He asks “Hello?” a second time, in a space of silence too small for me to have responded anyway. He sounds anxious. He wants to assume it’s me, in the lobby, waiting for him. He wants this to be real.
The third time, he says my nickname. Rubes. The hairs prick up on my arms. I hang up and run back toward my bike and pedal home as fast as I can.
It’s Monday morning and Katherine is cross-legged on the floor of the hallway, crying. Beth is sitting next to her, with her arm laid over Katherine’s shoulder. I’m standing above them, clutching my books to my chest, and Maria is next to me, giving bold stares to the kids who slow down and try to sneak peeks of this unfolding drama. I’m the only one blushing from all the attention.
“It’s pathetic,” Katherine says, sniffling what sounds like large amounts of wet snot back up her nose. “My dad puts us all through the crap of him leaving Mom and moving into a new apartment, only to come back and start having sleepovers.”
Katherine’s definitely in the worst shape I’ve ever seen her in. And though it’s nice having someone else’s problems take the spotlight off my own, I’m also kind of freaked out by the whole thing. It’s like watching someone literally fall apart, right in front of you.
Beth looks up at me and a tiny smile crosses her face. She’s not alarmed. She’s seen this all before. “Ruby, do you have any tissues?”
“No, sorry,” I say. And I am. Katherine’s face is a big wet mess.
Maria digs through her tote bag and pulls out a tiny packet of leopard-print Kleenex. “Here,” she says, extending them with a warm smile.
Katherine takes them without saying thank you.
“Do you want us to get you something to drink?” Beth asks in a calm, even tone.
Katherine laughs. It’s a weird, uncomfortable, and totally inappropriate chuckle that makes my stomach seize up. “No, I want to tell you what happened.”
“Okay, okay. I just wasn’t sure you were ready to talk about it right now.”
Katherine rolls her eyes at Beth, as if she’s totally annoying her.
I can barely stomach looking at them both, so I focus on the two boys waiting in line for the water fountain. I hate that Beth is so into Katherine’s family issues, yet she didn’t even bother to call me at all on Sunday, which would have been the perfect chance to talk to me about Jim’s letter. It’s beyond my comprehension at this point what the heck is going on inside her head.
Katherine squints her eyes and rubs her temples. “I get up to have a shower this morning and who do I see but my dad coming out of our bathroom in a towel.” She empties her nose into a tissue and throws it onto the linoleum floor. “And I’m, like, ‘What the hell are you doing here? You moved out, remember?’ He’s got this hand-in-the-cookie-jar face on and then gives me the shhh sign. So I push past him downstairs where Kayla and Jared are watching some stupid video for the millionth time, and they both look at me and smile and Kayla shouts, ‘Daddy’s back!’”
“That’s awful,” Beth says with a big sad sigh. She takes a clump of Katherine’s hair in her hands. I can tell it isn’t clean. The blond looks dull, the roots clump together near her scalp, and the ends are stringy. Beth doesn’t seem to care because she starts to braid it, like she used to braid mine.
Katherine pulls a ponytail holder off her wrist and passes it backward. I can see her relax, even though my teeth are clenched so tight they start to squeak. “Meanwhile, my mom is cooking up this big breakfast in the kitchen, so I go in there and give her a piece of my mind.”
“What did you say?” I ask.
Katherine looks up at me, her eyes wide and intense. “I called her a whore. And I told her this is going to stop, and if she doesn’t put an end to it, I will.”
My ears ring through the few seconds of silence where Maria, Beth, and I all look at each other with gaping mouths. The three of us would never, ever say something like that to our moms.
“Whoa,” Maria finally says. “What did she say to that?”
“Not a word,” Katherine says, smiling with a glimmer of pride. “She just kept putting bacon down in the pan. That’s when I walked out.”
Katherine unfurls her legs, and I notice now that she’s still in her pajama bottoms. She doesn’t have socks on, even though her feet are stuffed inside a pair of dirty running shoes. She’s wearing a big, oversized Akron High basketball T-shirt, but as baggy as it is, I can still make out her silhouette underneath. She’s not wearing a bra.
“Listen, I’m going to just cut class or something,” Katherine says in a voice that now sounds extraordinarily bored. “I really don’t want to be here. Look at me.” She peers down at herself and her lower lip starts to tremble. She bites on it to make it stop and the pink turns to white.
Beth shakes her head. “No. Don’t cut school. Trust me, that’ll only make things worse. You need to keep your mind off things.” She fishes her hand around in her gym bag and pulls out a black wad of fabric. “You can borrow my sports bra. It’s clean.”
“I think I might have a pair of jeans in my car. They might be a little long on you, but they’re better than your pj’s.” Maria grins and Katherine manages a small but grateful smile. “I’ll drop them off at your homeroom,” Maria calls out as she heads toward the doors.
I don’t have anything to give Katherine. So I hold out my hand to help her up from the floor. “Seriously, go to class and try to forget everything for now.”
Katherine rolls onto her knees and stands up on her own. “This isn’t the kind of stuff you can just forget, Ruby.” She takes off down the hall, angry all over again. And I’m angry too. It’s not my fault she’s having family problems. Why’s she all mad at me?
Beth and I head toward our homerooms. As we walk, a few kids wave and tell us that they have really cool costumes in the works for Beth’s party. Beth is totally smiley and encouraging to everyone. But when we turn into an empty corridor, she snakes her arm into mine and pulls me down near her head.
“I’m really worried about Katherine,” she whispers.
“Don’t be,” I say. “It seems like she could honestly care less about your help.”
Beth shakes her head. “No. it’s just that she’s got a lot of anger and unresolved issues built up. The best thing we can do is help her deal with that on her own, before she does something she’ll regret.”
Beth’s right, but it only makes me feel lonely. If she was helping me deal with everything, I probably wouldn’t have gone to Jim’s hotel yesterday morning. Granted, she doesn’t know that I know about the letter at all … but still. She should know that I should know.
I grab hold of the straps of my book bag and make them as tight as I can. “What do you think she meant by, you know, ‘put an end to it’?”
“Probably nothing. She just wants her mom to know she’s upset.” Beth squeezes my shoulder. “Hey, listen. I wanted to talk to you about something. I meant to call you last night, actually, but I was still trying to figure a few things out in my head before I said anything.”
My heart swells up. I knew she’d say something. I knew it.
Beth takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “There’s been a big development.” When she opens them, she’s got on a huge smile. “Suzy surprised me with two bottles of raspberry vodka and a bottle of coconut rum! Can you even?”
“Oh,” I whisper. My thick skin turns paper-thin. Everything hurts, even the breeze of passing students.
“So I was thinking about moving my party out of the basement. Since there’s going to be a lot to drink, I figured if we were in the garage, we’d have more privacy and less chance of my parents hearing kids be all slurry or peeing in the washing machine or other stupid stuff like that. What do you think? Great idea, right? But this is going to change all the prep work I planned for the week. So could you come over after school today and help me clean out the garage? I’m reallllly going to need your help.” Her voice is a little bit whiny and she sounds just like her little sister Martha whe
n she asks for more juice. “Pleasepleaseplease?”
I open my mouth just as the warning bell rings. Beth smiles and turns away from me, I guess because she’s assumed I was going to say yes anyway.
The sad part is, I was. I don’t really have any other options.
I’m still in a daze as I walk through the school parking lot. Flanked by Maria and Beth, I pick up bits and pieces of their conversation about the new garage game plan. Word of the booze has traveled fast because a few kids from the drama department stop to ask if there really will be alcohol there. That reminds me, I’ve got to get started working on my Girl Scout badges. Maybe tonight.
We arrive at the Volvo. Maria starts the engine so we can play the radio in the parking lot. She goes around and lowers all the windows with the hand crank, letting the music escape into the air.
A voice catches in my ear, but it’s not from the speakers. Someone is shouting my name. I take a few tentative steps toward the front of the car, while Maria and Beth sit on the bumper and continue chatting.
Though I hear his voice again a second before I actually see him, it doesn’t make the first glimpse of him, wandering through my school parking lot, any less shocking. My book bag drops to the gravel and I fall forward, my hot and sweaty hands reacting just quick enough to prevent me from crashing into the hood. He passes between two parked cars, right in front of me, and shouts my name with a cupped hand.
I scurry back toward Beth and Maria, who are intensely analyzing the track list of a mix CD that Davey made Maria, and how for every romantic kind of song, there’s a friendship one to counterbalance it. Beth keeps shaking her head and saying “I told you so.”
“Hey, Beth,” I say. “We should probably get over to your house ASAP so we can get started on the garage.”
He shouts my name out again, this time louder than ever. Beth stands up and cocks her head to the side. She signals Maria to turn down the radio.
“Wait! I love this song!” I plead, even though it’s not a song, but an annoying commercial jingle for some kind of bladder medication. Maria ignores me and dives into the open passenger-side window. Her bare legs dangle in the air, offering a glimpse of her black boy-short underwear under the hem of her dark denim miniskirt. She quiets the volume as his voice sails over us for a fifth time.
Beth shoots me a brief look of worry before climbing up on the back bumper for a view of the parking lot. I’m scared her leather flats will slide off the chrome and that she’ll fall backward, so I position myself right behind her and grab her green velvet coat. Beth’s really nervous. She probably thinks it’s Jim, coming to look for me. But it’s not.
I peek around the side of her legs and watch him spin around in a helpless, exasperated circle. The back of his blue cardigan sweater, where the crest of Fisher Prep is stitched in gold thread between his shoulder blades, glimmers in the sunlight. He’s handing out something to passing students.
“Who is that?” Beth asks incredulously.
“It’s Charlie. The boy from the party on Saturday!” I hiss.
A glimmer of recognition flashes across Beth’s face and her mouth breaks into a wide grin. She jumps down from the bumper with the flair of a dismounting gymnast. “Holy awesome!”
Charlie continues his walk down the row of parked cars next to us, his bike rolling alongside him. He makes a left at the end of the row and starts up the aisle where we are parked. I duck behind Beth and fight the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “What is he doing here?” I whisper into the back of her head.
“Looking for you, apparently.” She raises her tiny hand up for a high five, and when I don’t leap to reciprocate, she picks up my lifeless arm and slaps my hand against hers.
I shake my head. “I can’t talk to him.” My chest tightens with the thought of our last encounter. It’s too embarrassing for me to deal with, so I push it out of my head and move to pull open one of the car doors.
“Oh, Ruby! He’s totally cute,” Maria coos. She pries my hand from the handle, spins me around, and rubs a wand of watermelon-flavored gloss across my lips. “And totally your type. I can tell!”
I catch a glimpse of myself in her side-view mirror. My hair looks flat and lifeless in a boring old ponytail and there’s a ketchup stain on my sweatshirt from the fries I had at lunch. I peel it off and reveal my new-to-me Cleveland Browns tee. It’s cute, but not enough to compensate for everything else I’m lacking. Plus, it’s totally freezing outside. I should have worn my peacoat. So I put my sweatshirt back on again. “Seriously, guys. I can’t do this.”
“Shut up!” Beth squeals, racing to my side. She slides her thick tortoiseshell headband off her head and puts it onto mine. She splits my ponytail in half and pulls until the elastic tightens around it. Then she fluffs the scarf she knit for me up around my neck. “There. You look great.” She leans into my ear and whispers, “Remember our talk in your kitchen? You do not have a problem! This is the second chance you’ve been waiting for!” She scratches her fingernail against the ketchup stain furiously. And then she gives me a big fat wink.
“She’s over here!” Maria and Beth cry out in unison. Charlie’s head perks up and looks in our direction. He climbs on his silver BMX and slowly rides over.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Man, I never thought I’d make the ride across town in time to find you,” he says, wiping some sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. I think he’s a little bit embarrassed, because he’s cracking his knuckles like crazy.
“Oh,” I say, my eyes darting to the ground. Beth pokes me in the ribs. “So, um … hi.”
“Hi,” he says.
Maria and Beth beam huge smiles at me. I force my lips into a similar position.
“Here, you guys should have one of these. I made them up over the weekend.” Charlie stuffs his hand into the pocket of his cargos and comes up with three buttons. Maria, Beth, and I each reach forward and take one. They are pink at the edges with white squares in the middle. Black letters run across everything and say: HAVE YOU SEEN RUBY? I stare at the button for a second more and then I realize: He’s drawn my smile, complete with my gap teeth.
“Hey!” a voice calls out. Everyone turns to see Katherine strutting across the parking lot. She takes in Charlie with a cocked eyebrow. “Who are you?” she asks, all protective.
“This is a friend of Ruby’s,” Maria says sweetly. “Charlie.”
“I was hoping we could talk.” Charlie takes a step toward me. “Can I walk you home?”
“Well, I kind of had this thing planned,” I stammer, turn toward Beth, and shrug my shoulders.
But she shakes her head. “No biggie. We can just do it tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
We lock eyes. Can I really do this?
She shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Yes, you can.
The thing is, as much as I want to believe her, I don’t.
“Listen,” Charlie says, pressing the back of his hand against his super-red cheeks, “if walking’s not your style, you can always ride on my pegs.” He points at the metal bars jutting out at the center of his back tire.
He looks so cute and nice and sweet, with his rumpled school uniform. I think he even made his own tie out of blue felt. And there’s really no way to decline his invitation without totally hurting his feelings. “Okay, yeah. I mean, yes. I guess so. Sure.”
Katherine laughs. Both Maria and Beth elbow her. Hard.
From the back pegs of Charlie’s BMX, I lean forward and give directions out of the parking lot and onto West Market. His hunter-green baseball cap smells like salt and coconut shampoo. When I grip his shoulders, static electricity pops through my fingertips and my first instinct is to let go, but I don’t. Charlie pedals forward and our bodies collectively ease into a sharp left turn. I wonder if this is what sex is like.
He wisely chooses the sidewalk over the street because traffic is unpredictable, between all the stores and parking spots and traffic lights.
Unfortunately, the pavement is just as treacherous because the blocks are laid unevenly, mimicking the aftermath of an earthquake. He twists and turns his handlebars expertly and steers us clear of the biggest bumps.
The sound of his fat, rubbery tires crunching fallen leaves keeps the silence between us from being too quiet. Still, I know I should try for some conversation — if only to prove that, contrary to my recent behavior, I’m actually capable of some normalcy. My veins knot up in fiery bundles, pumping bursts of energy and fear and giddiness through my body.
“That’s where my mom got my Polaroid,” I say, wagging my elbow in the direction of the camera store and remembering what brought me and Charlie together in the first place.
“Cool. Do you want to study photography or something in college?”
“I’m thinking about it,” I say, even though I never really have. But I guess that would be neat. Better than studying math.
“Hey, does that shop do repairs?” Charlie tries to turn and look at me, but we almost crash into Akron Library’s book drop. “Sorry.” He quickly locks eyes on the path ahead.
“Umm, I’m not sure. Why?”
“I found my dad’s old SLR, from his college days, when we were unpacking the Pittsburgh moving boxes. That thing is awesome, but I loaded the film wrong and messed up the advance lever. I’m afraid to take it apart to try and fix it myself. My dad will freakin’ kill me if he finds out it’s busted, so I’ve just been hiding it underneath some of his prints, hoping he doesn’t decide to take it out for a sentimental spin. Thank God Akron seems to have stifled all his creativity. Anyhow, the only camera place I knew of was Best Buy, and those guys have no idea how to deal with anything that’s not digital.”
“SLR?” I ask.
“Single lens reflex. Don’t you have one? It’s like every photographer’s first real camera. You can set your shutter speed, mess with the aperture, all that fun stuff. You haven’t really taken a picture until you use one of those.”
“Oh.”
A Little Friendly Advice Page 10