Free Bead-Dazzled by Olivia Bennett

proportions work,” Emma said. “I’ll only end up making four or five outfits.” She eyed Charlie, who was now typing furiously on his phone. “Are you really taking notes?”

    “Inspired ideas for the video shoot.”
    “Video?” Francesca asked.
    “Yes. We need a rockin’ beat for the models to strut the catwalk, and we need graphic and somewhat mysterious images flashing on a screen behind them to set the mood.”
    “What is Allegra’s mood?” Francesca asked.
    “Allegra’s nervous!” Emma joked.
    “No, not like that, the mood of the collection. Urban magic. The beading of raindrops. The swirl of wet color. The otherworldly pull of twinkling lights. All against the asphalt and craziness of the city.” Charlie ran his hand thoughtfully through the gelled spikes of his hair. “Or something like that. Can’t you see it?”
    “I can!” Emma loved that she and Charlie were infected with the same excitement. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.” She walked to the corner where she and Charlie had propped the bolts of scavenged silk and cotton.
    “ O dio mio! What is wrong with this fabric?” Francesca moved closer for a better look.
    “Nothing. This is the good stuff,” Emma said.
    “ Tu sei pazzo! This is not good. This is ruined.” Francesca poked at the deep water stains. “Why you buy bad fabric?”
    “I didn’t buy it—that’s the whole idea.” Of course, Francesca would never get that. She dropped two thousand dollars on a handbag without ever bothering to look at the price tag. Emma imagined the Italian watch heiress had a trust fund that could buy a small island or two—or ten.
    “So this fabric is old?” Francesca now seemed truly confused.
    “Not old, just no longer needed.” Emma explained its rescue from the flood. “Look beyond its flaws. Check out the quality. I’ll transform this fabric,” she insisted.
    Francesca titled her head, not convinced. “How?”
    Emma surveyed the yards and yards of discolored white silk. She’d spoken too soon. She really had no idea. No idea at all.
    “It’s all under control,” she lied. “The event is all about recycling and upcycling, and I’m staying true to the idea. This is the first step. I saved this fabric from certain doom, and I will transform it.”
    “Emma, my Papa, he will let me buy fabric for you,” Francesca offered, her warm brown eyes alight with excitement. “Something pretty, yes? Something not spoiled”
    “I like this fabric,” Emma insisted again. Reaching for her fabric shears, she snipped a large square off one roll. She held it up to the light, inspecting its weave and its weight. “No matter how it’s cut or who wears it, this silk is going to fall beautifully.”
    In her gut, she knew this fabric was a good choice. She just had to find a way to make it runway-ready. And not so stained.
    “What about the beads?” Charlie asked.
    “What about them?” Emma shot back. The fabric square suddenly felt unexplainably heavy in her hand. There was a lot to think about.
    “Where are you getting them from?”
    Once again, Emma had no idea. This many beads would cost lots of money, of which she had very little. Wasn’t it enough that she had spent all night sketching these amazing outfits that she would soon have to cut, drape, fit, and sew? It was like asking a famous chef to also grow the vegetables and slaughter the animals for a five-star meal!
    “I’ll deal with the beads second,” she decided. “First I need to make the fabric work. Maybe by then the bead fairy will appear.”

    “Yes, and she’ll ride in on a unicorn,” Charlie added, “along with mermaid models and a fairy band.”
    “That would be so beautiful,” Francesca crooned.
    Charlie rolled his eyes. Francesca never got his sarcasm. They’d often debated if it was the language gap or just a natural lack of intelligence. Either way, she was clueless.
    “I will do this without magic spells,” Emma insisted, gathering up her many