One of Those Hideous Books Where the Mother Dies

by Sonya Sones

Then I climb into his bed,

  settle myself among the satin pillows,

  close my eyes,

  and try to picture

  what will be happening in this very room

  on November 25th.

  Dear Lizzie,

  I’m starting to panic. I haven’t heard from Ray or you since the day before the dance. That was six days ago! I hate this. What happened at that dance? Did Ray finally fall for Amber? Is that why you haven’t written to me? You can’t bear to break it to me? Come on, girlfriend, give it to me straight.

  Anxiously yours,

  Ruby

  Time

  Sometimes it just sort of flits by

  like a bright-feathered bird

  on its way south for the winter.

  Other times

  it’s like in those movies

  when people fall in love,

  and in that first moment,

  when their eyes lock,

  the hands on all the clocks freeze.

  The last ten days,

  it’s been more like

  in one of those nightmares

  where I’m running and running and running

  to escape from the monster

  but, somehow, I’m not moving forward …

  Each school day lasts for eons.

  Then I rush home to check my phone machine

  and my e-mail box and my snail-mail box.

  But every day they’re empty.

  And every day feels twice as long

  as the one before it.

  At this rate, I’ll be a hundred years old

  before I hear from Lizzie.

  Or from Ray.

  I Didn’t Think I’d Actually Do It

  But the auditions for Pygmalion

  were after school today.

  And even though my mind said

  okay, it’s time to go home now,

  my body refused to head outside.

  Instead, it dragged me up the stairs

  right into Barnum Hall

  with Wyatt and Colette

  and all the other kids.

  And even though my mind said

  well, all right, we’ll watch for a while

  but we’re not going to audition,

  my body lunged forward

  and dragged me straight up the aisle

  and grabbed the pencil

  and signed my name on the list

  and took the number the drama coach handed me.

  I didn’t think I’d actually do it,

  but when my number was called,

  my body climbed the steps to the stage

  and my mouth opened up

  and read all the lines aloud.

  I didn’t think I’d actually do it.

  But now I’ve done it.

  And my body is entirely to blame.

  When I Get Home from School

  There’s a message on my phone machine.

  I play it back.

  It’s from Ray!

  Relief washes over me like warm rain.

  He says, “I really wish you were there, babe.”

  Then he says, “I need to talk to you.

  About the Thanksgiving plan.

  Call me back tonight, Dooby. Okay?”

  Wow!

  Suddenly his visit seems

  so real.

  And so close!

  I’ll be with him

  only a week from today.

  I’m grinning wider than wide,

  just thinking about it.

  I punch in his number, breathless.

  But his line’s busy.

  So, I start playing back his message,

  over and over again.

  “I really wish

  you were there, babe …

  I really wish

  you were there, babe …”

  Suddenly, My Phone Rings

  I grab it and answer, “Ray?!”

  There’s a short silence

  on the other end of the line.

  Then I hear Lizzie’s uncertain voice, “Ruby … ?”

  “Wow, Lizzie, it’s you!” I say.

  “Shouldn’t I call you right back, though?

  Didn’t The Evil Stepmom say

  you weren’t allowed to call long distance?”

  “No,” she says. “It’s okay.”

  That’s when I notice

  that her nose sounds stuffed.

  “Is everything all right, Liz?”

  Silence.

  “Lizzie? Have you been crying?”

  Still no answer.

  “Lizabeth … ?”

  “Well, yeah,” she finally sniffs. “I have.”

  Then she says in this real wavery voice,

  “Ray was supposed to be

  the one to tell you, but—”

  Ray?!

  My heart hurls itself against my ribs.

  “Oh, no …” I say.

  “It’s Amber, isn’t it?”

  Another silence.

  Then, “No, it’s not Amber,”

  she says with a heavy sigh.

  “It’s … it’s …”

  But she can’t seem to get herself

  to say whatever it is out loud.

  “Come on, Lizzie,” I plead.

  “Just tell me.”

  “Oh, Ruby,” she finally moans.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen …”

  And suddenly,

  all the blood in my body freezes.

  I know what she’s trying to tell me.

  “It’s you, isn’t it?” I whisper.

  “Yeah. Me,” she says, bursting into sobs.

  “I’m so sorry, Ruby. So, so sorry …”

  I listen to her crying for a few seconds,

  then I hang up the phone,

  and shatter—

  like a windshield in a head-on collision.

  My Phone Rings Again

  I just lie here on my bed

  and let the phone machine answer.

  This time it’s Ray:

  “Ruby, babe … ? Aw, Dooby, please pick up. I

  know you’re there … This mega-sucks. I just got

  off the phone with Lizzie. I hope you don’t

  hate me … Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it would be

  better if you did hate me … Geez. I feel like

  such a complete scumbag.”

  He waits for a few seconds,

  as though he’s hoping I’ll pick up.

  Then he mumbles good-bye and hangs up.

  And for the first time

  since I’ve been in L.A.,

  a cloud rolls in front of the sun,

  turning everything

  that’s warm and gold—

  cold.

  And Suddenly—It’s Raining

  Finally raining!

  And the drops seem in a hurry

  to fall from the sky,

  rushing down in angry sheets,

  shoving each other out of the way

  to be sucked up first by the parched ground.

  It’s raining.

  Finally raining!

  And if this had happened yesterday,

  nothing could have kept me from running

  outside and doing a wild barefoot dance

  in the wet grass.

  It’s raining.

  Finally raining.

  But I don’t feel

  one bit like dancing.

  Not now.

  Not ever again.

  I Used to Love the Rain

  The way it filled the air

  with the musky smell

  of earth,

  the way it painted

  the streets

  with glistening neon light,

  the way it turned

  the inside of your Mustang

  into a snug cocoon.

  Now

  I hate

  the rain.

  I hate it

  for reminding me

  of that nigh
t last summer

  when the rain

  licked at my lashes

  while your lips covered mine.

  I used to love the rain.

  You used to love

  me.

  I’ve Got This Insane Urge

  To call up Lizzie right now

  and tell her what happened.

  Because this is exactly the kind of disaster

  she’s so brilliant at helping me through.

  She knows just what to say.

  And not to say.

  Just what to do.

  And not to do.

  Lizzie’s always been there

  to help me survive my disasters.

  But this time,

  Lizzie is my disaster.

  Who’ll help me through this one?

  Whip Calls Me Down to Dinner

  I make a feeble attempt to get up,

  but my heart’s so heavy

  it’s got me pinned to the bed.

  When I don’t come down,

  he comes up,

  and taps lightly on my door.

  When I don’t answer,

  he opens it a

  crack and sticks his head in.

  I guess I must be deeply splotchy,

  or maybe I look like I’ve been hit by a truck,

  because when Whip sees me

  his hand flies up to his mouth,

  and he takes a step toward me,

  like he’s thinking about hugging me.

  But when he sees the look I shoot him,

  he stops in his tracks.

  Just stops and stands there staring at me.

  Like I’m the scene of a hideous accident.

  I am so not in the mood

  to deal with him right now.

  “Leave me alone,” I say. “Just go away.”

  But he comes over anyway,

  and sits down next to me on my bed.

  “I heard the phone ring.

  Must have been some pretty bad news …”

  He puts his hand on my arm, but I pull away.

  “Want to tell me about it, Ruby?” he asks,

  with his annoying concerned-parent look

  plastered across his face.

  “Do I appear to want to tell you about it?”

  “Well, no,” he says, searching my eyes.

  “I guess you don’t.”

  Then he says, “I remember when I was fifteen—”

  But I cut him off in mid-sentence, hissing,

  “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

  He sighs, and stands up, saying,

  “The important thing to remember is

  that you won’t always feel this awful.”

  How the hell does he know how awful I’ll feel?

  Why does every word he says make me feel

  more and more like strangling him?

  He heads toward the door, then turns and says,

  “If you change your mind about talking,

  I’ll be right downstairs.”

  “Get out!” I scream.

  “Get out! GETOUT!”

  So he does.

  And the totally psychotic thing is that as soon as he’s gone

  I almost feel like calling him back.

  Calling him back,

  crawling into his lap,

  and pouring it all out.

  Just like I used to do with Mom.

  I’ve Been Lying on My Bed for Hours

  Staring up

  at the folds of lace

  draped across the canopy overhead.

  There were a few minutes there,

  when I thought

  I was actually going to start crying.

  My eyes felt like

  these two raging rivers

  about to flood their banks.

  But the feeling passed.

  Now, I’m way splotchy,

  but at least I’m numb—

  as if my heart’s been Novocained.

  I’m Just Lying Here

  Still staring up at the lace,

  when suddenly it starts

  quivering and shimmering,

  morphing into a safety net.

  And I’m swinging high above it,

  inside a circus tent,

  holding on to two silver chains,

  somersaulting through the air,

  a blur of upturned faces watching from below.

  Then the blur comes into sharp focus

  and I spot Lizzie and Ray grinning up at me

  with their fingers woven together.

  And suddenly,

  my own fingers lose their grip on the chains.

  Or maybe I just let go …

  And I’m tumbling and tumbling

  through air thick as water,

  crashing toward the safety net below.

  And that’s when I notice a furry tail,

  curlicueing in the air behind me.

  And I suddenly realize that it belongs to me!

  That I’m one of those tiny acrobat monkeys,

  from my recurring dream.

  And I’m howling just as loud.

  But even so, I can hear the man’s voice,

  the man with the nice, warm, dry hand,

  saying, “I’ll keep you safe.”

  I can hear him,

  but I can’t see him.

  I can only see the safety net,

  see it falling into pieces

  as the ground races toward me

  and—

  that’s when I wake up.

  7:00 pm

  I’m still zombieing,

  sitting here on my bed in the dark,

  just listening to the rain,

  when Max brings up my dinner on a tray.

  He switches on the light,

  takes one look at me,

  and says,

  “The first time hurts the most.”

  Then

  he reaches out to hug me,

  and I flop against him

  like a rag doll.

  Morning After the Rain

  It’s the first blue sky,

  I mean truly blue sky,

  that I’ve seen since I’ve been here.

  It’s as though someone’s taken

  a giant toothbrush to it

  and brushed away all the plaque.

  The view’s been magically transformed.

  There’s an entire mountain range out there

  that I’ve never even seen before!

  I fling open the window and breathe in deeply,

  filling my lungs

  with great huge gusts of clean.

  You’d think this would cheer me up.

  But it doesn’t.

  It just makes me miss my sky back home.

  Which gets me thinking

  about Lizzie and Ray again.

  And about what they did to me.

  And when that happens,

  my heart slows,

  then stops beating altogether,

  and sits in my chest like a clenched fist.

  He Loves Me

  He loves me not.

  He said he did.

  But he was lying.

  I love him not.

  I just thought I did, because he

  must have put me under a spell or something.

  And I bet I know exactly when he did it.

  It was on the night we first met.

  He was telling me this long involved story

  about this time he got stuck in an elevator.

  And then,

  right in the middle of his sentence,

  he forgot what he was saying.

  He just stood there staring into my eyes,

  with this dreamy smile on his face,

  as if he’d suddenly been struck dumb

  by my incredible beauty,

  as if he couldn’t concentrate

  on what he was saying because I was

  such a vision of distracting loveliness …

  As if h
e loved me.

  But he loves me not.

  And he never did.

  Dear Mom,

  How are things six feet under? JK. They’ve got to be better than they are here. My life is a train wreck. Ray dumped me for Lizzie. A week ago today. You never trusted that scuzball. Why didn’t I listen to you? And don’t even get me started on Lizzie, that mega-skank …

  Well, I hope both of them choke on their giant Tic Tacs and that while they’re choking and grabbing their throats, while they’re turning three shades of purple and trying to give each other the Heimlich maneuver, while their eyes are rolling up into their heads and they’re gasping in vain for their last breaths of air, that they’ll be thinking of me and how they betrayed me.

  You don’t think that’s too harsh, do you, Mom?

  Love u 4 ever,

  Ruby

  There’s Been a Blizzard in Boston

  And the Weather Channel’s

  been rubbing it in.

  24/7.

  They keep on showing

  all these real irritating clips

  of twinkling snowdrifts

  and frosted forests.

  They keep on showing them.

  And I keep on watching them.

  I just can’t seem to get myself

  to switch off the TV.

  I’ve been sitting here glued to the screen,

  on the couch by the window,

  with the sun streaming in on my head

  practically giving me heatstroke.

  I’ve been sizzling here,

  savoring the memory

  of the soft sweet sting

  of snowflakes melting on my cheeks.

  And the way

  the whole world

  just seems to white

  to a halt.

  I’ve been simmering here, with the sun streaming in on my head,

  remembering

  the delicious suspense

  of sitting with Mom listening to the radio

  in the early morning after a snowfall

  and the miracle of hearing my school’s nam

  on the no-school list!

  If I have to see one more

  deliriously happy kid building a snowman,

  I swear I’m going to put my foot

  right through the TV screen.

  No Wonder I’ve Lost My Appetite

  When I’m barely touching my breakfast,

  Lizzie and Ray are eating lunch,

  sitting alone together in the cafeteria

  at that little table over by the window,

  where Ray and I always used to eat.

  And when I’m staring at my lunch,

  Lizzie and Ray are walking home from school,

  his hand stuck deep

  into the back pocket of her jeans,

  the way he used to walk with me.

  And when I’m picking at my dinner,

  Lizzie and Ray

  are writhing around