by Joy Elbel
I tried not to sound as bummed out as I felt but I was going to miss her fiercely. “That’s great, Rachel. I hope things work out exactly the way you want them to in Florida. I really mean that.” But even as I said it, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “But I’m really going to miss you.”
Her cheerfulness drained and was replaced by a slight pout. “Aw, Ruby! Don’t get me started! I’m going to miss you, too. You’ll always be my bff, though—you know that. We haven’t known each other long but I’ve had more fun with you than I’ve ever had with anyone else.”
Now I really wanted to cry. “We have to spend as much time together as possible before you leave for Florida. When exactly are you leaving?”
“The first week of August. We’ll have two whole months over the summer to get into as much girl trouble as we can handle. Plus, track starts next week so we’ll be hanging out together almost every night after school for the rest of the year. Don’t worry—by the time I leave, you’ll be on Rachel overload and you’ll be glad to see me go.”
Well, we both knew that was a lie. But all we could do for now was pretend that it was the truth and change the subject. What better subject than Zach? Where was he anyway? He told me that he was riding to school with Rachel but he was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Zach? You did know that you were giving him a ride this morning, right?” A stupid question perhaps considering that they lived in the same house and fought over the same bathroom every morning but sometimes Rachel got distracted easily. She was a “shiny object” kind of girl. It was super easy to picture her driving away from their house and fiddling with her CD player while Zach ran behind screaming her name at the top of his lungs. The bell was about to ring and there was still no sign of him. I checked my phone quickly to see if he’d sent me an SOS text that I didn’t notice. Nope. Nothing. He had to be around somewhere, but where?
“Don’t fret, my pet! Romeo is safe and sound in the principal’s office,” Rachel proclaimed just as Mr. Raspatello closed the door and began calling role.
“The principal’s office?” I didn’t even realize how loudly I’d shouted it until Mr. Raspatello stopped talking in mid-sentence and shot me the stink eye causing everyone in the room to turn and stare at me. Once the room went back to normal, I repeated that phrase in a whisper. “The principal’s office? Who did he beat up this time and why aren’t you upset about it?” Of course the second those words were out of my mouth, I knew exactly whose face Zach would most want to grind into the pavement. Lucas. My heart sunk past my stomach and all the way down to my new pair of red canvas wedges.
“Don’t panic, Ruby! Zach isn’t in any kind of trouble this time. He’s actually trying to raise some money for the shelter and he wanted to see if Principal Lascher would let him hold a dog show here at the school.”
“A dog show? What a brilliant idea! I have the smartest boyfriend in the world!” Not only was he not getting into fights now, he was channeling his energy into something positive. If the incident between me and Lucas had happened even just a few months earlier, he would have totally blown a gasket and been in jail for sure right now. Zach had matured so much in such a short period of time. My heart shot its way up to my chest and nestled back in where it belonged.
“I know, right? If I applied myself, I could be just as smart as he is. I’m totally going to buckle down and do my best once I get to Tallahassee or whatever college I end up going to. Mom and Dad are so proud of me—I think they thought that being with Boone was the only thing I was interested in doing for the rest of my life. It’s helping to take some of the heat off of Zach, too. OMG, he and our dad really got into it again last night, though. I hate it when they fight!”
“I know—me, too.” I sat there at my desk in silence for a moment as I remembered the awful yelling I heard coming from their house before I drove away last night. What would it take for his dad to see that Zach really was making the right decisions for himself? Maybe Zach would never be a millionaire like he could have been if he hadn’t given up on football, but veterinarians made good money. And he would be doing something he loved for the rest of his life. Why did money always seem to bring out the worst in people? Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea. I couldn’t make Zach’s dad change his mind about the football issue but there was something I could do to help out the situation. The second I got home from school, I would run the idea past Shelly and see if she agreed with me. Before I could share my idea with Rachel, Mr. Raspatello tossed a hall pass onto my desk.
“Here, Ruby. Brooke Morgan is going to meet you in the library this morning so the two of you can get started on setting up the Black Raven Society. I know that you’ve busy with all of your strange extracurricular activities but you’ve dragged your feet for too long. I need the two of you to have a good plan worked out before class today so that you can share them with everyone else. Good luck.”
And cue the giant eye roll. I really was excited about the Black Raven Society—it was the perfect way to honor Garnet’s memory. What I wasn’t excited about was spending time with Brooke. The more I thought about it, teaming up with Petra, the foreign exchange student, didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. At least Petra wasn’t super competitive and didn’t cry when I won the creative writing contest. But it was too late to switch partners now, so I begrudgingly slid out of my seat and set out to meet Brooke.
Unlike my daily trips to the school library back in Trinity, I hadn’t spent any time in the library here since my days of tracking down Garnet’s identity months earlier. As soon as I walked in the door, I remembered why. Ms. Wrong. There she sat at the counter, lips pursed tightly together in a disapproving manner. She gave me a sideways glance, her eyes like light sabers cutting through me. How dare she look at me like that! She was the one whose petty jealousy caused her best friend to commit suicide. She was the one who disposed of Garnet’s suicide note so that no one would know the role she played in it. The only thing I did was expose the truth— something she should have done herself years ago. If she was going to hate me for that, she simply had no conscience whatsoever. She was nothing but a homely old sociopath as far as I was concerned.
Brooke was seated at the table by the window—the same one I always sat at when I used to come here alone. When she looked up and saw me approaching, she began to smile and wave me over to where she sat. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. I mean, for real, I’d survived way worse encounters than this, right? Still, even through her smile I could feel slight vibes of jealousy or something just as negative. I just wasn’t good with new people, especially after they’d already left a not so positive first impression on me. If only Rachel could be here to back me up on this. Wait a second. Rachel couldn’t be here but I knew someone else who could. Clay came to my rescue when Lucas paid me a visit at Something Wick-ed and I was going to put our connection to work for me again. I concentrated hard and whispered his name under my breath just as I reached Brooke’s table.
As I took my seat across from her, Clay promptly took a seat beside me. Without even thinking about it, I looked straight at him and said, “Thank you.”
“Oh no, thank you for picking me to work on this project with you. I’m super excited that you chose me to be one of the Founding Ravens. Do you like that phrase—Founding Ravens? I thought it sounded pretty cool.”
Clay laughed as I instinctively rolled my eyes. Again. This was a bad habit I was going to have to find a way to break. Someday I was going to roll my eyes at the wrong person and get clocked in the face. But I couldn’t help it. It’s not like I had control of it. I was just kind of at that point where immaturity really irritated me.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I replied, consciously keeping my eyes in check. Giggles erupted from beside me and I couldn’t help but smile. Having Clay around was like having an imaginary friend who wasn’t completely imaginary. Everyone is someone else’s secret—Clay was mine. So many times he’d made uncomfortable and even dangerous situations
easier for me to bear. He may have been a drug dealer while he was alive, but I just didn’t get the vibe that he had done anything more terrible than that. I was going to have to pump him for more information tonight. There had to be more to the story than what I already knew. There just had to be.
“So,” Brooke continued in a super chatty yet slightly fake voice, “Since I will be the president of the club next year, I already came up with tons of ideas. I came up with them weeks ago but Mr. Raspatello told me that I had to get your approval first.”
Cue another eye roll. And more giggling from Clay. At least I wasn’t looking straight at her when I did it. Why did I find her so irritating? And was that a hint of sarcasm attached to the word “your”? Or was I just overanalyzing this whole thing? I should be grateful that she took the time to work on what was essentially my project in the first place. I needed to just suck it up. I wasn’t going to be here next year anyway, so I really should just let her take control of the whole thing in the hopes that it would be better for the Black Raven Society in the end. But I was having a serious issue with that. Why? Because I was suddenly realizing that I had control issues I’d never known I had. I’d learned so much about myself since moving to Charlotte’s Grove and unfortunately, not all of it was good.
As I looked over her notes, she kept pointing out and over explaining things like I was a two year old. While none of her fundraising ideas were bad, they weren’t very original either. Car wash. How many million times had that been done? Sell candy bars. Yeah, there were at least two clubs selling candy bars at school at any given time. The entire graduating class was going to be diabetic before the ten year reunion. Bake sale. I always found those to be a little iffy. Not that I was a snob or a germaphobe, but I liked to know who baked those cookies before I decided to eat them. Flashes of the chocolate chip that for two seconds I thought was dog poop danced into my head. Yikes! And how long would it have taken for Zach to want to kiss me again if I’d accidentally consumed Mrs. Tuttle’s dog Mandy’s excrement?
The longer she talked, the louder and more annoying Brooke’s voice grew until I finally had to say something. “Shh! Ms. Wrong over there is going to throw the book at us any second now. Literally.”
“Who? The librarian?” Brooke replied without lowering her voice even a fraction of a decibel. “That’s my Aunt Stephanie—she really isn’t as mean as everyone thinks she is.”
O-M-G. Open mouth, insert well-heeled foot. I knew that Ms. Wright’s maiden name was Morgan but I never even dreamed that she and Brooke might be related. I should have realized that in a town this size, everyone was probably related somewhere along the line. Brooke was wrong, though—her aunt was meaner than most people would ever guess. I knew the truth about the things she did twenty years ago but I had to keep it to myself and find a quick way to backpedal around my faux pas. And I had to find a way to do it with Clay sitting beside me, laughing even harder than he was before. Instinctively, I launched my foot into what was supposed to be his shin in an effort to get him to stop. Of course, my foot instead sailed straight through him and into the leg of his chair. Was I ever going to remember that he wasn’t alive? Once he realized that I had meant to kick him and not the chair, he laughed so hard that I was afraid that the table might start moving. How would I explain that one to Brooke? On the other hand, a good old fashioned table tipping would keep me from having to apologize for insulting her aunt. Come on, Clay! You can do it—rattle that table just a little bit for me! Please?
I willed the table to move for about ten seconds but when nothing happened, I gave up with a sigh. It was time to apologize to a girl I didn’t really like for a comment that I stood behind one hundred percent. “Sorry, Brooke. I didn’t mean to offend you,” I said as sincerely as I could manage.
“Oh, that’s okay—I know most people don’t like her.” Brooke pointed to the last item on her detailed list of ideas. “This is the part I’m really excited about! What do you think of it?”
I took one look at the overly flowery script to which she was drawing attention and did my best not to roll my eyes. “Initiation ceremony,” it read. What did she think this was—a coven? A sorority? Quickly, I reminded myself that in a few short months I would be leaving this school forever. Swallowing my control issues, I told her that it sounded like a fun idea and that she should be in charge of it. She got so excited that I could swear I saw her eyes actually sparkle.
After enduring a few more minutes full of insane initiation ceremony ideas, the bell mercifully rang. Brooke rattled off something about not wanting to be late for her first period class and shot out of the library leaving me alone with Clay. As I gathered up my books, I thought about his situation and realized that I now had more information about how he died than he did. Now that I knew that his death looked more like a homicide than a suicide, maybe he would be more willing to discuss moving on.
“So, Clay,” I said in a whisper, “If you’re not doing anything after school, can you come over to my house? I have some new information about your death.”
“Well, I was going to meet Casper for a quick game of one on one before my date with that hot chick from The Ring, but I suppose I can reschedule for tomorrow,” Clay said with a totally straight face before eventually cracking up again at my expense. “Really, what kind of fascinating death do you think I lead, Ruby?”
Mental face palm. It’s a good thing Clay wasn’t sensitive about his situation because I certainly kept rubbing salt in his metaphorical wounds. Why couldn’t I seem to remember that he wasn’t alive? “Sorry! So I take it that you’re free to meet me then?”
“Free, yes. Looking forward to talking about the night I died, no. You know how I feel about that and nothing you have to say could possibly change my mind on the subject.”
“Oh that’s where you’re wrong—I have one word for you that will change everything,” I replied smugly. Unlike Brooke, I was in no hurry to get to my World Cultures class and was willing to risk tardiness just to mess with Clay’s mind for a little bit.
He eyed me suspiciously for a moment as though he was trying to decide whether or not I actually had something interesting to tell him. “Fine, you win,” he said with an air of exasperation, “What’s the word?”
I tried to drag the suspense out while I gathered my things but I just couldn’t do it. I was about ready to burst. He’d spent a year thinking that he committed suicide and I couldn’t let him think it for a single second longer.
“Murder!” I blurted out sharply then clasped my hand over my mouth. Ms. Wright bored holes straight through me with her beady little eyes but said nothing. Apparently, she was slightly afraid of me after finding out that I connected with her long dead friend and revealed the part that she herself had played in the events leading up to Garnet’s suicide. Not that I could blame her, of course. I would be afraid of me, too. In fact, some days I was still slightly afraid of myself. Why was I so epically weird? There was no use pondering it—I would never be normal but at least I could take advantage of those few moments when it worked in my favor like this one. With an air of confidence, I slung my bag over my shoulder and strolled past her desk. Like. A. Boss.
With a look of sheer horror in his eyes, Clay blurted that word right back at me. “Murder? Who did I kill and why do you seem so excited about it?”
For about the hundredth time just this morning alone, I offered him a giant eye roll—the kind that are so intense that it feels like you are in danger of losing them forever somewhere within the far reaches of their sockets. “No, dummy! You were the victim not the perpetrator!”
While I was pretty certain that he was clueless regarding the definition of the word perpetrator, he clearly understood the first part of what I said. His jaw dropped visibly and it took him a while to respond. “Hol-ee hell! You think somebody killed me? Who? And why?”
As I opened my mouth to answer him, the second bell rang and I was still half a hallway away from where I needed to be. “I can’
t talk about it now. Go do whatever it is ghosts do when they aren’t haunting me and we’ll talk about it later. I’m late for my morning nap in World Cultures. I’ll call for you when I’m ready to discuss the details.”
“Just like a woman—you drop a major bomb on me and then tell me that I’ll have to wait until you’re ready to talk about it! Wow, Mason sure has his hands full with a little dominatrix like you.” This time I was on the receiving end of a giant eye roll. He shook his head, grinned, and disappeared.
Before heading in for my nap, I considered my new title for just a moment. Dominatrix. I kind of liked the sound of that. I cracked my imaginary whip into the spot where Clay had been standing and smiled to myself. Feeling in charge of my life was nice for a change. I could get used to that.
As soon as I got home, I went in search of Shelly. The sweet scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls led me to the kitchen and straight to her. Meeting the Masons had a profound effect on my life and not just in the friendship/relationship arena. Zach’s mom had managed to do the impossible—teach my stepmother how to cook like a pro. Seriously. It was hard to believe that less than a year ago she was still finding a way to burn Spaghettios. Those things were gross enough to begin with but even worse once charred. And how long had it been since my last bowl of Lucky Charms? I forgot all about sugary cereal once eggs and bacon found a permanent home on my plate. Then I realized something—in a few short months, I wouldn’t have Shelly cooking for me anymore. Or doing my laundry, either. I knew for a fact that Zach could keep us well fed but what about clean? Chores would have to be split 50-50 once we were living together so laundry would probably fall on my shoulders. And while I didn’t think Zach would mind wearing pink shirts and underwear every now and again, I was going to have to learn how to keep my overly red wardrobe from tainting everything he owned. Geez. I used to think that living on our own was going to be a nonstop date but reality was quickly setting in. Growing up wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.