Mickey hated keeping secrets—especially from her mom. But when Jordana called that night to ask her daughter how her day went, Mickey crossed her fingers behind her back and fibbed. She had promised Mrs. Jansen she wouldn’t spill just yet. So she told herself it wasn’t really a lie; it was just pushing the pause button on the truth.
“My day? Oh, it was fine, nothing out of the ordinary,” she told her mom. “Mr. Kaye gave us our new project to work on.”
“And what’s that?” her mother asked.
“It’s based on the Met Costume Gala. I have to come up with something someone would wear to it.” She paused. “Of course, no one would really wear one of my designs.”
“Aw, don’t put yourself down, Mickey Mouse!” her mom said. “Any of those big celebs would be lucky to wear a Mickey Williams original!”
“But they wouldn’t. Trust me. Not happening.”
“Well, then it’s their loss,” her mom added. “So what are you thinking of making?”
Mickey closed her eyes and brainstormed out loud. “Well, the exhibit is based on old black-and-white photographs. So I thought of creating an original textile print out of old pics.”
“Sounds promising,” her mom replied.
“We have this amazing scanner and fabric printer at FAB. I just have to find the right photos to use for it.”
“Check with your aunt Olive,” Jordana said. “She has boxes and boxes of old family photos stored away.”
Mickey’s ears perked up. “Really? What kind of photos?”
“Oh, lots and lots of your great-grandma Gertie in particular. Did you know she was a silent-screen actress?”
Mickey shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”
“Apparently, a director spotted her and used her as an extra in a 1920s Gloria Swanson movie. Granny Gertie loved to tell us that story when we were little, all about how she was famous for fifteen minutes on the big screen. Olive just adored her.”
“I think I know what I’m going to do for my design,” Mickey said, inspired. “Mom, you’re a genius.”
“Really? What?” her mom asked excitedly. “Tell me!”
Mickey hesitated. “I can’t. A designer is supposed to keep her work close to the vest—so to speak.” Mickey knew her mom wasn’t going to accept that answer. It was not like her to keep secrets between them.
“Since when?” Jordana asked suspiciously. “You usually text me pics of your sketches and can’t wait to tell me what you’re working on.”
“I know, but this is different. I kind of promised I wouldn’t share it. Not just yet.”
“Hmm,” her mom replied. “Okay, but when you are ready to share, I’ll be here…waiting.”
“I know,” Mickey said. She felt just awful! Why had she made this stupid promise to Mrs. Jansen?
“Good luck with your top secret assignment,” Jordana added. “But it’s no secret that I love you, Mickey Mouse.”
Mickey opened her mouth. She wanted to tell her mom so badly that she was designing a gown for Kendyll and this could finally put her name on the fashion map! But instead she replied simply, “Ditto.”
• • •
After she hung up with her mom, Mickey went in search of Olive, who was hard at work in the kitchen preparing dinner.
“What is that?” Mickey asked, smelling something strange cooking in a pot on the stove.
“Alfalfa stew,” Olive announced proudly. “My famous recipe.”
Mickey pulled up a stool and watched her stir. “Speaking of famous…” she began. “Do you have any old black-and-white photos of Granny Gertie?”
Olive stopped what she was doing and looked thoughtful. “Oh, I haven’t heard that name in ages. Dear, dear Granny Gertie! Where did you hear it?”
“Mom,” Mickey explained. “She said you have a whole box of pics, and I need them for my Apparel Arts project.”
Olive wiped her hands on her apron and left the stew simmering. “Follow me.”
She pulled out a step stool and climbed high in the coat closet in the living room. From the top shelf, she pulled down a large shoe box.
“This should be it,” she said to Mickey. “I always thought one day I’d organize them into an album or a scrapbook, a tribute to my grandma.”
Mickey opened the lid and dove in. There were literally dozens of black-and-white photos of a beautiful brunette with big, dark eyes, in all sorts of fashionable attire. “I love this one,” she said, finding a picture of Gertie in a flapper dress with her hair in a boyish bob. “She’s so chic!”
“The chic-est.” Olive smiled. “You see those long pearls? She gave those to me. I still have them.”
“Aunt Olive, these are perfect,” Mickey said. “Can I borrow them for a while?”
“Of course! Gertie would have loved her great-granddaughter taking an interest in her.”
Mickey felt more than interested; she felt inspired, like someone had literally sparked a match and lit her creativity on fire! She could see Kendyll’s gown as plain as day: a 1920s-style evening gown with an asymmetrical handkerchief hemline, a plunging V in the back, and a white marabou feather wrap. She took the shoe box and retreated to her room where she sketched and sketched until Aunt Olive called her to dinner. When she met Kendyll tomorrow, Mickey would have so much to show her!
• • •
The next day felt like it was dragging on forever. Mickey just wanted it to end so she could get to Mrs. Jansen’s apartment on the Upper East Side.
“Hey, Mick.” JC waved at her as she bounded down the front steps of FAB in search of her school bus. “Where ya goin’ in such a hurry?”
She checked the time on her phone: 3:15 p.m. She had promised Mrs. Jansen she would be there no later than four thirty to meet with her and Kendyll. If JC slowed her down, or worse, if she missed her bus, she’d be late.
“Can’t talk now.” She hurried past him. “Call ya later.”
“But what about Madge? You said you would come with me after school and help me pick out some albums.”
Mickey froze in her tracks. She had promised JC she would go with him. It had completely flown out of her head when this whole Kendyll costume popped up.
“I’m sorry, JC,” she apologized. “I just can’t today. I’m in a huge rush.”
“Okay,” JC said. “Where ya rushin’ to? Maybe I can come, and we can go to Madge another day.”
“No!” Mickey shouted, a little louder than she intended. “You can’t come with me.”
“Why not?” JC asked. He sniffed his armpit, then Madonna’s bag. “Neither one of us smells.”
“I can’t say,” Mickey said, lowering her eyes. “It’s kind of a secret.”
“Since when do we keep secrets from each other?” Mickey noticed that JC looked genuinely upset. But she couldn’t tell him; she just couldn’t!
“We don’t. But this is a super secret, and I just can’t share it with anyone,” she tried to explain.
“I’m not just anyone. I’m your best friend.”
Mickey nodded. “You are! And I promise, as soon as I can say something, I will.”
She patted his arm and dashed off just as the school bus was getting ready to pull away. Keeping this secret was going to be harder than she’d thought—especially if it meant hurting JC’s feelings in the process.