Material Girls (36 page)

“Thanks, Aiko,” she said. Feeling a swell of love, she grabbed Hilarie's and Naia's hands. “You guys are kind of the best.”

Her boyfriend approached, flanked by his brothers and a cluster of satyrs. Danny Angel looked so cute, sipping a Sugarwater, a coonskin cap on his head.

“They say it's time,” he said.

It had been a genius move of Keane's to steal Danny away from Lyric. “You're channeling animal wildness now,” Keane had said to her, his arched eyebrows coming together in seriousness. “You follow the laws of the jungle. That means taking the best lion in the pride for your mate.” She had repeated the phrases in her interviews with the gossip magazines. To make things even more delicious, the rumor Keane made sure the magazines spread was that Lyric was a prude. Danny had left her because he, too, wanted a lioness.

Almost overnight, Ivy watched Lyric lose popularity in the fourteen-to-eighteen-year-old demographic. Her record sales were slowing. It had been almost too easy.

Ivy tilted her head to the side and watched Danny's dimples pucker as he sipped. He was so sweet. Of course, he was also a year and a half younger than she was, and his voice hadn't fully changed yet. The two of them wouldn't be sharing any smoldering kisses anytime soon.

She turned to Hilarie. “One more.”

“You won't forget what you're supposed to—”

“Jeez, she'll be fine.” Madison grabbed the tin and shoved another P pill into Ivy's mouth. “We're right behind you, Ivy.”

Ivy took Danny's arm and he led her onto the carpet. They stopped and posed for the press. So many camera flashes, like the twinkles on a mirror ball. All for her. The butterflies were doing their part, flapping in the light. She looked prime. Keane and Madison said so. She knew so. She stared down the cameras and stretched her smile as wide as it would go.

After a generous minute, they continued toward the small group of people who were gathered at the entrance. Ivy stumbled slightly on her heel as they approached, but Danny held his skinny arm firm and she steadied herself.

In front of the double doors, a red ribbon tied in a giant bow was suspended between two standing brass posts. A couple of Torro-LeBlanc representatives met her behind the ribbon and shook her hand. The latest crop of Superior Court judges stood proudly in a line behind them. Ivy didn't recognize any faces—but then again, she never did.

A blond judge stepped forward and handed her a giant pair of scissors. Ivy wasn't expecting them to be so heavy, and she struggled to get a firm hold. Again Danny came to her rescue, grabbing the scissors and supporting them so she could simply rest her hands on top of his. Her grip was strangely unreliable these days.

“Oh.” Before she made the cut, she was supposed to recite the lines Keane had made her memorize. She looked out into the crowd. “This is a great day. Torro-LeBlanc is one of my favorite designers. They've designed the looks for my
Wilde Kingdom
tour.” Her voice sounded unusually loud. Had she been miked? She couldn't remember.

“Thirty-one cities, sold out,” Danny added on cue.

Keane had told her to lower her eyes at this point, bat his arm, and say, “Oh, Danny.” Instead, she couldn't help it. She let out a giggle. “Yup, that's right.

“I want to . . .” she continued. What was the next part? She paused. It wasn't her fault she couldn't remember. Her brain felt so mushy.

She heard Madison's voice whispering in her left ear. “You want to congratulate—”

“Oh, right, right. I want to congratulate Torro-LeBlanc on its new flagship store. I kind of can't wait to go in and check out the prime trends.” There. Almost done.

She and Danny opened the scissors wide around the ribbon and posed for more shots.

“One, two, three,” Danny whispered.

“Ready, set, shop!” they shouted together.

The giant scissors made the slice.

Everyone cheered, the crowd a colorful blur of fashionable fans.

Ivy couldn't believe she had ever wanted more than this.

She remembered the past couple of months hazily. What had she been thinking? Wearing old clothes was gross, not prime. And the environment . . . well, they were doing so much already. Cleaner fuel. Recycling and all that. The earth would be fine. Like Miles Jackson said, she was an artist. Her job wasn't to save the world. It was to entertain billions of people.

She shifted her weight from one stiletto to the other. Her family was probably watching proudly from home. She didn't need to visit them. She'd done more for them with her fame than she could ever do in person. The three of them could take a first-class vacation together. Thanks to her. And her parents could afford to send Constantine to the top shrink in Millbrook. Lots of Adequates turned out okay—like that nice doctor she'd met.

Besides, how could she be lonely? She beamed at her nymphs, standing to her left, mingled with Danny's satyrs. Madison caught her eye and gave her a small wink. They had all been through so much. Just like family, her nymphs and Keane would do anything for her.

She was, indisputably, the number one pop star in the world. She was wearing butterflies. Every eye in the crowd was fixed on her, studying, admiring, and envying her. She had it all.

“Stay young!” she called to her fans.

For more information on sustainable clothing and ethical manufacturing practices:

W
eb
R
esources

The Clean Clothes Campaign, dedicated to improving working conditions and supporting the empowerment of workers in the global garment and sportswear industries:
cleanclothes.org

The Council for Textile Recycling, whose goal is to achieve zero textile waste going to landfills by 2037:
weardonaterecycle.org

The Environmental Protection Agency's statistics on textile waste:
epa.gov/osw/conserve/materials/textiles.htm

Etsy, the online marketplace for handmade and vintage items:
etsy.com

Green America's National Green Pages for consumers:
greenpages.org

The IndustriALL Global Union, which represents 50 million workers in 140 countries, including textile, garment, and leather workers:
industriall-union.org

The Institute for Global Labour and Human Rights, which promotes and defends human rights, and specifically women's, and workers' rights, in the global economy:
globallabourrights.org

SMART, the Secondary Materials and Recycled Textiles Association:
smartasn.org

B
ooks

Bartoletti, Susan Campbell.
Kids on Strike!
Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1999.

Leonard, Annie.
The Story of Stuff: How Our Obsession with Stuff Is Trashing the Planet, Our Communities, and Our Health—and a Vision for Change.
New York: Free Press, 2010.

Walker, Rob.
Buying In: The Secret Dialogue Between What We Buy and Who We Are.
New York: Random House, 2008.

Material Girls
would never have become a book without the help of so many. Enormous Greek bear-hug thank-yous to . . .

• the Associates of the Boston Public Library, who generously provided the space, time, and resources to complete the novel;
  

• the incomparable Margaret Raymo, who gave
  Material Girls
  the best kind of makeover, and everyone at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for bringing it into the world with so much care and attention;
  

• Edward Necarsulmer IV, agent extraordinaire, who guided the journey with infinite wisdom, patience, and resolve;
  

• the members of the Saint Botolph Club, especially Kathryn Lasky, for encouraging my writing in its early days;
  

• the fabulous Griper girls, Jane Kohuth, Kirsty McKay, Sonia Miller, Jean Stehle, and Laura Woollett, who read every word of
  Material Girls
  and urged me on;
  

• my writing partner, Amitha Knight, for accountability and friendship;
  

• my mentors at Simmons College, including Cathryn Mercier, Susan Bloom, Hannah Barnaby, and Jackie Horne, who taught me what children's literature is and what it could be;
  

• the incredible writing community at Grub Street, especially Christopher Castellani for bringing me on board;
  

• my parents, who gave me the best of everything, and my brother, Tom, for not teasing me too much about writing in cafés;
  

• and finally, Nicholas, who brings me joy every day, and John, the finest copilot, counselor, and champion I could hope for.
  

E
laine
D
imopoulos
is a graduate of Yale, Columbia, and Simmons College, where she earned an MFA in writing for children. Currently, she teaches children's literature at Boston University and is also an instructor for Grub Street. She served as the Associates of the Boston Public Library's children's writer-in-residence, during which time she wrote
Material Girls
. She lives in Massachusetts with her family.

Visit her website at
www.elainedimopoulos.com
.