Runway Ready by Sheryl Berk

Mackenzie “Mickey” Williams was having a dream—her favorite one. In it, she was showing her very first collection under the tents at Lincoln Center during New York Fashion Week. The lights flashed and the music pulsed as supermodels strutted down the runway dressed in her elaborate, colorful designs. There was Gigi Hadid, wearing a black-velvet strapless jumpsuit and gold fringed poncho! There was Kendall Jenner, posing in a sapphire-blue pleather romper! There was Karlie Kloss, looking fierce in a red neoprene minidress and matching scuba jacket!
    As each look appeared onstage, the crowd of celebrities and fashion magazine editors oohed and aahed and applauded enthusiastically. At the end of the show, Mickey walked down the runway and bowed dramatically as the crowd leaped to their feet and cheered.
    Backstage, Mickey was suddenly mobbed by models, fans, and press, all eager to tell her how much they loved her collection. They handed her bouquets of roses, so many she couldn’t hold them all in her arms.
    â€œMickey, darling, you have outdone yourself!” gushed Vogue editor Anna Wintour. “What a stellar debut!”
    â€œAww, it was nothing,” Mickey replied in her dream.
    â€œOh, but it is!” Legendary designer Karl Lagerfeld reached over to shake her hand. He was wearing his sunglasses as always, and his snowy white hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “It’s divine.”
    â€œOh, Karl, that means so much to me coming from you!” Mickey exclaimed. “You’re one of my idols.”
    â€œ Who’s Karl? ” A high-pitched, nasal voice shattered the beautiful moment. “Mackenzie, do you know it’s seven forty-five? You’re going to miss the school bus.”
    Mickey bolted up in bed. “Aunt Olive, I was talking to Karl Lagerfeld!” She moaned, stretching her hands over her head. “You know, the head designer for the House of Chanel? It was the best dream ever.”
    Her aunt handed her a glass of green sludge. “Have your kale shake. It’ll wake you right up.”
    â€œI don’t wanna wake up.” Mickey groaned. “I want to go back to my dream. I wish it was true.”
    Olive patted her on the arm. “Well, if you keep wowing them at that fashion school of yours, it’ll happen one day. But not if you’re late!”
    â€¢ • •
    Mickey made the bus with only seconds to spare. She settled into a seat and rested her head against the cold glass window, watching as the city streets whizzed by. Her first day at the Fashion Academy of Brooklyn—a.k.a. FAB—seemed like a lifetime ago. But it had been just five months since she left her mom and best friend, Annabelle, in Philly and moved in with Aunt Olive in NYC so she could attend the middle school for budding fashion designers.
    It wasn’t easy. Besides Mickey missing her mom and friend terribly, in the beginning, nobody at FAB quite “got” her fashion sense. She thought it was perfectly acceptable to mix clashing patterns, sew lace on a leather motorcycle jacket, wear two different-colored shoes, or streak her hair with colored chalk. It was exciting and innovative, and if there was one thing Mickey loved, it was thinking outside the box.
    Ever since she was a little girl, she had created one-of-a-kind outfits for her dolls and, later, for herself. For five dollars at the flea market, she could find a sad, abandoned old dress, riddled with stains or holes, and transform it into something chic, sleek, and unique. She felt like a fashion superhero with magical powers!
    â€¢ • •
    According to Mickey, fashion was all about forging your own vision and not letting anyone dictate your personal style. “Whatever you wear,” she’d instructed her friend Annabelle over winter break, “you should make it your own.”
    â€œBella Thorne says pastel is in for spring,” Annabelle had pointed out,