Beacon Street Girls: Fashion Frenzy Part 10

Isabel leaned gratefully against one of the tall columns, tilting her head back to look up at the high ceiling. "You guys saved my life," she said. "He's been following me all day long."

"And doing what?" Charlotte asked.

Isabel groaned. "Telling me absolutely everything he knows about ancient Egypt. I mean, some of it was interesting, but he just wouldn't stop. It's like he drank ten cups of coffee or something. Oh! And get this! He keeps randomly using Spanish words that don't always make sense, like what a 'bonita idea'!" Isabel complained. "And he says my name with a Spanish accent."

Charlotte covered her mouth to keep from laughing. "Oh geesh!" Avery said, rolling her eyes.

"Tell me about it!" Isabel agreed. "He was completely in my way when I was trying to sketch. There are so many cool things to draw here, and I haven't been able to finish even one!" She threw down her bag, totally exasperated.

"Well, did you tell him to bug off?" Avery asked.

Isabel sighed. "I would have, but I was afraid I might hurt his feelings. I'd hate to do that. I tried to give him hints, but boy, he just doesn't get it! And to think, I was looking forward to this trip so much."

"So wait, he really spoke Spanish?" Charlotte asked.

Isabel closed her eyes and shook her head. "Oh you should have heard him. There are American ducks who speak better Spanish than him."

Avery started to giggle, and soon Charlotte and Isabel joined in. The thought of Danny trying to impress Isabel by speaking bad Spanish to her was hilarious. Soon Isabel felt herself slowly regaining her usual upbeat att.i.tude...now that her friends were nearby and Danny wasn't.

"We probably shouldn't stay here for too much longer," Charlotte said when they'd finally stopped laughing. "We need to get back to our group."

Avery flattened herself against the wall and peeked cautiously around the corner. "Uh-oh," she reported. "Danny's pretending to look at the dioramas with scenes of the Nile and pyramids."

"And he'll keep looking at them until Isabel shows up again," Charlotte said grimly. "Well, we can't stay here forever. And what about our teachers? Ms. R and Ms. Weston will be worried about us."

Avery cracked up again. "I'll bet Ms. Rodriguez won't even notice we're gone...she's probably too busy trying to find Ms. Weston!" The other two girls burst into laughter again. Poor Ms. Weston was never going to live down her reputation for being "lost in s.p.a.ce."

Avery peeked around the corner again, but this time her eyes widened. "Okay, bad news! Danny's left the diorama and he's coming down the hall, right toward us! Abort mission!"

"We need to get out of here," Isabel said nervously.

Avery looked down the long corridor. "Hey, there's an open door," she said. "Come on, let's hide in there!"

Before the other girls could protest, she'd seized each one by the arm and hurried them into the dim room. Avery quickly pulled the door in behind them, leaving it open a crack.

"Whoa!" Charlotte said in a delighted voice, when her eyes adjusted to the low light.

Isabel looked around and her face erupted into a smile. There must have been some kind of storage room, because it was big, but crammed full of neat Egyptian objects. In the center of the room was a long wooden table, and on top of it were parts of various mummy cases and a number of small items with paper tags on them-hand mirrors, gold-plated combs, and tiny spoons. There were also charms made of gla.s.s and others of semi-precious stones. Earlier that day, the docent had told them that the charms were called amulets.

"Look at all this!" Isabel exclaimed. "These must be new additions to the collection or maybe things that need to be repaired. This is better than being in the main rooms! I'll bet no one except the museum personnel ever gets to see this. Oh, I've got to sketch that!"

"What?" Charlotte asked.

Isabel pointed at a funny-looking charm in the shape of a bug. "It's perfect. It's so tiny and unique. I think they call it a scarab. Danny told me the Egyptians were very fond of scarab jewelry."

"See Izzy, Danny did have some useful information," said a grinning Charlotte.

"Let's invite him in," joked Avery.

"Don't you dare," warned Isabel. "This'll just take a minute and then I'll have something to submit to The Sentinel." She leaned her sketchbook against the edge of the table and turned the charm just so to capture the light. Isabel quickly flipped to a blank page and began drawing.

"Um, Izzy, I don't want to make you nervous, but..." Charlotte slowly tilted her head in the direction of a large mummy case resting against the wall.

Isabel's eyes widened. "I really don't think we should be in here," she said. "Come on, let's just go."

"Okay, don't panic," Charlotte said as she inspected the mummy. "It's sealed shut! We have nothing to worry about."

"Besides, Danny's still out there," Avery reminded her. "Wouldn't leaving kind of defeat the purpose?" Avery had made one circle around the storage room and now was on her knees by the door peering through the keyhole. "Don't worry. Danny will get bored in no time. There's barely any art in this hallway! I'm sure he'll leave soon."

She pulled over a straight wooden chair and sat down next to the keyhole. "I'll be on Danny patrol. Go ahead and draw, Iz, but make it quick. I'll let you know when the coast is clear."

So Isabel drew, Charlotte paced, and Avery stood guard. They definitely had NOT planned on spending their field trip hidden in a dim, dusty storage room! The real question was, when would Danny disappear?

CHAPTER.

13.

A Scare in Times Square

Even though she had been to New York before with her parents, today Maeve stood in the middle of Times Square feeling like a clueless tourist. She couldn't get used to all the people bustling around her. No one looked at anyone else as they rushed around, and she was sure that they'd crash into each other at any moment. Everyone, it seemed, was somehow comfortable on this frenzied city street-everyone except her.

Maeve felt totally out of place, from her att.i.tude to her outfit. Half of the people she saw wore stark black dresses or suits, and the other half were in casual jeans. These were the clothes she'd rejected as either too old-fashioned or not special enough for New York!

Maeve prided herself on her edgy fashion sense, and the feeling that it had just deserted her-along with Katani and everything else-right in the middle of the world's most fashionable city was almost too much for her.

Okay, Maeve, get a grip, she told herself. At least I have the address of the Teen Beat offices. There HAS to be someone around here who can tell me how to get there!

She looked around doubtfully. At mid-morning, finding someone she could trust to direct her to the magazine's offices looked like a tough job. She could hear her mother's voice in her head cautioning, "Maeve, whatever you do, do not to talk to strangers!"

She clutched her big bag closer to her. It had become so heavy that it felt like a bar of iron on her shoulder, but she wouldn't be able to stand it if someone grabbed it away! It was the last thing she had that made her feel even slightly normal. Why had she insisted on wearing a pink jacket, of all things, and pink boots, which were killing her feet? Was she sticking out like a sore pink thumb? People were probably thinking to themselves, Yikes! That girl must be from out of town!

Stay cool, stay focused, Maeve reminded herself. The problem was she couldn't-she was too nervous. A thousand thoughts were buzzing through her head: Should I find a phone? Should I ask someone on the street for directions? Should I call my dad? Should I call Teen Beat ? Should I find a policeman? Should I do all of the above?

Finally, after taking a few deep breaths, she decided to find a store and ask the people who worked there to help her out with directions. It was a public setting, and plus, the people who worked right in Times Square would surely know their way around. Maeve ducked into a store that sold candy, newspapers, and hot drinks and immediately headed for the counter.

The woman behind the register was surrounded by customers. Her hands moved like lightning. She'd take a bill and press a b.u.t.ton, and then a bell would ring, and in a moment the woman's hand would reach out with the perfect change. With a nod, she would turn over the money and receipt, all in one blurred movement. Maeve tried to wait for a lull, but she was quickly learning that there was no lull in New York City.

After waiting patiently for a minute, she finally got her chance. "I'm lost. Could you please tell me how to get here?" She slid the paper with Teen Beat's address across the counter in front of the woman.

The woman quickly blinked at the paper. "Oh, yeah. That's a block over and one block down from here. Walk down a block, turn left at the corner and then it's on your left."

"What?" Maeve desperately tried to understand the clerk's directions, but her rapid-fire delivery made that impossible. "Could you please repeat that just one more time?"

The woman looked aggravated. As she opened her mouth, at least a dozen people approached the counter at once, s.n.a.t.c.hing up papers, asking for coffee, and holding their money out so they'd be served next.

Maeve knew she couldn't compete with the store's hurried customers. Not only did they know exactly where they were going, but they actually had money for the cashier. She went back to her business and Maeve was back to being LOST. What was she going to do now?

Maeve was considering getting a cab to take her directly to Teen Beat, no matter what it cost, when she heard a male voice behind her say, "Pardon me, are you lost, young lady?"

Maeve whirled around. She was surprised to see that this helpful stranger was not only young and polite. He was...well, absolutely dreamy!

The man stood tall with a slim frame. His chestnut hair fell around his face at just the right semi-long length and matched a pair of deep, dark eyes and high cheekbones. He paid for a copy of the New York Times, and instead of pocketing the change, he dropped it all-bills included-into the tip jar.

Maeve was unaware that she hadn't responded until the dreamy man repeated, "Are you lost? Maybe we can help you." It was then that she noticed his soft British accent. Somehow his accent made him seem less like a stranger and more like a chummy friend you would invite over for tea, she thought. She looked at his face and felt like she had seen him before, but she couldn't put her finger on it. For the first time since Katani disappeared, Maeve began to feel a little safer. She even managed to smile.

He smiled back. Maeve felt her heart make a ka-thump in her chest.

"Thank you, sir," she said, feeling more confident. "I am a little lost. I'm looking for this address." She showed him the paper.

"Oh, what a coincidence!" piped up a female voice next to him. Maeve turned to see a slender young woman at his side. She too had a British accent. Her light blond hair was stylishly cropped to her chin and her clothes were fabulously mod. Next to these people, Maeve began to feel a bit babyish in her ultra-pink ensemble. "We're headed to the very same place! Are you going to the Teen Beat fashion show too?" Maeve stared. She couldn't believe it. That was the last thing she expected to hear.

There was no way that this could be some kind of trick. How else could they possibly know about the fashion show? "I'm Bea, by the way," the woman said with a warm smile.

"Let's get out of this madhouse, shall we?" the man said kindly to Maeve. "It's getting awfully crowded in here, don't you think?"

Maeve hadn't noticed. To her, everything in New York seemed crowded. As they made their way out of the stuffy little store, she noticed that everyone they pa.s.sed stopped what they were doing to stare at her. No-not just at her, but at...well, at all of them! Why? she wondered. Maybe they were trying to figure out how two ultrastylish people ever got mixed up with a girl wearing all pink and toting around a gigantic bag made out of a rug!

Oh well! thought Maeve. She was willing to chance looking out of place if these super cool Brits could point her in the right direction.

"Now look," said the man in his delightful accent. In the light of day, Maeve thought he looked even hunkier! "We're going to the exact same place as you. And it's not far at all. You can come with us if you like."

Maeve stood uncertainly. They did seem awfully friendly. Even though her instincts told her she could trust them, Maeve wished she had some sort of solid proof.

It was as though Bea could read her mind. "Hold on a moment! I have something in here about the show, I think." The woman opened up her tiny designer handbag and fumbled around inside. "Ah-ha! Here we go!" Triumphantly, Bea produced a lavishly printed invitation to the Teen Beat Magazine Fashion Show. Maeve had seen one just like it on Mich.e.l.le's desk that morning. Apparently, they really were going to the fashion show.

"Well, what do you think?" the man asked with another smile. "The only thing that could get in the way between us and this show are these New York street signs. Even though they do number the streets so cleverly, I still get lost. I've always been a dreadful mess when it comes to math and numbers," he confessed. Bea laughed and Maeve also found herself smiling. Maeve thought she should practice a British accent-it sounded so delightfully delightful!

"All right," Maeve said cautiously. But she told herself she'd stay a few feet behind them, just in case.

Maeve soon became genuinely comfortable. Bea and her friend thoughtfully gave her plenty of s.p.a.ce as she walked slightly behind them up the street. Truth or dare, Maeve thought that she should be ready to run in case they turned out to be kidnapping alien terrorists sent from the mother ship to bring a certain red-headed girl back to the planet Urg to teach everyone about hip hop dancing. But instead, the friendly couple would turn around every once in a while to give her an encouraging smile and tell her how bewildering they found New York.

"It's just awful to be a stranger in a new city," Bea commented. "I get so confused!"

"Totally!" Maeve agreed. She completely understood how they felt.

Bea stopped and pointed out a modern, gla.s.sy building. "But look! I do think we've actually made it!" She looked up at the building and checked the number against her invitation. "Yes, here we are."

Maeve felt a wave of relief. Was it possible that she, Maeve Kaplan-Taylor, had reached the right place? And she had done it, basically, as an independent girl. After a long and overwhelming morning, Maeve finally began to feel like her optimistic self again. How wonderful to be in New York! she thought as she gave her red mane a toss.

As they started toward the lobby doors, Maeve was convinced that everyone was turning to stare at them. What was going on? Did she really look so out of place that sophisticated New Yorkers would stop what they were doing and gape at her? Maeve remembered the man with the snake outside the subway station and thought, there have to be crazier looking people than me in this city!

But for sure, these people were staring at something.

CHAPTER.

14.

"Hitch Your Wagon to a Star."

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson Before they took three steps into the lobby, a security guard seated behind a large paneled desk stopped them. "Names, please?"

"Maeve Kaplan-Taylor," Maeve said hesitantly. "I'm not sure I'm in the right place."

"Oh, Ms. Kaplan-Taylor, they are waiting for you upstairs," he said with a look of concern. Maeve's stomach flip-flopped. She hoped she hadn't caused too much trouble by getting lost.

The security guard looked down a printed list on his desk. "You're here for the fashion show, correct?"

"Oh yes!" Maeve confirmed with a smile.

"All right, Ms. Kaplan-Taylor. Here's your badge," he said smoothly. "You're all set. It's on the twenty-ninth floor."

Maeve took the badge and thanked him. When her two companions stepped up behind her, something very strange happened. The security guard didn't ask them a thing. Instead, he smiled warmly and said, "Well now. Good morning. Welcome. Here are your VIP pa.s.ses. When you get to the twenty-ninth floor, someone will be there to a.s.sist you."

"Thank you," said the man. He took the badges and led Bea and Maeve to the elevators. Maeve was surprised that the British couple wasn't asked for their names, as she had been, but she supposed they'd been here before.

Maeve felt the stares again as she crossed the lobby. When they walked by, people stopped mid-sentence and pointed. How embarra.s.sing! She was about to go into a real New York fashion show, and her fashion statement was a flop!