Free Beads, Boys and Bangles by Sophia Bennett Page A

as soon as she got in from her latest chess tournament. Now I’m wondering if it was such a good idea.
    ‘You haven’t exactly got any proof that children are being used,’ I say.
    ‘Yes I have. You’ve seen the photos.’
    ‘They could be faked.’
    ‘So could that note from Roksanda Ilincic you’ve got framed on your bedroom wall. But it’s not.’
    I’m impressed she’s remembered it’s Roksanda Ilincic. Her stuff is soooo romantic and Crow’s a real fan. But that’s not the point.
    ‘We agreed that we didn’t know who to believe.’
    ‘We agreed we didn’t know what to do about it. But I do now. I’ve been thinking.’
    I sigh. It’s always dangerous when Edie’s been thinking.
    ‘It’s not just Crow’s collection, anyway. It’s happening all over the place. Every time you buy some cheap jeans in a supermarket you have to ask yourself how they got so cheap. Who made them? How much did they get paid? Was it fair?’
    I have to say, she lost me at the ‘cheap jeans in a supermarket’ bit. I just don’t wear jeans. And I don’t often buy clothes from supermarkets. I make my own stuff, mostly. Or buy it from charity shops. Or ‘borrow’ from Mum. OK, when I don’t get it free from Crow and Roksanda and people, but that’s just part of my job . . .
    ‘ Nonie? Are you concentrating?’
    ‘Yes,’ I lie. ‘You were saying it’s happening all over the place.’
    ‘Exactly. I’m going to start a new campaign. Phil’s right. We have to take action.’
    ‘Phil?’
    ‘From No Kidding,’ she huffs. ‘Remember?’
    ‘Don’t tell me. You’re going to make tee-shirts. With slogans on. And sell them.’
    She’s done this before. I know the procedure.
    ‘Yes I am, actually. Fairtrade ones that we’ve paid a good price for. Made out of Fairtrade cotton by people who aren’t exploited. I’m just working on the slogan now. I was going to do “No More Fashion Victims”, but Katharine Hamnett’s already thought of it.’ Edie sounds very fed up about Katharine Hamnett. ‘Instead, I’m thinking of “Cheap Clothes Cost Lives”.’
    Edie certainly doesn’t muck around when it comes to slogans. I imagine myself telling Amanda Elat about it at a price point meeting. Not a good image.
    ‘Er, I don’t suppose you could wait until Crow’s done her second collection and Andy Elat isn’t so . . .’
    ‘Yeah, sure,’ Edie says. ‘No problem. I’ll just hang about while the CHILDREN run up some more nifty little numbers for fashionable teenagers to wear, in their SLAVE FACTORIES.’
    ‘I’ll take that as a no,’ I say.
    She sighs. ‘Besides. There’s something else I ought to tell you.’ Her voice changes and goes low so I have to strain to hear her. ‘I’ve been nominated for this ethical blogging award. I mean, I can’t exactly ignore the photos now, can I? Not when they’re saying I’m a “teenage role model for engagement with issues of world poverty and injustice”.’
    ‘Wow! Edie? An AWARD!’
    She sounds sheepish. ‘It’s just a nomination. The other people are really amazing, though.’
    She describes them to me. They are a law student from Brazil who’s saving the rainforest, a high-school student from Arizona with a record-breaking IQ, an Indian nun (yes, really) and some kid from Ukraine who is radioactive as a result of the Chernobyl disaster years ago, and is bound to win. God, Edie lives in an exciting world. I mean, Marc Jacobs is a hero to me, but even he can’t claim to be radioactive. Not that he’d want to, I suppose.
    ‘And it’s not the top award or anything,’ Edie continues. She really is so embarrassed about this. ‘It’s just the “rising star” category.’
    ‘OH MY GOD!’
    ‘Nonie? What’s happened?’
    It’s what’s about to happen. The words ‘rising star’ have reminded me: I have a DATE with my nearly-boyfriend in TWO HOURS! What have I been thinking ?
    ‘I have to go. Alexander . . . but well done. And good luck. And