Free Charm and Consequence by Stephanie Wardrop

be amazing in it, like always.”
    “I'm not always good, Angel,” said Lily with a smile. “Remember that awful play I wrote when I was ten?”
    “The one where you played all the lead roles and I made those terrible costumes?” asked Angel.
    “The costumes were the best thing in it.”
    “They were horrible!” cried Angel. “I was a total novice.”
    “I was worse,” said Lily. “But look how far we’ve come since then.”
    “Sure, but look how far we’ve got to go.”
    “We can do it, Angel,” declared Lily, her eyes gleaming. “I know we can. I’m going to be a famous stage actress and you’re going to be a top fashion designer. It’ll happen—you’ll see.”
    “I like your enthusiasm,” said Angel, “but I think it’ll need more than enthusiasm to get us over the line.”
    “Nah, it just needs you to win the Teen Couture and me to convince Dad that acting is a real career.”
    “Shouldn’t be too hard,” said Angel with a wry smile.
    “It’d be a lot easier if he’d stop listening to Margot. Or just stopped seeing her altogether!”
    Angel hesitated and then said tentatively, “You don’t suppose you could try to like her . . .”
    Lily snorted. “Been there, done that, got burned. Anyway, even if I could bring myself to like Margot again, nothing could ever make me like Clarissa! She’s the most stuck-up, spoiled, self-absorbed, wanna-be-famous-for-all-the-wrong-reasons, queen diva who thinks she’s a lot more talented than she is!”
    “She must be pretty talented, or she wouldn’t have got the job with Miki Merua.”
    “She got the job because Margot pulled strings, like she always does.” Lily scowled. “People don’t see Margot like I do. They think she’s marvelous. It’s like she’s got some weird power that makes people practically fall over themselves to please her. She’s even got my dad sucked in.”
    “Maybe when he gets back from South America, you can tell him—” Angel broke off as Lily’s cell phone buzzed insistently.
    “Oh, shoot!” cried Lily. “That’s Dad now. I’ll have to go, it’s better reception upstairs.” She waved and ran out.
    Angel followed her out the door.
    In the kitchen, her mother looked up from cleaning the coffee machine and smiled.
    “There you are, Angelique, ma chérie .” Ten years in New York hadn’t diluted Simone’s accent and not even her housekeeper’s uniform could disguise her indefinable air of French chic.
    “Sorry I’m late, Maman,” Angel hugged her, “but I found it.”
    Simone stopped cleaning. “Not the velvet?”
    “Yes. Wait till you see it.”
    “But where was it?”
    “That little shop in Soho—I don’t know how long it’s been there but it’s everything I’d hoped for.” She opened the parcel, cradling the velvet in her arms as her mother reached out to touch it.
    “It’s beautiful.” Simone looked anxious. “Did you get enough?”
    “Just. It took the last of my savings, but it’s okay ’cause I’ve already paid for the international courier. The ball gown is the last thing I need to make and there’s still three weeks before I have to send everything to Paris.” Angel hugged the fabric to her chest. “I’ll have to work on it every spare minute but I know I can get it done—I must!”
    Simone hesitated, then said, “You know how much I believe in you, chérie . I know you are talented and passionate about fashion design, but . . .” She twisted a strand of Angel’s tawny hair around her fingers. “Winning the Teen Couture is a big dream, mon ange .”
    Angel’s blue eyes were earnest as she said, “I know, Maman, but some dreams do come true.”
    “Yes, but you’re competing with teenagers from all over the world. Young people trained in fashion design, while you’ve . . .”
    “Never even been inside a design studio, I know. But the Teen Couture is my chance to change all that. First prize is $50,000 and a year working in Antoine Vidal’s Paris studio.”