Royal Icing by Sheryl Berk Page B

both cheeks, she took her pink, crushed velvet Chanel backpack from the limo driver and slung it over one shoulder.
    â€œWow. That bag’s not even available yet. It’s in the Spring collection,” Mickey remarked.
    â€œYou know your runway—that’s a plus,” the boy told her before rushing off to his first class. “Good luck on your first day, Green Girl.”
    â€¢ • •
    Mickey tried to decipher her schedule and find her way around FAB’s long and winding hallways. There were six floors with design studios on each. In the basement was the FAB auditorium, complete with a real runway worthy of New York or Paris Fashion Week.
    Besides the basic middle school classes—math, science, English, and a foreign language—there were two design classes every day.
    â€œIs this Studio 6B? Apparel Arts?” she asked, panting from the climb up all those flights.
    A dapper-looking gentleman with graying hair, a mustache, and a plaid bow tie peered at her over the tops of his wire-rimmed spectacles. “And you might be?”
    â€œLost. I’m lost. I went to two other studios on this floor and they told me I was in the wrong place.”
    The man tapped his mechanical pencil against his chin. “You don’t say? Well, then congratulations. You’ve come to the right place. Take a seat.”
    He pointed to a drafting table a few feet from his desk. Mickey looked around the room and noticed the rest of the class was whispering and giggling.
    â€œIs there a problem?” the teacher asked.
    â€œNo, no problem,” Mickey said, sliding into her seat. She could feel the eyes on the back of her neck.
    â€œGood. Then we can begin. I am Mr. Kaye and this is Apparel Arts 1. Everyone in this class is either new to FAB—or flunked my class last semester.” He stared in disapproval at the boy sitting in the desk next to Mickey.
    Mickey gulped. This was the teacher JC had warned her about, and she’d already made a bad first impression.
    â€œEvery week, you will sketch, design, and create a design based on a theme I assign you,” Mr. Kaye began. “At the end of the semester, you will present a ten-piece collection on the runway before a panel consisting of myself, my fellow teachers, and special celebrity guests.”
    He stood up in front of the SMART Board and drew a big number “1” on it. “Your first challenge will be due in class tomorrow. I will be judging along with your peers.”
    Mickey’s hand shot up. “Excuse me. Peers? We get to judge each other?”
    The boy next to her groaned. “No, the winner of the FAB Spring Fashion Show gets to judge the first challenge of the semester. Duh.”
    Mickey looked confused.
    â€œBlake Lee,” the boy whispered. “Get a clue, will ya?”
    Mr. Kaye continued. “The theme is World Hunger Day. I would like you to design an original T-shirt that encompasses the theme while demonstrating creativity and originality. I don’t want to see something I’ve already seen before. Any questions?”
    Mickey’s hand went up again. “Can we use whatever materials we want?” she asked.
    â€œAs long as you stick to the budget: no more than ten dollars for the entire design, top to bottom.”
    A girl in the back row held up a scrap of fabric. “That’s impossible. I want to use lavender cashmere silk, and that’s way more than ten dollars a yard.”
    â€œAnd we only have till tomorrow?” another boy protested. “Seriously? I’m gonna be up all night sewing!”
    â€œWork it out,” Mr. Kaye said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Work it out.”
    â€œWhenever he says that, you know you’re in trouble,” the boy next to Mickey whispered. “That’s what he said right before he gave me a big fat F on my final.”
    â€œYou may sketch for the remainder of the period,” their