All That Glitters Read online

  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.”

  Chapter 24

  The Essence of Success

  “Clairvoyance,” I heard Ramsey belt out when she got to the head of the runway in her bejeweled floor-length field hockey uniform. She’d successfully kicked off Jade’s show, and I could hear the oohs and aahs from the crowd to prove it.

  I was backstage, huddled up with my designer teammates, all of us jittery with pre-walk excitement. My heart was beating fast, but as I looked around me, I had to remind myself that at least I’d had a dress rehearsal for this. The rest of my teammates were basically winging it. At least they looked incredible.

  Sure, we’d gotten off to a slightly late start. The lights went down and came back up, and we were still running around backstage, hustling to get all fourteen girls outfitted and altered and lined up at the door. But it was better to walk late than never, and I had to admit, I’d never seen a better-looking field hockey team or a more dazzling group of models.

  Ramsey looked spectacular, all aglow when she returned from her foray on the catwalk. I’d been a bit surprised that Jade had seized on her to be the opening model for the collection, but that, too, was part of her genius.

  She’d said, “There’s such strength in you. You are the perfect debut for my line. You will be the sportswear evening gown, non?”

  Now the lights in the drill hall were out except for the headlights over the bright white runway and the flash of the photographers’ cameras. Morgan’s CD sounded great blaring through the Bose stereo system that Feb was controlling upstairs. I really hoped Morgan was in the audience now with Harper and Amory, and that she was jazzed to hear her music being used as the soundtrack for the show. I didn’t want to be a one-hit wonder, and I knew that after my flakiness this week, playing Morgan’s CD wasn’t enough to get my friendship batting average back up to where it had started with those girls. Still, I had to hope it was at least a base hit.

  As my teammates entered the runway one by one, I kept my fingers crossed that everyone’s spin around the catwalk would go off without a hitch. Thank goodness the Thoney girls had been more receptive to spouting off multisyllabic words at the head of the runway than their French counterparts had been.

  “Elemental,” I heard Jenna, our blond forward, enunciate perfectly when she reached the end of the catwalk.

  Camille was up next. I sneaked out of line for a minute to squeeze her hand. “Good luck, Ms. Onomatopoeia,” I whispered.

  She grinned at me. “You too, Ms. Essence.”

  From where I stood backstage, I could barely see Camille’s willowy frame as she entered the hall, but through the gauzy backdrop, I could hear that a section in the audience had given her an enthusiastic standing ovation when she unleashed “Onomatopoeia” on them. I kept my fingers crossed that Xander was out there somewhere with Alex.

  Before I knew it, almost all the girls had filed on and off the runway. In front of me was just Willa and Kennedy. Turns out they’d both decided their shot at modeling was more important than consistency in their bitchiness.

  All three of us shared a nervous glance, which felt a little funny, because sure, ninety percent of the time the vibe between us bordered on destructive. But tonight, none of that was on my mind. I only wanted the show to go off without a hitch. I genuinely hoped both of them had great walks—for their sake, for Jade’s sake, and for the sake of our whole field hockey team.

  “Good luck out there, you guys,” I said.

  Neither one of them said anything, but both of them nodded at me in an almost agreeable way.

  “Kennedy,” Jade’s PA hissed, “you’re up.”

  The music changed to a slower Meiko song, the last song of the show. I’d been listening to it a lot on my iPod since Morgan had given me this CD, to the point that its catchy electronic beat was already tied in my mind to the insanity of my first week at Thoney.

  “Determination,” Kennedy called out, posing at the end of the runway and getting a peppy round of applause.

  Willa turned back and gave me a quick smile before she strutted out through the curtains. As they billowed back behind her, I got a glimpse of what it looked like outside. The entire place was packed.

  “Solidarity,” Willa announced to the crowd.

  In the jumbled assignments of words, I hadn’t been sure what word had been given to whom, but “solidarity” seemed both ironic and fitting for Willa. I didn’t know if this moment of semi-truce among the three of us would last, or whether we were all just caught up in the exhilaration of the moment, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I was up. And suddenly, I was terrified.

  There was no snooty French model to nudge me onto the runway, but I felt the cue in the music and began to walk. My first step was a little wobbly, but when I got into full view of everyone on the runway, I was overwhelmed by how incredible I felt. And then I just let go. In a blinding flash of lights, I somehow made it to the end of the runway.

  “Essence,” I said calmly, evenly, in a voice that didn’t match how jittery I’d been feeling seconds earlier. The flashes from the photographers popped even brighter in my eyes, and I did my best not to break into a crazy grin. And when a large section of the crowd burst into a cheer, I looked over and could make out the faces of my family, all sprung from their seats and clapping. I was so excited to see them that—I couldn’t help myself—I gave a little wave. It may not have been the most professional model behavior, but let’s face it, as fun as this had been, I made a better field hockey player—and a better sister and daughter and friend—than I did a model any day. I didn’t have to be able to see my mother’s face clearly to know that she was crying.

  Backstage again, all my friends were caught up in a wave of frantic hugs and kisses. There were choruses of “You walked so well!” and “No, you did!”

  Jade was beaming.

  “You did a fantastic job, chérie,” I said, giving her the double cheek kiss.

  “I couldn’t have done it without your essence,” she said, air-kissing each of my cheeks twice—the ultimate display of French approval. “Shall we enter the throngs of the public eye to be showered by praises? That is always my favorite part.”

  The main hall was crawling with journalists, photographers, and news crews. I posed for a few pictures with Jade and with my teammates, but mostly, I was looking for my family and my friends.

  Luckily, I didn’t have to wait too long to find the Floods. All at once, four massive bouquets of roses came at me and, above them, I found the beaming faces of my parents and my siblings.

  “You were wonderful, darling,” my mom said with a huge smile. “We have to run to make dinner reservations, but we’ll see you at home later.”

/>   Feb even took off her headset to say, “Jade told me how clutch you were, Flan. I must say, I taught you well.”

  “Thanks, Feb, I learned from the best.” I grinned and turned to Patch. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the Czech Republic?”

  “Not till tomorrow,” he said, giving me a hug. “Rumor has it you’ve been rocking the student body at Thoney.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” I asked.

  Patch stepped aside and put his arm around Shira Riley, who looked a whole lot less intimidating now that she was smiling at me with my brother’s arm around her waist.

  On the other side of Shira was Anna Altfest, who leaned in for a cheek kiss and said, “Congrats, babe. It’s about time someone took a stance on those hideous hockey uniforms. You guys are going to look so great out there. Spence won’t have a chance.”

  “Thanks, Anna,” I said. “Thanks, everyone.”

  Seeing Anna made me realize that, as psyched as I was to have my family’s support, there was still one other person I was holding out for tonight.

  “Hey, Anna,” a guy’s voice from behind her said. “I barely get enough time with this girl as it is. Think you could quit hogging Flan for just a second?”

  “Alex,” I said, not even trying to rein in my huge smile. “You made it.”

  “Yeah, well.” He looked down at the ground. “I was never really going to miss it. Just kinda had to keep you guessing,” he said. “You know, Guy Rule Number One.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in rules,” I teased.

  “Some things are worth following the rules for,” he said, giving me a hug. “That is, if you really want them. Now check out what’s developing over there.” He pointed behind me to the short staircase leading up to the stage where Xander was chatting up Camille. He must have been saying something hilarious, because she was totally cracking up.

  “Could either one of them be more beet red?” Alex asked me, laughing.

  “Definitely not,” I said. Just then, the lights in the drill hall slowly came up to coax everyone outside. “Thanks for bringing Xander along,” I said as Alex helped me into my coat.

  “Sure,” Alex said. “I’d like to say it was hard work and that you owe me big time, but really, it wasn’t that tough to convince him. All I had to do was mention Camille’s name.”

  The crowd was gathering outside on the freezing January street.

  “So what are you up to now?” Alex asked. “No more big plans for tonight, I hope?”

  “Actually,” I said, “it turns out I have to put in one more crazy night preparing for Virgil tomorrow, but after that …” I trailed off.

  “After that …” Alex paused. He smiled at me. “Are you saying that after you do whatever secret Virgil planning you have to do tonight, and after the big event tomorrow … are you actually suggesting, Flan Flood, that I might get to hang out with you?”

  I laughed. “That might be what I’m saying.”

  “Well, then,” Alex said, tossing his scarf around his neck and putting up his hand to hail me a taxi, “I guess I’ll just have to wait one more night.”

  Chapter 25

  A Special Late-Night Delivery

  When the cab dropped me off on my stoop, I raced inside to see what kind of shape our kitchen was in for an all-night cooking affair. Luckily, the Flood household was spotless and—not surprisingly—empty.

  I cranked up Morgan’s CD, turned on some mood lighting, and made my slumber party specialty—popcorn mixed with M&M’s and almonds. Ramsey and the girls were stopping by Zabar’s to pick up supplies, so I figured if I were bringing a crew of midnight helpers over, I should at least give them the royal treatment.

  When the doorbell rang, I stepped outside to let in Camille, Ramsey, and the rest of the field hockey team. Everyone had brought pajamas, and each girl carried a bag of groceries.

  “Chef service!” Camille called out. “Sort of like room service, except you have to do all the work.”

  “Thank you guys so much for coming over,” I said, showing everyone inside. I was just about to shut the door when I saw three more figures approaching my stoop. As they climbed up the stairs, I realized it was Harper, Amory, and Morgan, each carrying a bag of groceries.

  “We heard you were catering Virgil yourself,” Harper said, shaking her head. “Have you ever heard of taking it easy?”

  “Seriously,” Amory agreed.

  “I don’t cook,” Morgan admitted. “But I will late-night DJ to keep the troops energized for the long haul.”

  “The more the merrier.” I laughed. “And we can definitely use a DJ.”

  “Okay, team,” I heard Ramsey call out from the kitchen. When I led Harper, Amory, and Morgan inside, she was sitting on the counter with a clipboard in her lap. “Let’s huddle up and talk strategy.” Apparently, Ramsey was as unstoppable in the kitchen as she was on the hockey field. “We’ll have four stations: appetizers, salads, mains, and desserts. We’ll divvy up the ingredients, make menus, coordinate oven times, and make this thing happen. Are you with me?”

  And so, at ten thirty on Thursday night, twenty exhausted girls huddled up, and not even Camille groaned about the strategizing.

  Within minutes, my kitchen, which had never in its life seen so much action, was transformed into a serious work zone. A cloud of flour rose up over the dessert section as the girls set to work cutting out pastry shells for fruit tarts. Ramsey stood on her tiptoes and oversaw the glazing of the teriyaki tofu. Camille demonstrated the best way to seed the tomatoes for her famous bruschetta. Harper pulled out some amazing skills toasting nuts for the salads she’d decided we would serve in coffee cups. Morgan donned a large pair of Patch’s DJ headphones and pumped us up by mixing some energetic techno beats. And I took breaks from my role assisting Camille on the garlic chopping and walked around the kitchen holding out the bowl of magic popcorn to anyone who needed an extra boost.

  By midnight, the kitchen was a disaster, but we were halfway through the preparation. Camille came up and put her arm around me. “When Willa dropped that bomb on you tonight, I never thought I’d get to say this … but I think we just might pull this crazy idea off.”

  Just then, the doorbell rang, and Camille and I shared a confused look.

  “You don’t think that’s Willa and Kennedy, do you?” I asked. They were the only two members of the hockey team not representing at my house tonight. “I thought we sort of had a moment on the runway tonight. Maybe they’re—”

  Camille raised an eyebrow at me. “What,” she said, “maybe they’ve stopped being agents of evil? I don’t know, Flan, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. People are different on and off the runway.”

  I went to the door with no idea what I’d be confronted with, and what I found was even more startling than a contrite Kennedy and Willa.

  “SBB!” I cried. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

  She looked like she’d been through Hell and back again. Her blond hair was matted to her face, and her cream colored dress was lopsided and falling off her shoulder—and suddenly, I realized it was all my fault.

  “Oh no!” I said, covering my face with my flour-covered hands.

  “You forgot about me. I left you twenty-seven messages, but you still forgot about me,” she peeped before collapsing at my feet. “And now my life is over.”

  “Oh, SBB,” I said. “I’m so sorry. The show ran late, and my phone was off …” I held out my arms and helped her inside the living room, away from the chaos of the kitchen. “What happened?”

  “What didn’t happen?” she wailed. “I couldn’t get a hold of you. I stopped by and no one was here except for Patch, who told me not to go with the Nanette Lepore. I realize now I should never listen to Patch’s opinion on fashion, but I couldn’t help it! He was the closest thing I could find to you. And so I ditched the first dress we’d agreed on, and I went with this ridiculous Gucci ensemble.” She flicked the gorgeous satin gown at her hips. “Huge mistake,” she sai
d, looking up at me with big, mascara-streaked eyes.

  “Ashleigh Ann?” I asked, feeling my heart drop into my stomach. Sure, SBB had a tendency to over-dramatize the situation, but this one sounded real, and I was scared to hear whether her biggest fears had actually come true.

  SBB nodded. “Same Jimmy Choo shoes, same Gucci dress, same Versace clutch. Grade A red carpet disaster. And she showed up first, effectively ruining my reputation. I was the copycat. There was nothing to be done.”

  “Oh SBB—”

  “And then,” she said, not letting me finish, “Gloria showed up and forced me to have dinner with her at Per Se. JR got sucked into a brainstorming meeting with Garrison Toyota, and I was left alone—alone—with the woman who continues to lord over me the fact the she gave me life. She spent at least an hour trying to bribe me into letting her have custody of me again. The nerve, Flan, the absolute nerve! It could not have been more of a disaster.” She turned to look at me with her big blue eyes, and I felt like just as much of an irresponsible mother as Gloria. “Why weren’t you there, Flan?” SBB pleaded. “My career is basically over, so I’ve got all the time in the world to listen to your excuse.”

  Just then, Ramsey poked her head into the living room. “Flan, can you taste this sauce?” she asked. “Wait, aren’t you Sara-Beth Benny?”

  SBB sighed. “I used to be,” she said, shooting me a look. “Now I am a shadow of my former self, no thanks to Flan. I’ll taste the sauce.”

  Ramsey shrugged and put the wooden spoon to SBB’s lips.

  SBB savored the sauce for a minute, then said, “Hmm. Add a touch of salt, some rosemary, maybe cut it with a little honey. Overall, I think it’s pretty good. But”—she wagged a menacing finger at me—“we are not good.”

  As I watched her huddled figure plod to my front door before slamming it behind her, my heart twisted up. I couldn’t believe I’d let my best friend down. As I plopped down on the couch, I thought: I had to figure out a way to make it up to her.