The two weeks till the gala seemed to fly by. Before Mickey knew it, she was sitting in Mrs. Jansen’s apartment for the last time, helping Kendyll get into her gown while her stylists fussed with her hair and makeup. She’d chosen to wear her hair in a faux bob, with her waves carefully tucked under to resemble Gertie’s in the photos.

She added white satin elbow-length gloves, sky-high silver sandals, and a black sequin mask to accessorize the dress.

“One more thing,” her aunt said, racing around to get herself ready in time as well. “This is for both of you. For Kendyll to wear tonight, and for Mickey to have as a memento after the gala.” She brought out a Tiffany blue box, and Kendyll untied the bow. Inside were Gertie’s pearls, meticulously restrung and fastened with a brilliant diamond clasp.

“Auntie Elinore! I can’t believe you did this!” Kendyll gushed.

“Me, neither,” Mickey said, shaking her head. “It’s too, too much. I can’t accept it.”

“Oh, you can and you will—as payment for making this divine dress,” Mrs. Jansen insisted. “And this as well.” She snapped her fingers, and one of Kendyll’s assistants appeared carrying a Singer sewing machine with a big red bow on top. “Top of the line, brand-new model,” she said proudly. “It has all the bells and whistles. So when we hire you to make more of Kendyll’s clothes, you have the very best machine to use.”

Mickey wanted to cry. It was too good to be true! And the necklace would be the perfect sentimental birthday gift for Aunt Olive!

“I wish you could come with me to the gala,” Kendyll said, taking Mickey’s hand. “So when Gigi comes up and says something obnoxious, you’re there to help me think of a zinger to hurl back at her.”

“You don’t need me,” Mickey assured her. “Just believe in yourself. And you’ve got Gertie along to help you.” She pointed to a photo on the bodice of the dress. “This is my favorite one. She’s doing the Charleston and kicking her leg way up in the air. If Gigi acts up, give her a kick in the butt just like that.”

Kendyll cracked up. “Okay, I will.”

Her stylists checked her red lipstick one last time to make sure it was set. “Do I look okay?” she asked Mickey. “I’m so, so nervous.”

“You look amazing,” Mickey said, hugging her. “Like the star you are.”

• • •

Mickey watched as a long, black stretch limo pulled away from the Park Avenue town house and took the Jansens to the gala. It wasn’t quite Cinderella’s carriage, but it felt like it. And she felt a little like Kendyll’s fashion fairy god-friend.

“Brava,” said a voice in the shadows. Mickey recognized it at once.

“JC! What are you doing here?” she asked, shocked.

“Followed ya after school,” he said. “The dress is amazing, Mick. Really. You outdid yourself.”

“You know?”

“Well, now I do,” he said, patting himself on the back. “Thanks to my expert spy skills.”

“I know—lots of practice sneaking backstage at Madonna concerts,” Mickey said, laughing.

“Exactly. You didn’t think you could pull one over on me, did you?”

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you? I promised Kendyll I wouldn’t. Not till after the gala.”

“Mad? No. Not when I know my BFF is going to make sure I get a selfie with my fave supermodel next time she sees her.”

“I thought Gigi was your fave supermodel,” Mickey reminded him.

“Are you kidding? After the way she treated you? She’s on my Who’s Out list from now on.”

Mickey gathered up her new sewing machine. “Look what I got as a thank-you present,” she said.

JC’s eyes lit up. “Okay, that is one sick sewing machine. And you will let your BFF use it, of course.”

“Of course!” Mickey said, walking to the corner to hail a cab. “You coming? I hear they’re streaming the Met Costume Gala live on Style.com.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” JC said. “There’s this new designer making her debut on the red carpet: Mickey Williams.”

“She’s supposed to be pretty good,” Mickey teased.

A cab pulled up, and JC opened the door for her. “Yeah, not too shabby,” he joked. “Not too shabby at all.”

• • •

As she had promised, Kendyll credited Mickey with her magnificent Met Gala gown, and when Style Snoop magazine ran their Best Dressed of the week, there was her name, right in the caption: “Kendyll Jansen turned heads in an original Mickey Williams creation…” Mickey clipped the picture out and tucked it into the box with Granny Gertie’s old photos for safekeeping. Then she texted a photo of the dress to her mom.

“I hated having to keep it from you,” she said. “I almost even spilled a couple of times.”

“I knew,” her mom said.

“You knew? What do you mean? How?”

“I didn’t know specifically, but I felt in my bones that you were working on something more than just your school assignment. Moms always know.”

Mickey wondered if the rest of her FAB classmates had figured it out as well. At any rate, the cat was now out of the bag. There had been a lot of press about her gown. Entertainment Tonight called Kendyll “a walking work of art” and People magazine dubbed it “a dynamic gala debut.”

“Congrats!” South said as Mickey took her seat. “You’re, like, famous!”

Jade looked up but didn’t say anything—not that Mickey thought she ever would. Her mom’s gala gown for Gigi had gotten only mediocre reviews. One critic said the black-and-white tulle made the supermodel look like “the Goodyear blimp.” But Jake warmly patted Mickey on the back. “Nice job,” he said. “I bet lots of celebrities are gonna want you to design for them now.”

Mickey hadn’t even thought of that possibility! Jade groaned—clearly, she had.

“As if,” she said through gritted teeth. “You know all those eighties pop stars who were one-hit wonders?” she asked Mickey. “That’s you in the fashion world. You got lucky this one and only time.”

Gabriel sprung to her defense. “Luck had nothing to do with it,” he said. “Mickey is talented. And you’re jealous, Jade.”

“Jealous? Why should I be jealous? I’ve clearly got a long and successful career in fashion ahead of me.”

“Yeah,” Mars replied, snickering. “When your mommy retires, she’ll hand you the business on a silver platter. Tell her, Mickey!”

But Mickey didn’t feel the need to say anything. Jade’s insults just rolled right off her, like she was wearing a big, yellow rain slicker. She remembered what she had told Kendyll that first time they met in the Madison Plaza ballroom: When it comes to haters hating on you, tune it out.

“You should be really proud of yourself, Mickey,” South added. “You done good, girl.”

Mickey smiled. She had done good. Not just good, great.

Jade was about to fire off another catty response when Mr. Kaye walked into the studio. He had surely seen Mickey’s name in the fashion reports, but he didn’t mention it. It was just like him to keep things business as usual—and keep Mickey on her toes.

“Our next assignment is going to be your toughest one yet,” he warned his students. “I want you to challenge yourselves more than you ever have.”

Mickey smiled. She wouldn’t have it any other way.