Free Material Girls by Elaine Dimopoulos Page B

Terrence, one of the three Junior Court directors I’d worked with, led me to the garment-judging room where Junior Court B sat. I wheeled in the dress form and maneuvered it to face the judges. I recognized one of them, a redheaded girl I’d been a sifter with. I tried to catch her eye and smile, but the girl didn’t seem to remember me. I cleared my throat and opened my mouth to speak.
    â€œHoochie-tacky,” said one judge.
    â€œTotally crustaceous,” said another.
    â€œSad, desperate housewife, fossil-in-training,” announced a third.
    Someone snorted.
    â€œDefenders?” asked Terrence. A beat of silence. “All opposed?”
    Each of the nine judges raised a hand.
    â€œThank you very much, Maria. We hope to see you again soon,” he recited. And I was back outside, alone, my one-shoulder creation mutely mocking me.
    Maria
. He didn’t even remember my name.
    Trying to swallow the lump in my throat, I rode the elevator back down to the second floor, where, evidently, the news of my failure had already been delivered. Vaughn was nowhere in sight, but a woman grabbed my dummy and sliced down the carefully constructed seams with a small blade.
    â€œWhat happens to the fabric?” I asked hoarsely.
    â€œScraps bin,” the woman muttered before shooing me away.
    I didn’t want to return to the basement. I knew I had to, but I wanted to go home and have Karen make me chicken soup and fudge brownies. I rode the elevator down, walked to my table, and laid my head on my folded arms.
    â€œP pill?” I lifted my head to see Dido offering the tin. I glanced at my colleagues. Vivienne was watching me intently. Felix was frowning.
    â€œI’m not trying to tell you what to do.” Randall’s voice came from my other side. I turned, but he didn’t look up from his sketch. “But those are incredibly habit-forming, you know.”
    â€œThey’re harmless, Randall,” said Dido. She smiled, but there was irritation in her voice.
    â€œUp to you, Marla,” said Randall, “but I’d save them for when you
really
have a bad day.”
    I glanced at the little pink pill in Dido’s palm. It looked like candy. I did feel pretty miserable—but I wasn’t sure about trying placidophilus pills just yet. No one on the Superior Court used. My mother only indulged once in a great while for what she called “unbearably taxing moments,” such as the days that led up to my Tap. Randall was probably right—I’d have moments that hurt worse than this rejection. I could wait. “Thanks. Maybe later,” I said to Dido. “I should get my own, anyway.”
    Dido tucked the tin away in her bag. “Suit yourself. I can recommend a dealer if you want,” she added.

Chapter Eight
    â€œJennifer Tildy, coming up on
your left,” Naia whispered into Ivy’s ear.
    Ivy turned to see the actress approaching with her nymphs, the whole group in safari-inspired clothing. Jennifer’s khaki hat hung around her neck by its drawstring and rested on her back. Ivy guessed there was no way Jennifer’s publicist would have let her cover up her signature bob.
    â€œLove
the new album, Ivy,” Jennifer said, a sheen coming off her hair even in the dim light of the ballroom. “
Super
prime.” She pulled out her Unum. “Any chance I can get a shot?”
    â€œNo problem,” Ivy replied.
    Jennifer handed her Unum to one of her nymphs and positioned herself next to Ivy. Ivy draped her arm around Jennifer and smiled an aloof, close-mouthed smile at the Unum camera. There was something about having her arm around the actress’s shoulders, not the other way around, that tilted the balance of power in her favor. She was the one gracious enough to give the hug. Jennifer, a huge star in her own right, was lucky to be around
her.
It felt good.
    The Unum flashed. Jennifer thanked her, and Ivy continued gliding