Chapter 23

Strike and Rally

Too few hours of sleep and a blink of a school day later, I was heading back to the Armory show—but this time, it was the real deal. To say that I was a little shaky would be an understatement, but most of the girls from the field hockey team had agreed to meet up outside Thoney after school to cab caravan over to the show, and it was good to have them for company. After conveying to Camille how much I’d lit into Alex to bring Xander to the show tonight, she’d agreed to kiss and make up. As she herded people into one taxi van, I squeezed in next to Ramsey in another.

“You know, Flan,” she said to me as the cab turned onto Park, “I’ve never been to one of these Virgils before. Formal wear’s not really my thing. But with you running it tomorrow, I just might decide to check it out.”

I looked over at Ramsey’s baseball-capped head and felt glad for her vote of confidence. Given the way she brought our team together, her opinion meant a lot to me.

“Thanks, Ramsey,” I said as the cab pulled to a stop in front of The Armory Show. “Now,” I grinned at her, putting on my best Jade accent, “let’s see what everyone will be wearing on ze field zis season.”

At the door, I flashed my model badge then followed the team up the stairs. I knew the rest of our class would be trickling in later, but I wanted to make sure the field hockey girls got their special VIP seating in the front section.

“I’ll just make sure you guys find your seats before I head to the dressing room,” I said when we entered the hall.

Over the arch of the runway, giant shimmering white letters spelled out JADE. The walls and ceiling had been decorated to look like a cross between an underwater scene and the moon. There were American flags planted into what looked like lunar craters lining the runway. A gauzy blue drape of fabric dipped down from the ceiling. It seemed like an odd backdrop to showcase field hockey uniforms—even haute evening wear field hockey uniforms. Jade was either a genius or a total wacko. But when I looked at the mesmerized faces of my teammates, I decided she was probably a genius.

Just then, I felt a jerk on my left elbow, and I turned to see a panic-stricken Jade. Her face was white against her red lipstick.

Chérie,” she hissed. “I need your help. These models, they are impossible. I ask them for one simple change, and they revolt against me! You must reason with them.”

Before I could respond, she’d yanked me backstage. In the dressing room, the models were packing up their bags.

“What is this?” Jade yelled. “You cannot strike on day of show.”

The “morphology” model shrugged. “I will say in English so Blond Essence and everyone can understand. You think we cannot strike? Maybe you cannot order us to memorize words that are complètement impossible one day then change them at no warning. We quit.”

“You quit?” I asked, still not believing my ears.

Oui,” Morphology nodded. “Learning how to say ‘clairvoyance’ in une heure? Non! We are finished here.” She struggled with “clairvoyance” a few more times under her breath, but each time, it came bumbling out. “Klar … vwah … yunce.” Finally, she glanced sideways at the bearded members of the jazz band playing poker in the corner. “You know what else, Jade Moodswing?” she said. “We’re taking our boyfriends with us. Come on, Pierre. Jean. Luc. Allons-y.”

Jade’s mouth dropped open and she started fanning herself with the fashion show’s program. She turned to me, stunned silent, as one by one, model and musician made their way out the back door in a single file line.

Jade fell against a wall and looked completely stricken. “Aide-moi,” she finally managed to whisper to me. I looked around the empty dressing room.

“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice even so Jade wouldn’t know how in over my head I was feeling. “There has to be an easy solution to this. We just need to score some models and some music, right? Piece of cake.”

“Um, Flan—” Camille’s auburn head popped into the dressing room, and she did not look happy. “There’s a bit of a problem outside. We need you … fast.”

I turned to Jade and handed her a bottle of water from my bag. “Stay here. Drink this. Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be right back with a solution.”

I left Jade and followed Camille out to the drill hall, where a large military-looking security guard was lording over the section of chairs where our team was supposed to be sitting. His chubby face was red and angry, and he was shaking his finger emphatically at Ramsey. Even his flashlight looked scary.

“Are these your guests, ma’am?” he asked me gruffly, like I’d brought a bunch of wild dogs into a Michelin Guide–starred restaurant.

“Um, yes,” I said, looking at everyone’s school bags and hockey clothes strewn around the aisles. I was starting to realize why he was so worked up. “Is there a problem?” I asked innocently.

“Only that you’re breaking about eight fire codes in here. For one thing, all these hockey sticks need to be taken out of here, stat. And you’ve got way too many people trying to squeeze into this section. Who’s responsible for the guest list?”

I bit my lip. I didn’t want to lay any more pressure on Jade, who’d handled all the seating, so I looked into the bright flashlight of the security guard, took a deep breath, and said, “I am. If you’ll just give me five minutes, I’m sure I can figure out a way to—”

A snicker to my left interrupted me.

“Poor Flan,” Kennedy said, shaking her head. She looked flawless in a black sequined cocktail dress and Louboutin slides. “Cardinal rule number one. Didn’t anyone ever tell you there’s a reason why some events are exclusive? Inviting the whole world to a fashion show just to win some stupid election … well, it’s naïve, and frankly a little bit pathetic. Guess you’re learning that the hard way.”

“Unfortunately,” an equally nasty voice said, “fashion show seating is the least of Flan’s problems.” I spun around to see Willa standing with her Razr at her ear. Her yellow Alice + Olivia shift dress shimmered under the Armory’s show lighting, and her ears dripped with gorgeous aquamarine drop earrings. She snapped her phone shut in her palm and put her hand on my shoulder. “I just got off the phone with Headmistress Winters. She wanted me, as class president, to be the one to tell you.” She paused dramatically, giving me enough time to wish we were on the field and I could hip check her.

“What are you talking about, Willa?” I said.

“What was the one thing you were supposed to do as Virgil Host?” she said, holding up a perfectly manicured index finger.

I racked my brain. I’d won the election, and then—

“Need a clue? You forgot to confirm with the caterer. We can’t have a Virgil without food,” Willa said, shaking her head. “I have to say, Headmistress was not pleased when the Boathouse called to say that the special events caterer canceled. Maybe you should have thought about your tendency to choke under pressure before you ran for Host and let everyone down.” She folder her arms over her chest. “What’s next, Flan? Are you the treasury thief, too?”

Around me, I heard the rest of our team gasp. Sure, I’d been a little forgetful this week, but accusing me of stealing from Thoney? That was a low blow.

I didn’t even know what to say, but at that moment, I also didn’t have a chance. Jade surprise attacked me, both of her skinny hands gripping my elbows.

“You’ve been gone for six minutes,” she moaned. “What am I doing for models? What am I doing for music? Get me Feb!”

I sighed and took a full glimpse at the mayhem surrounding me: panicked designer to my left, bitchy nemesis duo to my right, field hockey team about to be thrown out by the scary security guard. And everyone was looking right back at me, waiting for answers.

My head started spinning—until my eyes fell on Camille’s tote bag and Morgan’s CD—the FLAN’S GOT YOU COVERED mix—sticking out of it.

And voilà—music! Slowly, everything started to fall into place in my mind. Now I just had to pull it off.

I pulled the CD out of Camille’s bag and handed it to Jade.

“This is perfect for the show,” I told her. “We don’t need a band at all—we just need a stereo system.

“As for models …” I paused, scanning my teammates’ faces. “Have you ever seen fourteen more beautiful, graceful—all-American—girls?” I asked Jade. “Who better to model the transformation of the uniforms than girls who’ll actually be wearing them?”

Jade nodded like she was starting to see where I was coming from. Better yet, I could see the girls on the team bobbing with excitement about the chance to walk the runway in a fashion show.

“And if you guys want to walk,” I said to the team as they edged closer to me, nodding, “you just have to promise to do me one tiny little favor after the show.”

“Anything,” Ramsey said.

“Help me cook up a storm tonight. If we want to have Virgil, we might have to take catering matters into our own hands.”

Camille nodded, apparently coming around to the idea. “I do make a mean bruschetta.”

As the other girls on the team chimed in with recipes they’d be happy to contribute, a look of relief washed over Jade’s face.

“You’re either cuckoo or a genius, chérie,” she said.

I turned to the security guard. “And that’ll take care of the fire hazard, because we’ll move everything and everyone backstage, so you don’t even have to call the fire marshal.”

Now the only gloomy faces in the group were Kennedy’s and Willa’s, and for some reason, that didn’t bother me at all.

“You guys want to be in the show or what?” I asked them, and I got silent stares at the ground. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere. “That’s what I thought,” I said. “I’ll let your ridiculous accusation about the school funds slide this time, Willa. And Virgil’s still on, that’s for sure.”

“And it’s going to rock, that’s for sure.” Camille backed me up.

“All the models—backstage,” Jade’s voice rang out from her headset microphone. She was back in power-pout mode. “We only have ten minutes to get you fitted and memorizing your words!”

Ramsey shot me a confused look. “Our words?” she said.

“Don’t ask.” I laughed as we picked up our sticks and started to book it to the dressing room. “Just be glad English is your first language.”