The Stitch Clique, page 1
For my sisters, my ultimate tight-knit group of friends.
© 2022 by Tina Wells
Illustrations by Mike Segawa
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 9781513141541
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023943914
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Published by West Margin Press®
WestMarginPress.com
Proudly distributed by Ingram Publisher Services
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Editor: Olivia Ngai
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ava
Ava Morris closes her laptop and sighs, sprawling across her bed in the vintage cashmere tracksuit her mom got her for Christmas last year. What she really needs is a break. Like, a serious vacation from her life. Between ballet classes, piano practice, horseback riding, and French lessons, it’s just too much. But “there is no break from excellence,” as her parents have reminded her dozens of times. Ava texts her friend Chloe Lawrence-Johnson.
Chloe texts back almost immediately.
The Vineyard is Martha’s Vineyard, the place for Black people to gather in the summer. The girls have spent numerous summers grabbing Backdoor Donuts and enjoying the scene in the Vineyard while their parents networked and caught up with friends.
Ava quickly opens her iCal and scrolls down to August. There it is, sandwiched right between her piano recital and lacrosse tryouts. Two weeks of pure bliss.
But that’s still more than two whole months from now. Ava doesn’t know if she can make it that long. She needs something that’s just for her—not for her mom, or the admissions board at Choate. Something just for Ava.
She opens Instagram and starts scrolling through her feed. “Bella Hadid has the coolest style,” she mutters to herself as she double-taps a shot of Bella rocking a pair of neon-green leather snakeskin pants. “But would I ever really wear that?”
She keeps scrolling. After saving a shot of Winnie Harlow dressed head to toe in the most gorgeous plaid camel Miu Miu ensemble, Ava comes across a shot of Lindsay Peoples Wagner rocking a hot-pink tweed set at a brunch in Malibu. It’s like Olivia Rodrigo’s outfit at the White House, but better, Ava writes before DM-ing the post to her bestie from school, Isabella Rossi. I bet I could make something like that, Ava thinks.
Before she can really put any more thought into it, she Googles: fashion classes near Lower Merion, PA.
gracie
Grace Alexander-Cline, who goes by Gracie, takes the deepest breath she can possibly muster, letting the aroma of vegan peanut butter and banana breakfast muffins waft up her nostrils.
“Hey!” Her little brother, Max, tugs at the end of the old Blondie tee she’s wearing. “No pausing! This is a nonstop pre-breakfast dance party, remember?”
“He’s right, Gracie Girl,” Gracie’s mama says as she gives her daughter a twirl. “You know the rules. Nonstop dance-a-thon until the muffins are ready!”
Gracie lets out a laugh and gets back to grooving with her little brother as The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Do You Believe in Magic?” blares through the Sonos speaker that their other mother, who they call Mimi, connected to the vinyl record player.
“Limbo time!” Gracie’s mimi yells out before pulling off her robe, hanging onto one sleeve as she passes the other sleeve to her wife. “Come on, Gracie! You try first!”
“Let’s go together,” Gracie says to Max, taking his hand in hers as they arch their way down below the robe their moms are holding above them.
“Ladies and gentleman,” her mama says in her best sports announcer voice. “I believe we’ve just witnessed the most successful limbo in the history of mankind.”
“Aaaaand,” her mimi adds, dropping her end of the robe as a timer dings, “just in time for muffins.”
The Alexander-Cline family sits around their lime-green kitchen table and digs into Gracie’s mimi’s famous breakfast muffins.
“Mimi,” Max says after wolfing two down quickly, “these are the best muffins of all time.”
Max is right. The muffins really are fantastic. And Gracie wants to enjoy them. But she just can’t. The knot in her stomach is too tight to let any food in.
“What’s the matter, Gracie?” her mama asks. “Breakfast not doing it for you this morning?”
“It’s not the muffins,” Gracie sighs. “It’s just… Do I really have to go back to school?”
When they’re dancing around the kitchen, painting in her mimi’s studio, or crafting at her mama’s shop, Zoey’s Closet, Gracie can forget about the knot. But the minute they slow down, it’s there again. Reminding her that September is just around the corner.
“I don’t like school,” Gracie says. “Nobody gets me there.”
“What about Ali from down the street?” her mama asks with a sly smile. “You’ve liked him since you were in diapers.”
Gracie’s face turns bright red. “Ali Mansourian barely knows who I am! Nobody at school does. I just don’t get why I have to keep going.”
“Aw, sweetie,” her mimi sighs as she reaches over to give Gracie a squeeze. “School will get better. I promise. Plus, you don’t want to just hang around here all day watching me paint while Mama works at the shop.”
“You know what?” Gracie’s mama says. “I’m starting the Passion for Fashion class at Zoey’s Closet next Saturday. Why don’t you join? You have always been interested in sewing and I have a feeling you might be able to find some people who ‘get’ you there.”
Gracie takes a bite of her muffin and shrugs. “I guess,” she says. I’ll give it a chance at least, she thinks to herself, though she doesn’t feel very optimistic.
lily
Lily Smith untucks and retucks her crisp dark tee into her light wash Levis as she enters her third hour of brainstorming bat mitzvah theme options on FaceTime with her Aunt Amelia. She wishes she was still in New York and they could just be having this conversation in person. But her dad got offered a job teaching at the University of Pennsylvania and—sigh—this is where she lives now.
“How do you feel about a Candyland theme, Lily?” Aunt Amelia asks. “I read this article on a site called PartySlate. It was ‘15 Wildly Creative Bar/Bat Mitzvah Ideas.’ Candyland was on the list and I thought it could be so fun. We could line the walls with gumdrops and jelly beans and everything.”
“Ooh! That sounds good, Lil,” her dad chimes in from the kitchen, where he’s doing his best to recreate her mom’s famous latka recipe. “Who doesn’t love candy?”
“Sure.” Lily shrugs. “Whatever.”
The truth is, she’s hated all their suggestions. She just doesn’t have the heart to tell them. Her dad’s not even Jewish, he barely knows what’s going on. And even though she’s trying her best, Aunt Amelia just doesn’t know Lily the way her mom does… or did.
Lily does her best to hold back tears as she remembers once again that her mom is really gone forever.
“You know what? Forget I said anything about Candyland,” Aunt Amelia says, mistaking Lily’s pang of grief over her mom for disappointment in the theme choice. “That was a silly idea. We’ll think of something else.”
“No,” Lily says, trying her best to fake a smile. “Candyland is fine.”
“Great!” Aunt Amelia says brightly. “Candyland it is. Now, what else do we have to get figured out? Hmm… any luck finding a synagogue there?”
“Yeah, I found one nearby,” Lily says. “My cantor’s class is going to be on Tuesday nights starting September, which is perfect because I’ve got soccer practice pretty much every other day of the week.”
“That’s wonderful!” Aunt Amelia says. “Do you have anything going on until then?”
“Not really,” Lily mumbles. “Just sort of hanging around the house.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Aunt Amelia sighs. “Is there some sort of summer course you can sign up for until soccer and your cantor’s class start in the fall? How about something with fashion or crafting? You and your mom always did love finger knitting together.”
“You know,” Lily’s dad calls from the kitchen, “I think I saw a flyer on the bulletin board in the faculty lounge the other day. Someone must have posted it for us parents. There’s a sewing class called Passion for Fashion for kids your age being offered at a shop called Zoey’s Closet. It’s not the closest, but I’d be happy to drive ya, Lil.”
Lily closes her eyes tiredly, but says back, “Sounds fun, Dad. Can’t wait.”
maya
Maya Alvarez doesn’t want to brag, but she can’t help but be impressed with herself. Today she and her parents are putting on an upcycled clothing drive at the nearby park to raise money for the church where her dad’s the new pastor. It’s their first big charity event since moving to Ardmore from Houston a few weeks ago. To celebrate the occasion, Maya is dressed in her own upcycled creation—a patchwork midi dress she created using hundreds of colorful old bandanas her parents had left over from a church barbecue.
Hundreds of people have shown up for the big event, from the parishioners at the new church to the most devout readers of her mom’s books, to the people who’ve been following her parents o nline for years. Even random people in the area just walking by stopped at some of the tables to buy a few things.
“Excuse me, miss,” an elderly woman says to Maya as she’s folding a shirt. “Do these pants come in any other sizes?”
“Actually, everything here is one-of-a-kind,” Maya replies, eyeing the pants she’d patched together using swatches from old floral dresses. “But I’ve got a dress with a similar pattern that could be right up your alley!”
As she walks the woman over to where the dresses are, Maya can’t believe she’s pulled the project off. Her mom and dad organized the logistics of the event, of course. But the vision for the transformed articles of clothing came straight from the inner workings of Maya’s own mind. Having read about how horrible fast fashion is for the environment, Maya hopes this event will promote a more habitable Earth by encouraging everyone to upcycle their clothes more.
“Here you go, ma’am.” Maya smiles at the elderly lady as she hands her the dress with a similar floral design to the pants. “What do you think?”
“I love them, dear,” the lady says, peering closely at the fabric and design. “But, you know, if I’m being honest, the stitching could use some work.”
Maya’s cheeks grow hot as she looks down at the hem of the dress. Her stitching really could use some work. The thread loops are spaced a little unevenly and even have a few snags here and there. But in Maya’s defense, this was her first real go at sewing! It’s not like she’s ever had any formal training.
“Maya, sweetie,” her mom interrupts, making her way over from where she was selling a skirt a few feet away. “Could you take your little brothers to the bathroom? I can help this woman in the meantime.”
“Sure,” Maya says. “Do you know where the nearest one is?”
“I think there’s a coffee shop on the corner there,” her mom says, gesturing across from the park where they’re currently stationed. “And here’s some cash so you can buy a snack while you wait for them.”
“Thanks,” Maya says as her mom folds a twenty into her hand. “I’ll go grab them!”
“Thank you, honey,” Maya’s mom says, before dropping her voice to a whisper. “And Maya? I hope you don’t pay too much attention to what she said. It was your first time sewing after all!”
Maya’s heart feels like someone just lit a lamp inside of it. Somehow, her mom always know the exact right thing to say at the exact right moment.
“Jorge! Carlos!” Maya calls out. Two young boys run out between the rows of tables, racing over to her.
“I WIN,” Jorge shouts as he crashes into Maya’s legs just a couple of seconds before Carlos.
“No fair! You cheated,” Carlos fires back.
“Carlos, nobody likes a sore loser,” Maya says. “We have to go to the bathroom right now. But you guys can race again when we’re back and you can beat him fair and square then. Deal?”
“Deal,” Carlos grunts as he clasps Maya’s left hand while Jorge takes her right.
“Okay, let’s go find this bathroom,” Maya tells her little brothers. “And don’t get too excited, but Mom said I can get you each a snack while we’re at the coffee shop.”
“Awesome!” they squeal.
Maya holds their hands as they cross the street. Ever since Maya’s older sister and brother both went to college, Maya’s parents have started treating her like Maya is the oldest child in the Alvarez household. And she loves the responsibility.
The trio is about to reach the coffee shop when a bright storefront catches Maya’s attention. Filled with colorful fabrics and cloths, Zoey’s Closet looks a fashion designer’s dream. On the window, a flyer says:
Even as Maya walks past the store with her brothers, her mind lingers on the flyer as an idea slowly forms in her mind.
sophia
Sophia Ito can’t believe her parents have anything left to fight about at this point. Shouldn’t years of fighting be enough to get it out of their systems? Plus, they’re not even living in the same house anymore!
Camped up in her bedroom in her dad’s house, Sophia tries to drown out the sound of her parents arguing over the phone by blasting the same old Project Runway episodes she’s seen a hundred times already on Hulu. It’s one of the few shows her parents let her watch that she doesn’t find too babyish. Plus, she loves the fashion.
Her eyes catch a glimpse of the shiny quilted silver duffle bag sitting in the corner of the room. She sewed it herself earlier today with her paternal grandma, Baba. Sewing with Baba while they watch Project Runway and dream up what they’d make if they had the skills to do so is one of Sophia’s favorite pastimes. But now that Sophia is forced to split her time evenly between her mom’s house and her dad’s, Sophia sees Baba—and the whole Japanese side of her family—less than ever.
Even though her parents live just a few blocks away from each other in Lower Merion, to Sophia it feels like entering a whole other universe when she goes to her mom’s—one that doesn’t involve anything having to do with her dad’s side of the family. Sometimes Sophia misses them so much, she swears she can feel their absence in her bones. Then she feels guilty for missing them when she knows she should be enjoying her time with her mom. Ugh. Divorce is the worst, Sophia thinks.
She glances at her phone on the nightstand and sees the time. Shoot, how is it already twelve thirty? She sends a text to her younger brother, Alan, who’s one room over: They keeping you up too? After ten minutes of radio silence, Sophia accepts he’s probably asleep. Sheesh, Alan can really sleep through anything, she muses. Sophia knows she should probably follow his lead and go to sleep soon. Her mom’s going to be here to pick them up first thing in the morning.
She turns up the volume on her laptop so that it’s just loud enough to hear over her parents’ voices without letting her dad know she’s on her computer so late past her bedtime. Sometimes the only way to unwind is to drown out her parents’ noise with more noise—it’s one of her best tricks. But tonight, it’s no use. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, Sophia gives up and logs onto Instagram.
Without thinking, she starts typing her crush Ryan Williams’s handle into the search bar. Nope, no new posts since that dreamy selfie he posted last Wednesday. She spends just a second too long gazing into his hazel eyes before popping out of his page and back onto her main feed. There’s no use in looking anyway. Her parents have made it very clear that Sophia’s not allowed to have a boyfriend until high school.
She scrolls aimlessly past the pictures of friends and family until an ad catches her eye. It’s for a store in Chestnut Hill called Zoey’s Closet. They’re offering a class called Passion for Fashion on Saturdays for people her age. Sophia immediately DMs the ad to her mom, sure that she must be off the phone with her dad at this point:
gracie
Sitting at the front desk by the cash register, Gracie stares at the framed picture of her late Grandma Zoey, the woman Zoey’s Closet is named after. Gracie knows the point of signing up for this class is to untangle that pesky knot in her stomach, but right now it seems to be scrunched even tighter. There’s still half an hour to go until the Passion for Fashion class starts and she can’t help but wonder what all the other people here are going to be like. And by wonder, she obviously means panic.
Will they make fun of her new pink hair that she loves so much? Is the Ramones tee too much? What if they don’t know who the Ramones are? Will they be weird about her having two moms? What if she tries to make a joke and nobody laughs? What if one of the mean girls from school shows up and tells everyone what a dork she is?
“Gracie,” her mama calls out from across the studio. “Stop sitting there stewing and come help me prep.”
Gracie makes her way across the sparkly pink linoleum floor, past the large purple table in the center of the room and the long blush-colored table where all the sewing machines are neatly lined up. She’s seen her mama use a machine, but Gracie herself has never tried it before. She walks over to the supply closet where her mama is taking dozens of colorful balls of yarn out of one of her many craft-filled bins.
