Fashionista

Chapter 8

☆Happy☆ ♡Valentine's♡ ☆Day☆ to everyone. Wishing you guys all the love this season.

After another weary day at school, I head to work. My body is tingling with excitement at the possibilities of today.

I make my way to the gigantic building where I now work, Fashionista. The guard in charge takes one look at me and nods his head. I quickly barge ahead into the building where I fortunately run into Mrs. Martins.

"Amelia Sanders, you're twenty minutes early. Good start." She says checking her silver-plated wristwatch.

She quickly gives me a well-practiced lackluster smile and nods towards the hallway, motioning for me to follow her.

The hallway is filled with about 15 people, adults precisely. Seeing this, I start biting my fingers and picking at my blue blouse.

"Ahem."

All eyes turn to face Mrs. Martins and I. She looks on, confident and in charge while I feel like disappearing.

"This is Amelia Sanders, she will be undergoing training here until she's done with her high school. I expect all of you to accord her the same respect you all give yourselves. Work with her and give her help when necessary." She says.

To me, she adds, "You will be working with Vanessa, she will show you around the building. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask her. She's one of the best employees here."
Mrs. Martins finishes and introduces me to Vanessa.

"Hey Amelia, you'll be working with me. Come, let me show you around." She says and holds my delicate, bony hand with her firm, well-manicured own, taking me to the elevator.

I see so many clothes and designs, there are replicas of the clothes celebrities wear. I smile genuinely at every single one, I dream of making these clothes everyday.

As we go on, I observe Vanessa to be free-spirited, determined and loud. She introduces to every co-worker, some seem to be nice, a few are indifferent and others come off as annoying.

Suddenly, Vanessa stops halfway through the first floor of the building.

"Vanessa, why did we stop?" I inquire. I'm beginning to enjoy her endless chit-chat.

"This is the first dress I made here." She says, pointing to a black-lace
knee-cut gown.

"It's so beautiful." I remark. "I really wish the first dress I truly create would be half as nice as this. I love the design and neutrality."

"Thanks. Once you get the hang of it, it's not so hard. Just learn well and you'll be good to go."

We go downstairs and meet a middle-aged woman with the receptionist. It seems she's here to get a dress.

"I need a dress for my daughter's 18th birthday party tomorrow. Can I get it here?"

"Of course, you can." Vanessa says and mouths 'watch and learn' to me. That's what I'm here for.

She takes the woman to the boutique on the first floor.

After refusing so many clothes, the woman suddenly says, "There are no good clothes here, why did I even listen to the recommendation?"

I notice how Vanessa's body stiffens at the remark. Slowly inhaling and exhaling, she replies, "You haven't seen everything here yet, ma."

"I believe I have seen enough. I will be on my way now. I can't find anything that I like." The woman says and struts away from us complaining while going in the wrong direction.

Before we can tell her that, she exclaims, "Wow, now this is the dress I'm looking for."

We walk to the woman and see that she is gushing over Vanessa's dress. Vanessa smirks and flips her hair over her shoulder while I struggle to keep a deadpan expression.

"This dress is my creation, ma. Thanks a lot, let's go to the cashier. The dress will be packaged there as well."

The woman walks in long-legged strides with Vanessa, eager to get away. We get to the cashier where she pays and leaves.

"Well, that was a rude customer. I'm glad she bought a dress though." Vanessa says.

"Me too." I say. "So what's my training going to be?"

"Amelia, you're going to learn how to sell clothes, and how to make them. So you'll be sticking with me for a while."

Vanessa begins walking to the elevator and I leap into action, feet hammering the marbled floor. We go up another floor, the top floor.

"This is where the clothes are made. After they are made, Mrs. Martins checks them for improvement and if they are okay, we sell them." Vanessa says proudly.

"Oh, that's great. Are these designs for the employees here?" I ask, pointing to the various designs decorating the walls.

"Yes, they are. You know, some here went to the Fashionista school, like Courtney. You must have seen her." I nod at this, blonde hair, tall and graceful.

Later on, I watch as other buyers come in and go out with a dress or two. Vanessa said I could make a design and show her later. I decide to do that at home.

My co-workers make little conversations with me, trying to make me feel welcome and accepted. For that, I'm really grateful. Soon, work is over and I begin to head home.

"Amelia." I turn, the voice and face is familiar. I squint my eyes until I see Cole coming towards me.

"Hey, how are you doing?" He asks.

Smiling, I reply, "I'm just great. What's up with you?"

"Nothing really. I'm just going home after a long day at work. You're going home right?"

"Yea. Could you walk with me for a while?" I almost instantly cover my mouth, instead I smile to hide my embarrassment.

"Sure, no problem. I was about to suggest the same thing."

As we walk and talk, I notice how he dawdles along like he isn't ready to go home yet. I really don't mind though, I like the company.

"So you want to become a designer?"

"Well, yes I do. It's my passion and I intend making it a dream job as well."

"That's nice." He says simply. I notice how he stares at me, but I say nothing. I kind of like it.

"What about you? What do you want to do?"

"I want to go into catering, I love the smell of flour and the smell that comes from a well-done job."

We stop as we realize I'm in my front porch. He takes a few steps back and I can't help it as I knit my brows together.

"Goodnight, Amelia. I will call you later."

"Good night, Cole." I say as he strides away.

I get into my room before I realize that he doesn't have my number. Bummer.

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