Free Catwalk by Deborah Gregory

meowch pouches and you can wear them on your wrist or around your neck. And you
are
such a feline fatale.”
    “Here,
mija
, take one!” Felinez says, shoving one in Elgamela’s hand. She hesitates for a second, which prompts Aphro to chortle. “Girl, we know you’re voting for
Chandelier
, but don’t be bashful when it comes to booty!”
    “Spoken like a true pirate,” Nole says, giggling.
    After they leave, I feel a twinge of sadness. “I wish we could snag Nole for our house, no?”
    “Pash, I thought you said you despised his gawdy Gucci tendencies?” Angora asks, quoting me verbatim.
    “Yeah, well, I’m prepared to believe his hype. Everybody says he’s gonna be the next Versace,” I offer, pouting.
    A student interrupts our little huddle and I automatically snap into vote-for-me mode. “Hi, I’m Pashmina Purrstein. I’m running for house leader.”
    “I know who you are. My textile science class is next to your runway class. I saw you in action, too,” the girl says, giggling. I scan her quickly and notice that she’s hiding behind her big black sweater—kinda like Felinez used to before she began expressing herself big-time.
    “Um, you know anything about our style philosophy?” I ask her gently.
    She shakes her head in the negative.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Janilda.”
    “Look, Felinez and I have had it up to here with the plus-size clothing market. We’re even sick of that distinction. New millennium girls kick it in every size—and that’s what the House of Pashmina will be featuring in our fashion show,” I say proudly.
    Janilda’s pretty eyes brighten.
    “And that’s not just for the Catwalk competition. My career goal is to open a chain of stores—Purr Unlimited—that will break boundaries by offering our fly private label collection in every size.”
    “We’re gonna be like that Florida orange juice company—own the land, the growers, the oranges!” Felinez shouts.
    “You got your strategy
down.
” Janilda chuckles.
    “You never met Felinez before?” I ask, surprised.
    “Um, no, I’ve seen her around,” Janilda explains.
    “Oh—when you said textile science—”
    “Yeah, but I
major
in textile science.”
    “Oh. Felinez majors in accessory design, but she will be my right hand, my partner in our enterprise. And, um—”
    “But aren’t you, like, going to be a model? I mean, a major model?” Janilda asks.
    “For true.” Because I understand that not everyone is up on our whole modelpreneur philosophy, I break it down further for Janilda.
    “You are
major
!” she coos when I finish. “I like that—‘modelpreneur.’ Well, you’ve got my vote!”
    Janilda bounces away.
    “We’re gonna be the Ben and Jerry of the fashion
mundo
—scooping up profits,
big-time
!” I coo after her.
    Angora and Felinez cross paws with me on that one.
    But just when I think I can celebrate my victory, along comes Chenille.
    “Hi, Chenille!” coos Angora, shaking a fur ball against the front of Chenille’s overalls.
    Chenille looks down at the fur ball positioned at her ample chest, then grabs it and even reads the slogan before announcing to me: “Oops, you missed a spongie.” My mouth drops open as I clasp at my curls,searching for a runaway sponge roller.
“Psych,”
Chenille hisses.
    Where’s Grandma Pritch when I need her?
I think, glaring at my sourpuss sister.
    “Um, gotta go. See you later,” Chenille says dourly.
    I watch Chenille waddle down the hall in her baggy denim overalls and suddenly I get a flashback to the sixth grade. One day after class, I saw Chenille standing in the hallway, gabbing away with her friends, with my favorite black crochet shoulder bag flung over her shoulder like it was hers. I was so pissed that I walked up to Chenille and took my bag off her shoulder, turning it upside down, dumping all her stuff on the floor. Chenille’s arms started flailing all around, but that’s where the advantage of being a foot taller came in