Teen Millionaire : Elle McGraw

Opportunity

"You can't be serious."
Sherm sat at the big table in the work room of Crafty Chic. He was anxiously shuffling and reshuffling a deck of cards while I went over my supplies for the party one last time. Sherm's mom had taught him how to shuffle cards as a way of channeling extra energy into something productive. If his campaign manager gig didn't pan out, Vegas might be his calling.
"It'll be fine," I assured him. "It's not like Taylor's going to do anything to me in front of her mom."
Mrs. Bancroft had emailed me the day before telling me it was a garden party theme. She asked me to put together whatever I thought we'd need from the store, and have Mom let her know the total. I offered to bring it along with me to save her a trip out to pick everything up.
"Be reasonable, Elle." Sherm cut the cards and performed a neat riffle shuffle. "Taylor doesn't change her ways for anyone."
"Least of all for me, you mean." I knew that's what he was thinking.
"You just got people on your side, Elle. Getting pulled onto her turf means you're giving her back the upper hand." Slide shuffle. Another riffle shuffle. "She wants people to know she's still in charge. You'll just be one of her minions."
Boys don't understand the power of one fashion achiever over another. Taylor was a terrible artist. I knew that from years of elementary school art classes. And her handwriting looked like scribbles. No way could she out-design me. She needed me in her inner circle.

I double checked the bag with the paints and tucked in the booklets I'd made of quotes and phrases. Mom had let me make each girl her own booklet on Mom's binding machine. Sherm, wise person that he usually was, had decided that my designs needed a name and a logo if I was going to start doing custom work. If you're going to make a splash, he'd said, you've gotta start with a cannonball.
A few hours of brainstorming and Glory's graphic design skills later, I had a catchy name and logo for my designs.
Inspire Wear by Elle. Glory had woven a swirly I, W, and E into a stylized flower for my logo.
I picked up the Crafty Chic tote bag and slung it over my shoulder. "Aren't campaign managers supposed to be supportive?" I asked. Why did Sherm have to rain on my ticker tape parade? It had been such a whirlwind last few days. And not the usual I've-lost-another-election-when-will-I-ever-learn whirlwind. For once.
"Campaign managers are the voice of reason," Sherm replied. Kenchi shuffle. "Taylor never does anything that's not in her best interest."
"This IS in her best interest, Sherm. She knows I have a two-week waiting list for stuff. This bumps her friends to the top of the list."
Riffle shuffle. Waterfall shuffle. Corgi shuffle. Sherm's stress shuffling was increasing in speed.
"What's in it for you?" he finally asked. "What's the return on your investment? I'm not seeing the value for you. For Taylor, but not for you."
"To give Taylor's followers a voice of their own," I said, smooth like butter. "That's what's in it for me. Would you rather they continue to be her sheep?"
Sherm's hands paused mid-shuffle. I had him, and we both knew it. No one wants to encourage a generation of sheep.
But it was only partly the truth. There was also, if I'm being completely honest, a teeny tiny part of me that wanted to take advantage of tonight. This long-awaited chance to hang with Taylor and her crowd again, to be accepted instead of ridiculed. I can admit it; I was excited.
Sherm would've called it desperate. I called it making the most of an unexpected opportunity.
I said goodbye to Sherm with a promise to text him and Glory when I got home, even if it was late. They'd lived through the last few years of pain and suffering with me after the divorce. Plus, they'd helped me get Inspire Wear off the ground. They were as invested in my success as I was.
When Mrs. Bancroft had said it was a garden party, I didn't realize she meant she'd transformed their spacious family room into an indoor garden paradise. Potted plants lined the walls. Flowering ivy-covered trellises had been brought in as room dividers. I didn't know where they'd found all these flowers in bloom in the middle of winter, but the smell was pure heaven.
"Elle, welcome!" Mrs. Bancroft ushered me inside as the wind blew wisps of snow in the door. "It's so nice to see you again. We've missed you around here," she added warmly. "You're just in time. May I take your coat?"
"Thanks, Mrs. Bancroft." I set down the tote bag and Taylor's artfully bagged present-thanks to Aunt Mo-while I shrugged out of my coat.
"Do you need some time to set up?" she asked.
"When did you want to do the Inspire Wear part?"
"Whenever you're ready, dear." She gestured to the tote bag. "Did your mother send along an invoice for me? I'll have your check for you at the end."
I gave her the envelope, feeling a little weird talking about money with Mrs. Bancroft. This was the same woman who once took me home in the middle of the night because I forgot my favorite stuffed animal and couldn't get back to sleep without it.
"I'll let Taylor know you're here," she said, showing me the way to a large table with a floral tablecloth.
I could hear that some of the girls had already arrived and were upstairs in Taylor's room. A room Glory and I had spent countless hours in with them once upon a friendship. When Taylor had banished me, Glory had left out of solidarity. That's the kind of person Glory was.