"Is it ever coming, Mommy?" I ask, not leaving my spot from by the front door. I'm waiting for the latest issue of "Agreste Fashion Monthly" to arrive, and it feels like its taking forever. When your a little kid, a month really does feel like forever.
Mommy turns to Grandma who is over for tea and explains. "Marinette loves looking at the pretty dresses, but even more she loves to copy the patterns." Grandma looks at me. "Is that so?" I stand up and shuffle my feet. "Well, I'm not every good yet, but what I want more than anything to be a fashion designer." Mommy gives me a smile. "What about helping your father and I in the bakery?" "Well…" "I'm just teasing, dear. I think I heard the mail."
Of course Mommy is the one to open the door, because I'm still to short to reach the handle. "It came, Marinette. I know you'll take good care of this," Mommy says. She hands me the magazine with all its glossy pages.
Carefully I carry it to the kitchen table where I have my crayons, markers, and paper all ready to go. You can never be to prepared! I flip open the front cover and there's Adrien Agreste, Gabriel Agreste's son. He's so handsome, but his eyes have a kind look to them, different than other fashion models. Maybe one day will be friends.
Grandma scraps a chair back. "May I look at the pretty pictures too, my fairy?" Grandma asks. I giggle and slide the magazine between us so we can both look at the same time. "Of course, Grandma. After all, you were the one who teach me how to sew."
I still get frustrated sometimes, when my stitching becomes uneven. Grandma says to be like a ladybug, walking along the flower stalk, taking my time. If I hurry, I'd fall off and have to try again.
Slowly, I began to trace the first dress, my small tongue poking out in concentration. "I've seen someone so young so focused," Grandma says, admiringly. "Marinette knows what she wants to do. She's lucky."
Grandma strokes her chin. "I have a idea, Marinette. If you can do ten lines of even stitching, I'll take you to Mr. Agreste's shop. Would you like that?" I answer her by flinging my arms around her, giving her a hug.
Every time I have a free moment, I'm working on stitches. Daddy says I'm as focused as a cat, with a piece of string dangling back and forth in front of its face.
Sure, I have a few hiccups, (a couple even sent me to my room, and I told my frustration to my cat pillow) but I keep trying.
Finally, three weeks after I made the deal with Grandma, I'm ready to go. My hands are stiff and sore, but the excitement of seeing Mr. Agreste's shop makes it all worth it.
When we enter the shop, its like entering another world. A nice lady at the front counter hands me a cookie in shape of a black cat. "It even has a curled tail!" I giggle in delight.
"The ladybug cookies are my favorite," a voice says from behind me. I spin around, holding my precious cookie. My bluebell eyes go wide. "Your-your Adrien Agreste!" I squeak. "Pleased to meet you…?" "Marinette. Sorry, I want to be a fashion designer like your dad," I tell Adrien shyly.
"Well, Father's with a client right now. I could show you around." As Adrien talks, his green eyes mesmerize me and I feel a wave of peace wash over me. How does he do that? I ask Grandma, who says its fine, but I must stay in the shop.
In turn for Adrien's kindness, I break the cookie in half, offering it to him. The maniquins with their jeweled gowns, and dresses with ribbons and sequins tower over us. I feel a lump in my throat. Will I ever create works of art like these?
Adrien takes me to the rack of hats, and we have great fun trying them on, even if most of them are to big for me!
Adrien and I peek into a room, where many ladies are sewing on machines, and I can hear them talk in gentle voices over the hum and whir of the machines. What fun these ladies must have coming in to work everyday, creating things from their imagination. Adrien puts a finger to lips and closes the door quietly. We must not disturb the ladies or his father will be very upset.
A ways down, I see a tall man and a beautiful lady with blonde hair, the color of buttercream. "That's my mom and dad," Adrien whispers, slipping his hand into mine. My cheeks burn red at his touch, and I'm thankful for the dim lighting the store provides.
The lady looks up when she hears us whispering. "Adrien, honey. I've got a question for you." Adrien and I walk over to them.
"Do you think this should be worn on the shoulder or off the shoulder?" she asks her son. She demonstrates both of ways. Before Adrien can respond, I shyly say, "I think its nice off the shoulder, but wear your hair down with a slight curl at the end."
Mr. Agreste rubs his chin, thinking. "I love that idea! Your very talented for one so young…" "Marinette," Adrien answers, smiling at me. "I want to be like you, Mr. Agreste. A fashion designer."
"Its a lot of hard work, but I can see you have a creative mind, Marinette. Maybe I'll be buying clothes from you one day," he says, his Grey eyes twinkling.
Wow! Adrien rests his hand upon my shoulder, and its weight is warm and comforting. "Awesome job." Adrien takes a piece of paper from his pocket and tears it into two pieces. "Can I have your number? Maybe we can play together while Mommy and Daddy are at photo shoots."
Little do I know this boy will be my best friend someday. I smile as I scribble down my number. "Marinette, time to go!" Grandma calls.
I look back at Adrien one more time. "See you around, Princess." I wave back, already missing him. After awhile, My Prince.
