s gone. I can’t keep up, and since her mother left to pursue an acting career in California, I’m solely responsible for her.”

  “I see,” said the other guard, taking notes. “She’s a sly one.”

  “Yes, so smart and so full of energy,” Victoria said. “She doesn’t mean to be mischievous. She just can’t help it. This is all my fault!”

  Jade was standing at her side, trying to keep her calm. “I’m sure she just went off to play with some friends,” she said. “I just hope she doesn’t ruin my dress. It’s very expensive Chantilly lace.”

  “Not to worry, we’ve locked down all the doors in the candy store. She can’t go far,” the first guard said.

  Mickey waited till the guards had gone off to search. “Okay, that’s our cue, Cordy,” she said, giving the little girl a gentle push. “Go show Granny Vicky how beautiful you are.”

  Cordy burst out from behind the gumball machine. “Ta-da!” she sang. Her entire dress was now covered in rainbow swirls and polka dots, and the sleeves and hem were frayed so they floated around her in a frenzy of fringe. The once buttoned-up collar was now a more comfy boat neck. And to accessorize, Mickey had drawn bunnies carrying balloons on Cordy’s white Mary Janes.

  “My dress!” Jade screamed. “You ruined it! You shredded it! It looks like a chopped salad!”

  “I love it!” Cordy stood up to her. “It’s my design, and it’s my birthday, not yours. So there!” She stamped her foot.

  Jade backed away as Victoria scooped her granddaughter into a big bear hug.

  “Cordy, darling,” Victoria exclaimed. “You scared Granny terribly. You could have been lost or hurt!”

  “Nuh-uh, Granny,” Cordy insisted. “I was with Mickey. She took good care of me, and she taught me to play my own drums.”

  Mickey stepped out from behind the gumball machine and blushed. “We had fun,” she said.

  “I should have known you were responsible for this,” Jade suddenly piped up. She was furious. “You trashed my design.”

  “I didn’t trash it,” Mickey insisted. “I gave the client what she wanted. You never even thought to ask Cordy her opinion.”

  “I love my dress now,” Cordy said, twirling around in it. “Isn’t it beautiful, Granny?”

  Victoria looked it over from top to bottom. “It’s, it’s…”

  “Very Cordy,” Mickey interrupted. “It’s everything she is and wanted in a party dress. I just helped her bring her vision to life.”

  “I was going to say it’s divine,” Victoria added. “Very unique, just like my Cordy. How do I thank you?”

  “Um, maybe you could just send Mr. Kaye an email and tell him I fixed the problem from the WDAA luncheon?” Mickey said.

  “I’ll do more than that,” Victoria vowed. “I’ll tell him myself in person.”

  When Mickey returned to Apparel Arts on Monday morning, she was surprised to find Victoria sitting at the front of the studio with Mr. Kaye.

  “Why, that’s very generous of you,” he was telling the designer as Mickey took her seat.

  “What’s going on?” Gabriel whispered. “Why is that uppity lady here?”

  “Get a clue!” South leaned forward and smacked him on the head. “That uppity lady is Victoria Vanderweil.”

  “No way!” Gabriel whistled through his teeth. “Cool.”

  Mickey was afraid to guess the reason for Victoria’s visit to FAB, but she hoped it wasn’t to report to her teacher that she had crashed Cordy’s party.

  “Class,” Mr. Kaye addressed the room, tapping a ruler on his desk. “Attention, please. I am happy to share some very exciting news with you all.”

  Mickey held her breath. It didn’t sound like Victoria was ratting her out.

  “Ms. Vanderweil wishes to commend FAB and specifically one of our pupils for teaching her granddaughter a lesson in personal expression.”

  Mars elbowed Mickey. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  Mickey shrugged. She hoped so, but Mr. Kaye wasn’t looking in her direction.

  “We’ve all been invited to view the Victoria Vanderweil fall-winter collection on the runway during New York Fashion Week,” Mr. Kaye continued. “It’s a thrilling, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for all of you…”

  He turned to face Mickey. “And we have Mickey to thank for it.”

  The class cheered and Mickey felt her cheeks flush.

  “My granddaughter has told me she wishes to follow in my footsteps,” Victoria said to Mickey. “Considering last week she wanted to be an astronaut ballerina on the moon, it’s a great improvement. She can’t stop designing and redesigning all her clothes. She didn’t run away all weekend because she was so busy! I’m very grateful, and I owe that to you.”

  Mickey smiled. “She always had it in her,” she told Victoria. “I just believed in her.”

  “I assume you have someone who believes in you in the same way?” Victoria asked her.

  “Lots of someones,” Mickey said. “Mr. Kaye, JC, my mom, my aunt Olive.”

  “Then you are very lucky—and very talented,” Victoria added, winking. “Why don’t you bring all those someones along to my show. I’ll make sure you have seats in the front row.”

  • • •

  Aunt Olive and Mickey’s mom had never been to a real New York Fashion Week show before. The excitement in the air was electric as everyone filed through the doors of the enormous Lincoln Center tent. Inside were rows and rows of seats for invited guests, and the press and their cameras were set up behind them to capture every moment.

  “And I thought the runway was big at FAB,” Mickey’s mom, Jordana, said. “It’s a mile long. Those poor models!”

  “They’re used to it,” Mickey assured them. “Wait till you see the high heels they have to walk in.”

  JC and Mr. Kaye were already in their seats and waved from across the floor.

  Mickey led her family to where they were seated and noticed that a group of front-row seats were labeled with her name on them. They read “Reserved for Mickey Williams, Kenzie Wills Designs.”

  “I feel like a celeb!” she exclaimed, sitting down next to JC.

  “Not so fast,” JC said, pointing to the group of seats next to them. “Check out who’s sitting with us.” Mickey looked at the paper taped to the chair that read “Kim Kardashian.”

  “I’m going to faint,” Mickey said, fanning herself with the program.

  “Not if I beat you to it,” JC insisted. A yelp from inside his bag seconded that.

  “You brought Madonna?” Mickey whispered. “To New York Fashion Week?”

  “Hey, where I go, she goes,” JC insisted. “Besides, Madonna is a celebrity in her own right. Isn’t that so, pup?” The Chihuahua yapped back approvingly.

  Mickey scanned the tent as the seats began to fill up. “Have you seen Cordy?” she asked.

  “Nope. So far, so good,” JC reported. “Not a food fight, blackout, or fashion catastrophe in sight. I think you really got through to her.”

  Mickey noticed Mars, South, Gabriel, and the rest of her Apparel Arts classmates a few rows behind them. She waved.

  “Wasn’t it supposed to start at four o’clock?” Olive asked Mr. Kaye. “These fashion people aren’t very punctual, are they?”

  “You know the expression ‘fashionably late’?” he asked her. “Well, that certainly applies to the runway.”

  But Mickey didn’t mind. She could have sat there all day and night and just absorbed the buzz. Being in this tent gave her such a rush. This was where she belonged, where she always dreamed she would be. Today, she was in the audience. But one day, she would be up there on that runway, sending her models to strut down it wearing her own designs. She knew it. She felt it in every bone in her body.

  Her mom read her mind and squeezed her hand. “One day, this will be your show, Mickey Mouse,” she said. “I believe in you.”

  Suddenly, the lights dimmed.

  “It’s about time!” Olive sniffed. She took a container of kale juice out of her bag and offered it to Mr. Kaye.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said.

  A hush fell over the room as Victoria walked out onto the stage to welcome her guests. “This collection was inspired by my love for my granddaughter,” she told the audience. “It’s called ‘Youthful Exuberance,’ and I hope you enjoy it.”

  As the music began pumping through the speakers, a cloud of pink fog rolled onto the stage.

  “Whoa, this is awesome,” JC said, perching himself on the edge of his seat.

  The first model came strutting out, dressed in a pale-pink velvet kimono wrap dress. Her eyeshadow and lipstick were both silver, and she looked like she had fairy dust in her long, wild curls.

  “Very ethereal,” Mr. Kaye whispered to Olive. “Don’t you agree?”

  “It reminds me of one of the fairies in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Olive whispered.

  Mr. Kaye nodded, impressed. “A very keen observation!”

  Next up was a pantsuit look: white trousers with a white tuxedo jacket. The model was wearing pigtails tied with long, white chiffon ribbons flowing down her back.

  “Exquisite,” Mr. Kaye gushed.

  “Won’t it get dirty easily?” Olive asked.

  “Head-to-toe white is a huge trend right now—but you have a valid point.”

  One by one, the looks came down the runway: a pink tutu minidress with a houndstooth blazer and black ankle boots; a pale-lavender column gown with vibrant purple satin elbow-length gloves.

 

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