The Allegra Biscotti Collection

“I think I’m going to be a vampire,” Kayla announced the next day by Holly’s locker. “My mom said she could have one of the makeup artists from her company do my face for the party—you know, white skin, charcoal around the eyes, long fake lashes, and blood-red lips. How cool would that be?”

“What are you going to wear?” Lexie asked.

“Who cares?” Kayla replied. “My makeup will be killer— literally!” she giggled. “Ivana, did you decide on your costume yet?”

“A Hollywood starlet,” Ivana said smugly. “Very retro, you know…early sixties Marilyn Monroe glamour. I’m borrowing my mother’s low-cut black gown, and I bought some superlong white leather gloves. I’ve already booked a blowout.”

Emma tried not to eavesdrop, but that was technically impossible with her locker next to Holly’s and the ’Bees overflowing into what little space she had. She was shocked to realize that Halloween was this Saturday. She’d been so focused on her deadline. And she was kind of surprised that she hadn’t heard about Kayla’s Halloween party.

True, she had been ditching lunch in the cafeteria to spend it in the library in a desperate attempt to keep up with her homework, but she realized she must have totally tuned out life at Downtown Day to miss something so obviously huge on the school’s social barometer.

“What about you, Holls?” Ivana asked.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe an angel or a devil or something like that. I was going to go shopping after school at the costume store near my apartment, if anyone wants to come.”

Lexie and Shannon said they’d join since they were still undecided. The bell rang, sending Ivana and her entourage sauntering to class. Holly hung back.

“You’re coming to the party, right?”

“Maybe.” Emma gathered her things, closed her locker, and headed down the almost empty hall. Holly was two steps behind her.

“Emma, you should totally come to the party,” Holly urged. “I bet with all the cool things in your closet you could put together an outrageous costume.”

“I didn’t think I was invited. Besides, it doesn’t seem like Ivana and the ’Bees want me there.”

“Of course, you’re invited! Everyone’s invited!” Holly protested.

Emma stopped and turned to face Holly. “Really? I know I’ve been busy and all, but I don’t remember getting an invitation— or even hearing anything about it before a few minutes ago.”

The encouraging smile faded from Holly’s face. “Well, um, technically? You weren’t invited like separately or anything because everyone assumed you’d be coming. None of us got invitations either. Plus I can bring whoever I want because I’m practically co-hosting the party. And according to me, you’re invited. Technically.”

Emma was confused. But she had a feeling that was exactly the reaction Holly was going for as a way to cover up the technical lack of invitation. “Well then, thanks, I guess.”

The smile instantly returned to Holly’s face. “So does that mean you’ll come? You wouldn’t want to miss another chance to hang out with Jackson now that you guys have actually spoken, would you?”

At the sound of his name, Emma remembered the feel of his shirt against her cheek during the assembly the week before. Holly didn’t even know that Jackson had walked by Emma’s locker the other day and actually said hi to her—in front of a couple of his soccer buddies.

“I’ll try,” Emma hedged, knowing that she would need a miracle—beyond the already huge one of discovering Marjorie could sew and was teaching her how to deal with the more complicated seams—to give her enough extra time to figure out a costume and be able to spend a whole night at a party, away from her sewing.

Holly’s eyebrows knitted together. “That’s it? You’ll ‘try’? I just don’t get it, Em. You know, I’ve really put myself out there with Ivana, telling her how cool and awesome you are, but you do nothing to show her any of that. You don’t even try. You act like you’re all superior or something. It puts people off, Emma.”

Emma stiffened. Was she really acting that way? Or was Holly bending the truth? I’m acting like I’m superior to Ivana? Oh, please. How was that even possible? Who’s the one with the fan page for herself? Emma was dying to ask. Not me!

“Look,” Emma started, trying not to let her voice shake, “if you want to hang out with Ivana and all of them, just go ahead and do it. I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“But I want to hang out with you, too,” Holly said. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?” She shifted on her feet. Her expression hardened ever so slightly but just enough for Emma to notice. “Look, if our friendship means something, you’ll come to the party. Besides, Em, it’s going to be fun. Remember fun?”

Feeling guilty, although for what she wasn’t exactly sure, Emma relented. “Okay, okay. I’ll go. For you.”

“Good,” Holly said, her face softening again.

“Happy now?”

“Yes. I am.” And for the first time in weeks, Emma could see the old Holly—the real Holly—in her eyes.

For the rest of the day, Emma found it impossible to concentrate in her classes. Her body was so tired from staying up late, hand-sewing the detailed trimmings, that she felt almost weightless. Her foot tap-tap-tapped under the desk, anxious to press the pedal on the sewing machine and get back to work.

Emma opened to a fresh page in her sketchbook, as the rest of her world history classmates chatted before Ms. Lyons arrived, and made a list of the things she still needed to do before Monday. Delivery Day.

Construct dress and sew in zipper

Sew jacket lining (collar, cuffs, box pleat)

Attach vest lining with interior slit pockets

Sew dress lining (slit, belt)Add buttons to vest and jacket

“Wearing costumes isn’t my thing,” Clayton Vanderbeck said, and Emma tuned back in. “Maybe I’ll go to Kayla’s party dressed as me.”

“That would be a scary disguise,” teased Meghan Mahon, who definitely had a thing for Clayton. She giggled. “Or you could be a soccer player.”

“Yeah, that would totally work since you’re already pretending to be one on the field!” one of the other guys said. Everyone laughed, and the guy began ribbing Clayton about how he messed up a game the day before. Emma tuned back out. She sketched the vest button placement on the corner of the homework sheet she’d actually managed to complete the previous night.

“Hey, you going?”

Jackson Creedon. He was looking right at Emma with those eyes. Those amazing blue eyes. And talking to her.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” she said.

“Cool.”

“Are you?” she ventured, not wanting their second conversation to end—ever.

“Yeah.”

“Class!” Ms. Lyons called out as she entered the room. “Let’s get started.”

Emma felt as if she were really filled with helium, hovering high above the classroom. Not only did Jackson specifically ask if she was going to Kayla’s party, but also, and maybe more importantly, he thought it was “cool” that she was!

She couldn’t wait to tell him about how she’d read—well, looked at—Night below the Surface. We’ll have so much more to talk about than the last time, Emma thought happily. She pictured them standing on the terrace at Kayla’s apartment, maybe a moon rising over the city as the party went on inside. She’d be wearing that adorable fringed flapper dress she’d picked up at the vintage store last year—and that