Read Online Runway Ready by Sheryl Berk - Free Book Online Page A

The model was wearing pigtails tied with long, white chiffon ribbons flowing down her back.
    â€œExquisite,” Mr. Kaye gushed.
    â€œWon’t it get dirty easily?” Olive asked.
    â€œHead-to-toe white is a huge trend right now—but you have a valid point.”
    One by one, the looks came down the runway: a pink tutu minidress with a houndstooth blazer and black ankle boots; a pale-lavender column gown with vibrant purple satin elbow-length gloves.
    â€œNow those gloves I like,” Olive said. “They’d go well with my jacket.”
    Mickey’s favorite look by far was a dove-gray ball gown with delicate beading at the bodice and miles of ruffled tiers. It floated down the runway, and the color was very gentle and unexpected: a modern twist on a traditional “princessy” gown.
    As Victoria came out at the end of the show, the crowd rose to their feet and applauded wildly. Walking at her side was Cordy—and she was wearing the dress Mickey had made for her!
    â€œAre you seeing what I’m seeing?” JC almost fell out of his chair. “Mick, that’s your dress on the runway at New York Fashion Week!”
    Mickey could hardly believe her eyes, and she didn’t know what to do when Cordy suddenly jumped off the stage and grabbed her from the audience.
    â€œCome!” she insisted, dragging her back up with her. There Mickey stood, holding Cordy’s hand on one side and Victoria’s on the other as they bowed together.
    â€œThat’s my girl!” Olive sobbed. Mr. Kaye offered her his handkerchief, and she blew her nose in it loudly.
    Mickey’s mom stood up on her chair and whistled through her teeth. “Go, Mickey!” she yelled, and Mickey’s classmates all joined in.
    Mickey hoped her enthusiastic friends and family wouldn’t upset Victoria. It was, after all, her show. Instead, the designer insisted she step forward with Cordy and take her own bow.
    â€œPlease give a hand for the real Youthful Exuberance,” Victoria said, pointing to them.
    Mickey had never felt so proud and so alive.

When Mr. Kaye walked in the classroom the next day, it was business as usual. “Take out your sketchbooks,” he said, not even pausing to drop his jacket or bag on his chair.
    He grabbed a marker and wrote a number six on the SMART Board. “Toughest assignment of the year,” he warned them. “I hope you’ll all ready.”
    South raised her hand. “Tougher than No Sew and Cordy Vanderweil’s party dress? I doubt it,” she said.
    â€œThat was child’s play,” Mr. Kaye insisted. “You’ve all experienced New York Fashion Week, so it’s time to step up your game.”
    He tapped a key on the board, and a slide of one of Victoria’s collection appeared on the screen.
    â€œYou’ll be playing fashion critic,” he said. “I want your opinion on what you saw—what was good, what was bad, what you would change. A thousand-word report on my desk by Friday.”
    â€œYou want us to critique Victoria Vanderweil’s fall-winter collection?” Gabriel gasped. “And one thousand words? Does ‘a’ count as a word?”
    â€œIf there are nine hundred ninety-nine other words beside it,” Mr. Kaye said. “And this assignment comes from Victoria herself. She wants to read every single one of your reports.”
    Gabriel banged his head on his desk. “This just keeps getting worse!”
    Mr. Kaye flipped through the slides. “Choose three you want to critique, and one that you would like to reinvent. Use it to inspire your own personal design.”
    â€œWhat’s the budget?” Mars asked.
    â€œAs usual, twenty dollars and feel free to choose scraps from the fabric bin.”
    â€œAre there any guidelines?” South asked.
    â€œFor once, there are none,” Mr. Kaye said. “Use your imagination and make it your own.”