Page 77 of Patrick

“Paranoid much?” He laughs, but it’s less than enthusiastic.

“Where are you?”

“On my way to the rink.”

“As always—I mean good, that’s good.”

“You sure you’re⁠—”

“I’m nervous.”

“You? Not my Fifi. She’s the most talented, confident—and not to mention sexy as hell—young lady in the entire fashion design department at UNH. She’s so extra⁠—”

My grin gets so big it busts into a giggle. “Stop. You had me at sexy as hell.”

“That’s right, baby. Sex sells. Knock 'em dead.” He pauses a blink. “There aren’t any guys in your class, are there?”

“Of course there are. Almost half the class.”

“Shit. Forget what I said about using sex appeal. You’ll have to rely on your raw talent, your magnetic personality, charm, and wit.”

My giggling spreads around until I feel like I must be glowing like a neon sign that says I’m on top of the world and no one can knock me down.

“You have no idea how good you are at cheering a girl up.”

“I do. You can thank me later.”

“I will.” We say good-byes, and I’m grinning as I put my phone in my pocket and gather up my things. The cold turned warm, and I glide down the path like it’s made of fairy dust all the way to the building and Design class.

Darcy is the first person I see when I walk in because she’s hovering near the door.

“I thought you were going to miss class again.”

“Not a chance,” I whisper as I set my things at my designated work station. There are several others already setting up their glam outfits for display. Before I have a chance to assess them, Professor M walks into the classroom from her office, commanding everyone’s attention.

As usual, she’s dressed like she’s on stage and would make a peacock weep with jealousy.

During class, as we work, Professor M moves from station to station, giving guidance to each of us. She has mostly positive comments about my creation—her word, not mine—with a few suggestions for improvement. I’m relieved as she moves on to Darcy.

I can’t help overhearing Professor M quietly commenting on her project.

“I suggest you work on making the outfit more wearable. Maybe you could try making a statement that says something other than feel sorry for me. Maybe go for something more elevated.”

Embarrassment for Darcy wells up. Shit. I try to concentrate harder on what I’m doing and ignore them.

But I’m floored when Darcy pushes back. “I’m not into classic design if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No,” the prof lowers her voice, but I listen harder, concern overriding shame. “Not classic. But you can stand out and be different in a brighter, prettier way. Think about it.”

Darcy nods but turns away and starts packing up her things even though there’s still twenty minutes left in class.

Professor M moves to the front of the room and claps her hands to get our attention, aiming a pointed glare in Darcy’s direction as she pre-empts the girls' exit.

“My darlings, you have two days to finish your projects and bring them to class where you’ll leave them until the fashion show dress rehearsal. Work hard, all night if you have to, to make your fashion vision become a reality because I have a special opportunity for you.” She pauses. No one makes a move or says a word.

“I’ve invited the world-renowned fashion designer, head of one of the largest and most prestigious and multi-award-winning design shops in New York City, Ellery Yumo, to attend the fashion show at the Winter Snow Ball.”

The air is sucked from the room by our collective gasps until it must be a near vacuum. I drop my pin cushion.