Fair Fashion Read online

  Mr Finlay turned the music down a little, and announced, “Now a huge thank you to the organisers of tonight’s fashion show – Maya, Emily, Izzy and Poppy! And our special guest, India Kell!”

  Maya’s mum grabbed Maya and Emily and pulled them up the steps on to the catwalk.

  Maya blinked at the lights. Everyone was clapping! And she could see a red light on the TV camera – they were filming this bit.

  “Wave!” Poppy muttered, and Maya did as she was told. She really couldn’t believe they’d organised all this. And it had worked!

  Her mum hugged her at the end of the catwalk, and the others too. “I’m so, so proud of you,” she whispered in Maya’s ear, and Maya nodded, and smiled up at her gratefully.

  “Me too…”

  The dance part of the evening after the interval had gone really well, even though Emily had been so buzzed by the success of the fashion show that she very nearly danced off the edge of the catwalk.

  “It’s not the same shape as a stage, that’s all!” she muttered, when Maya asked her afterwards if she was OK. “I’m fine! Katie once did a pirouette and slipped right into the front row, at least I didn’t do that.”

  “The man from the local paper took loads of photos of you,” Izzy told her encouragingly. “Not the bit where you – er – wobbled, don’t worry!”

  Emily sniggered, forgetting about her near-fall. “I love your mum, Maya. Didn’t you see, that reporter was going to leave at the interval, but she wouldn’t let him, she kept steering him about and making him talk to people, and then your dad actually stood in front of the doors to the hall with his arms folded, he looked like he was proper security, and the man didn’t dare walk out!”

  Maya grinned at her. This was what she’d been worried about – everyone at school finding out who her mum was and telling her how much they loved India Kell. But not because she was so scary people wouldn’t dare leave halfway through a fashion show… Then her face flattened, and the others turned to see what she was looking at.

  Izzy took a deep breath, and Maya nudged her encouragingly. “Remember you’re still in charge!” she hissed, as Ali and Lucy and Elspeth walked up to them. But Ali’s dad was following, Maya noticed. And he looked surprisingly nice and normal for someone whose daughter was so mean.

  “You’re the girls who organised all this, aren’t you,” he boomed cheerfully. “Fantastic effort! Great idea! Ali’s been so excited about it – she’s hardly talked about anything else for the last fortnight. This lot just wanted to say thanks for letting them be involved before I take them home.”

  “Really?” Maya asked, smiling sweetly at Ali.

  “Mmm.” Ali went pink, and muttered something that might have been “Thanks” before all three of them scuttled away.

  “Now I can die happy…” Emily said, gazing blissfully after her.

  “Me too.” Maya nodded.

  “We ought to go and help your dad wash up all the coffee stuff, Izzy,” Poppy sighed. “But there’s a secret leftover biscuit stash,” she added, brightening up. “I hid one of Mum’s tins.”

  “Excellent, I’m starved.” Maya flung an arm round Poppy’s shoulders. “If I wash up, will you feed me biscuits?”

  The friends laughed and headed off to help with the clearing up. It had been a brilliant night!

  “Good morning, everyone!” Mrs Angel looked around the packed school hall during assembly the next day and smiled. “I hope everyone who attended had an enjoyable time at the fashion show last night.”

  Maya looked sideways at her friends. They’d all gone as pink as she had, and Izzy let out a nervous giggle.

  Their head teacher continued. “I thought it was excellent! I want to thank Maya, Izzy, Emily and Poppy for all their hard work and for teaching us so much about such an important subject. And I’d like the recipe for your delicious biscuits, girls! We haven’t counted all the money you raised yet, but I thought you’d like to know that I spoke to the head of the governors earlier and I’ve got some good news. After such a fantastic effort, we have decided that the school should do its bit for fair-trade. So we’ll try our best to source the school uniform ethically from now on.”

  Everyone cheered loudly, and Maya hugged Poppy, and then Izzy and Emily too. “We did it!” she whispered. “I can’t believe we actually made Mrs Angel do something!”

  Mrs Angel raised her hands for silence. “I will let you know how we get on. But for now, I think everyone deserves a big round of applause, don’t you?”

  As the four friends walked back along the main corridor to their classroom, chatting delightedly, a splintering crash echoed somewhere round the corner. Mrs Angel’s voice rang out behind them. “Toby! James! Come here right now!”

  Emily groaned and tried to hide her face in her sweater. Maya laughed. “Do you think we could convince Mrs Angel to let us have sweatshirts with hoods? Then you can disappear every time your brothers get into trouble.”

  Emily sighed. “It’s worth a try. I never thought school would listen when we started all this, and look what we’ve managed!” She grinned. “We need to use our powers for good, Maya. I vote that now we campaign for a fair-trade chocolate machine in the playground…”

  COPYRIGHT

  First published in the UK in 2014 by Nosy Crow Ltd

  This edition published in 2021

  The Crow’s Nest, 14 Baden Place

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  ISBN: 978 1 83994 017 0

  eISBN: 978 1 83994 018 7

  Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks

  and/or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd

  Text © Holly Webb 2014

  Cover and inside illustration © Owen Gildersleeve 2021

  The right of Holly Webb to be identified as the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of Nosy Crow Ltd.

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