Sky Meridian's Arc

Chapter 1 of 6

The town style contest closed sign-ups Friday, and Sky Meridian had nothing to submit. She wanted to win it with a handmade outfit, one that showed off her rainbow hair and her whole loud heart. But the entry form demanded a design sketch, and her page was still blank. She sat at the outdoor table by her pool, string lights buzzing above her, and tapped a pencil against paper that refused to fill. Four days. That was all she had left. Every idea she started looked flat. She drew a dress, crossed it out. She drew a jacket, crossed that out too. Her fluffy tabby cat, its stripes running through every color, hopped onto the table and sat on the ruined page. Sky laughed and lifted it aside. "Not helping, buddy." The cat leapt down and darted toward the greenery at the edge of the yard. Sky followed, mostly to escape the blank paper. That was when she saw the squirrel. It sat frozen on a low branch, its fur throwing off tiny flashes of light. Glitter clung to every hair, so the whole animal sparkled like it had rolled through crushed jewels. Sky stopped breathing. She had never seen anything shimmer like that in daylight. The squirrel twitched, then bolted. It ran along the fence, past a tall window set into the wall of the neighboring tower. The glass caught the afternoon sun. Soft pastel colors spilled through the leaded patterns—pink, green, pale gold—arranged in curling shapes and small flowers. The squirrel's glitter and the window's colored light struck her at the same instant. Sky ran back to the table. She grabbed the pencil and drew fast, before the picture in her head could fade. A fitted bodice, cut into panels like the sections of that stained glass. Each panel a different soft color. And over all of it, scattered like the squirrel's coat, a spray of glitter that would flash when she moved. Her hand did not stop. She sketched the sleeves, the hem, the boots she already owned. The design pulled her rainbow flair together with the window's gentle glow. It looked like something she would actually wear. It looked like something that could win. The cat returned and pressed against her leg. Sky filled in the last line and held the page up to the light. This one she would not cross out. She carried the sketch inside and clipped it to the entry form. She wrote her name, the date, and signed at the bottom. Three days early. The blank page was gone, and a real design had taken its place. But now the sketch made a promise she had to keep. A drawing was one thing. Turning it into fabric, panels, and glitter that held together was another. Sky looked at the small pile of scrap cloth on her shelf and knew it would not be enough. She needed materials, and she had no idea where to find colors like these.