Vanessa's Fashion Face-Off by Jo Whittemore

said.
    Tim shrugged. “Anyway, if I lose, I still get plenty of paper time. It’s win-win.”
    â€œWin-win-winners!” chirped Katie, appearing out of nowhere, like a pimple on date night.
    She plopped down on my lap, stealing a tater tot.
    â€œOh, these need way more salt.” She grabbed a shaker and unleashed a blizzard on my tray. “Hi, you guys!”
    â€œHi, Katie!” Heather said.
    â€œHey, Katie!” Brooke said.
    â€œHey there,” Tim said.
    â€œThat’s too much salt,” I said.
    But nobody heard me.
    Brooke slapped a hand on the table. “Katie, I neverfound the balloon with the ribbon in it! Do you realize what I went through? How many people I had to push down?”
    â€œBrooke!” Heather gave her a shocked look, and Brooke blushed.
    â€œIt was only one person.”
    â€œNot better,” said Heather.
    Katie laughed and grabbed Brooke’s hands. “If it means that much to you, I have another pair of tickets with your name all over them.”
    Brooke squealed and leaned across the table to hug Katie, dragging her over my salad.
    â€œHey, leave my lunch out of this!” I poked Katie in the side, and she jumped up, laughing.
    â€œSorry, Vanny.” She brushed a piece of lettuce off the front of her sweater. “I actually came by to tell you that I was talking to James . . . uh . . . Principal Winslow,” she corrected herself, “and he said they’ve already received a ton of ballots in the office from today’s advice-off.”
    Tim perked up. “Am I winning?”
    Katie shrugged. “He wouldn’t give me the details, but from what other kids are telling me, you’re going to win.”
    Tim smirked and crossed his arms behind his head. “Ha! I mean . . . not that I was sweatin’ it or anything.”
    â€œWe know,” I said, lowering the arm closest to me again. “You already showed us your armpits.”
    Tim laughed nervously and avoided Katie’s eye. “Whaaat? That was stretching.”
    But Katie was too busy looking at her watch. “OMG, I’ve gotta go! I promised I’d do a guest lecture in Home Economics.”
    â€œLecture?” I repeated. “On what?”
    â€œFashion, of course!” Katie tweaked my nose with her fingers. I kind of wanted to tweak hers with my fist.
    â€œWow!” said Heather. “That’s really amazing. You’re like a kid genius.”
    â€œOh, stop!” Katie giggled. “I’m just talking about what I know.”
    Brooke raised an eyebrow. “V, I think you’re going to have some fierce competition tomorrow.”
    â€œThat’s right! You better bring your A game, sister,” said Katie, touching me for the hundredth time. “Well, I’d love to keep basking in the gorgeous glow coming from this table, but I must be off to spread wisdom. Au revoir! ”
    â€œHuh?” Brooke said as Katie pranced away.
    â€œIt means ‘good-bye’ in French,” I said.
    â€œHow do you know that?”
    â€œIt’s a long story,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heather smile.
    In Journalism, the topic on everyone’s mind? The advice-off. After Mrs. H addressed issues with the issue, we talked about the morning’s event. People congratulated Brooke and Tim, weighing the odds of each win (nobody thought either of them would lose). Then the attention turned to me and Heather. Before anyone could start placing bets, I raised my hand.
    â€œCould we please talk about something other than the advice-off? We still have a paper to put out, don’t we?”
    Mrs. H smiled. “Vanessa does have a point. Let’s get some ideas going for our next issue. Mary Patrick?”
    Mary Patrick nodded and uncapped her marker with a loud pop, pen poised at the board.
    â€œFront page?” she called over her shoulder. “What are you working on for this