by Lenore Look
Then she put the letters in her backpack. Way down at the bottom of her backpack.
It was the most daring thing anyone on 20th Avenue South had ever done. Pinned letters are supposed to be unpinned only by a grown-up. It is the law.
“In the face of uncertainty, maintain your dignity,” Ruby said bravely. There was only a slight quiver in her voice. Ruby had heard her father say that whenever he was about to lose at Scrabble. Ruby didn’t know what it meant, but somehow she felt it was appropriate.
Maybe it had something to do with feeling like a winner even when you’re a loser.
Ruby felt more like a winner with no letter pinned to her sweater.
And she thought Flying Duck looked better too.
It was definitely more … dignified.
Then she put her arm around her cousin.
And they went home.
So Busted!
Hiding the letters was the perfect alternative to flunking out.
Ruby’s parents didn’t see them.
Nothing got signed.
Nothing changed.
After a while Ruby’s friends forgot about the letters.
Even Ruby herself hardly remembered them at all.
“Out of sight, out of mind,” Ruby’s father often said. Ruby loved that saying. It meant that if he’d hidden something, he’d never think of it again.
There was only one little problem.
Emma.
Emma was Ruby’s next-door neighbor.
And Emma never forgot anything.
She and Ruby were best friends, sometimes. They both had baby brothers, Sam and Oscar, who were best buds. And Emma had a funny little dog, Elwyn, who had a mouthful of pointy teeth and little feet with toenails that went dop-dop-dop wherever he went.
Elwyn was the first friend that Flying Duck made in the neighborhood. He was curious about everything new or different. When Flying Duck first arrived, he sniffed her. Then he licked her. Then he played ball with her. After that they were friends.
But Emma was not like her dog. She didn’t like anything new or different. She liked everything to be the same. To make matters worse, Emma had heard that Flying Duck was not an American citizen, she was called an “alien.” Emma knew all about aliens. They were creatures from outer space. Their mission was to take over the human race. So whenever Flying Duck was around, Emma stood as stiff and quiet as a telephone pole. She never wiggled her thumb. In fact, she never wiggled anything at all.
“Emma just needs more time to adjust,” Ruby’s mother had told Ruby. “Just be yourselves and she’ll come around.”
Emma came around all right.
“Did your parents see the letter yet?” Emma asked nervously. It was morning recess.
“What letter?” Ruby stopped.
“The one that says you’re flunking second grade,” Emma said.
Ruby froze.
Uh-oh. That letter. Ruby had nearly completely forgotten about that letter. She shook her head.
“I didn’t think so,” Emma said. She watched Flying Duck carefully.
“If I were you,” Emma added, “I would show my parents right away. You know, the longer you wait, the more you’ll flunk. You could end up back in kindergarten.”
Ruby knew Emma was a little paranoid. But sometimes Emma was right. Before Ruby had a chance to think about it for too long, Emma had something else to say.
“You know about aliens, right?” Emma whispered. “You know not to play with one if you saw one, right?”
Ruby blinked. She glanced at Flying Duck. Ruby, too, had heard that her cousin was an alien. But she was not afraid of them. Her mother was an alien before she learned to be an ordinary person in citizenship classes. So Ruby was actually quite proud that aliens ran in her family. She only wished that she had been born an alien too.
“You’re just jealous, Emma Jean!” Ruby cried.
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
Flying Duck didn’t understand the commotion, but she had something to say to Emma.
“Pay me!” Flying Duck said in her best English. “Pay me!”
Flying Duck’s English was not perfect. She had meant to say, “Play with me,” but it came out wrong.
Emma frowned.
She twisted her hair.
She narrowed her eyes.
Then Emma cracked.
“Save yourself!” she screamed at Ruby.
Ruby gasped.
“She’s an alien!” Emma pointed at Flying Duck. “She’s come to snatch us all away and use us in medical experiments! And she’s already got you in her clutches!”
Games stopped. A tetherball hit someone in the head. Hopscotch markers dropped. It was only morning recess. Usually nothing unusual happened during morning recess—only during afternoon recess.
Suddenly Flying Duck didn’t feel so good. She ran off the playground and headed straight to the nurse’s office.
And Emma headed to the principal’s office for a time-out.
Then Ruby tried to jump Emma, who was on her way to the principal’s office.
But the playground monitor caught her midjump.
That night, for the first time since Flying Duck and her family arrived, it was quiet at Ruby’s house.
Nobody knew what to say.
Nobody knew what to do.
The principal’s secretary had called and spoken to Ruby’s mother. Getting a phone call was worse than getting twenty-five hundred pinned letters.
Ruby had worked so hard to help Flying Duck feel at home in her new country, and to do better in school, but now everything was ruined.
Worst of all, their parents were scheduled for an emergency meeting with the principal.
Ruby was as busted as a can of beans under the tire of a truck.
She was one dead bean.
Ruby’s lips turned down. A tear ran down one cheek. Then a tear ran down the other cheek.
“EmmasaidthatFlyingDuckwasanalien andthatshehadcometosnatchusallawayfor experimentssoItriedtojumpheronherway totheprincipal’soffice,” Ruby confessed all at once.
She came up for breath.
“And I’m sorry I tried to jump her,” Ruby cried. Then she ran into her mother’s arms and burst into thunderous sobs.
The Principal’s Office.
This is how to say you’re sorry in Chinese Sign Language: Salute the person to whom you are apologizing with your left hand. Then touch your left pinky finger to your chest over and over again.
Emma had asked Flying Duck’s mother to teach her to apologize.
Then she practiced all weekend.
Then she surprised Flying Duck.
She said she was sorry in perfect sign first thing Monday morning.
Then it was Ruby’s turn. Ruby did not like to apologize.
But she was in the principal’s office.
She stood on one foot. Then she stood on the other. Then she glanced around the room, three whole times.
Finally Ruby said she was sorry (in a little voice) for having tried to jump Emma … even though Emma deserved it (in a louder voice).
Then Emma got to go back to class, she was so lucky. And Ruby’s and Flying Duck’s parents got called in from the waiting room.
Miss Kallianpur, the principal, gave this report on Ruby:
Ruby had been a “fine example” to the entire school of how to welcome someone new. She had been a wonderful Smile Buddy.
“I am very proud of Ruby,” she said. “Helping someone adjust to a new country is not easy.”
But …
Not only did Ruby forget her playground manners …
Her work was suffering. Her book reports, which used to be as thick as Russian novels, were now as thin as a passport application.
In geography she’d said that the second-longest river in the United States is the Yangtze. (It is not. The second-longest river in the USA is the Mississippi River, which runs 2,340 miles.)
In histo
ry she’d said that George Washington was the first emperor of the United States. (He was not.)
And her math, which was never her best subject anyway, was now completely and totally incomprehensible.
In other words, Ruby was a full-time Smile Buddy, and a no-time student.
As for Flying Duck, the report on her was as follows:
All of her ESL homework had been neatly and correctly done.
Her book reports were as thick as Russian novels. And her handwriting on all her homework looked oddly identical to Ruby’s.
Did anyone know anything about that?
“Rubeee …,” Ruby’s father began. He glowed like a red-hot coal.
Ruby was really busted now.
“It’s been a disruptive year for both of them,” Miss Kallianpur said. “I was a bit confused too when I first came to this country.” She herself had come from India when she was Ruby and Flying Duck’s age.
“Flying Duck needs more time to adjust to her new surroundings,” Miss Kallianpur continued. “And Ruby … well, Ruby needs to adjust to her new circumstances too.”
So it was decided, on the brink of summer break, that both Flying Duck and Ruby … would attend summer school.
“A little extra help will do wonders for them,” Miss Kallianpur said.
Ruby’s parents agreed, and so did Flying Duck’s. Summer school was a great idea. Ruby had been to summer school once before and had learned more in summer school than she had her entire kindergarten year.
“A miracle,” Ruby’s mother had said back then. “A true miracle.”
And it had been. Ruby was famous when she showed up in first grade. On her sweater was a big blue ribbon from summer school and in shiny gold letters it said, GENIUS. No one else had on such a ribbon. No one in first grade could even read it. No one, that is, except for Ruby.
But things are different when you’re nearly eight.
Ruby had summer plans.
Big plans.
And these did not include summer school.
That night it was hard to fall asleep.
Ruby’s and Flying Duck’s eyes were as large as lychee fruits.
The stars moved across the night window from their spring positions to their summer ones, but neither Ruby nor Flying Duck noticed.
And Ruby’s backpack, the one containing the unpinned letters, was set in its summer position too, in the back of Ruby’s closet.
Ruby blinked.
For a moment she remembered the letters. They were never mentioned in the principal’s office. Not once. Not even a hint. It was odd. But it was a miracle. Suddenly the prospect of summer school didn’t seem so bad. They had been busted for not doing their work, but at least they hadn’t flunked. It was a very close call.
Then the memory of those letters led to the memory of another one.
Oh no! Ruby had completely forgotten about her invitation to the tea! She and Flying Duck had missed the tea altogether! But Ruby was too tired to feel too terrible about it. Summer was now just a wink away.
The Trouble with Swimming Lessons
The first day of the summer holiday changes everything.
Even with the looming threat of summer school.
Even with the dismal history of second grade.
Even with the difficulties of immigration. Everything looks different.
Doors bang.
Windows open.
Flowers look expectantly upward.
A fly pings off a metal garbage can.
Somewhere a gate yawns and closes.
And somewhere else, a car blows its nose. Honk!
Flying Duck’s parents were still job hunting.
They clipped job ads from the Chinese newspaper.
They made phone calls.
They filled out applications.
Ruby’s father tutored them in interviewing skills. And Ruby’s mother gave them tips and helpful hints on proper dress and etiquette.
“No white socks,” Ruby’s mother instructed. “Smile and shake hands.”
Purpose brimmed from every heart, especially Ruby’s.
She made a list:
MY 12-Step Summer Gols Gaols plans:
Hold breth in swiming skool.
Put face in Water.
Blo bubels.
Be frends again with Emma.
Play with Flying Duck.
Play with Oscar.
Reluctantly she added:
7. Go to summer skool.
It wasn’t exactly twelve steps, but it was close. Still, something was missing from her list. What was it? Ruby could not quite put her knuckle on it … it was something very important … but Ruby just couldn’t concentrate.
“C’mon, Flying Duck,” she said, giving up on remembering. And they both ran outside.
The sidewalk was sizzling. The grass was roasting. The sun burned brighter and hotter than a million tiki torches.
Ruby’s neighborhood buddies were already wedged in the branches of her plum tree. And the tree was abuzz. It was the first summer meeting of the 20th Avenue South Plum Club. And everyone was talking about the rumor that Ruby and Flying Duck were headed to summer school.
“It’s not a rumor,” Ruby said glumly.
Everyone was stunned. Even Elwyn howled his dismay.
Ruby was the president of the Plum Club because the tree was in her backyard. Everyone else was a member. Membership was open to anyone who lived on 20th Avenue South, but it was okay if you lived on 19th Avenue South or even 23rd Avenue South. Members included anyone who could climb the plum tree, but it was okay if you could not (Oscar and Sam), or would not (Emma was afraid of heights). The Plum Club met whenever there was anything to talk about or for no reason at all.
“You might as well be going to jail,” Wally said.
Wally was right. Summer was for running through the sprinkler and chasing the ice-cream truck.
Summer was for sitting in the plum tree.
And doing science experiments on the sidewalk.
Summer was for doing everything. And doing nothing.
But summer was definitely not for summer school.
Everyone felt sorry for Ruby and Flying Duck.
Everyone, that is, except Emma.
“I never needed the extra help,” she snorted.
“Summer school is actually … kind of fun,” Ruby said, trying to remember her earlier summer school experience. “It’s like … going to camp.”
“Really?” said Emma.
“Yup,” Ruby said. “Better than camp. You get extra help and extra snacks. You get extra, extra, extra everything!”
“Ruby Lu!” Emma steamed. “You’re just trying to make me jealous.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
“Everyone knows that summer school is for dummies!” Emma blurted.
Ruby gasped. She could hardly stand it. Some days she and Emma were best friends. But other days Ruby could just …
“Rubeeeeee!” It was Ruby’s mother. She was on the back step with Oscar on her hip. “Time for your swim lesson!”
Oh no! Ruby had spent the entire last summer at the pool and did not once put her face in. This summer she especially dreaded swim school because Flying Duck could hold her breath for forty-two seconds, no problem.
“Beeeee!” Oscar waved.
Oscar was in his swimsuit. He could hardly wait. But Ruby was allergic to water. Ruby wondered how Oscar found his swimsuit after she had hidden it so well.
So Ruby did not answer her mother or Oscar.
But Emma’s mother did.
“What a good idea!” Emma’s mom called from the next yard. She was hanging out wash. “Why don’t we take all the kids? I’ll give the other moms a call.”
That afternoon Ruby, president of the Plum Club, and her entire presidential entourage ended up in the pool.
Oscar and Sam dove straight into the water babies’ class.
Wally, Tiger, and Flying Duck
, who possessed unnatural breath-holding abilities, moved into Coral Cay.
Christina jumped right into Motorboat Lane. She had lived in California before she moved to 20th Avenue South and was an excellent swimmer. She had been to the beach. She had floated in the ocean. She had gotten her face wet. She had even gotten sand in her bathing suit.
But poor Emma. She disliked the water even more than Ruby. Ruby was aquaphobic and had flunked out of swim school three summers in a row. Emma, who was also aquaphobic, had managed to avoid swim lessons altogether. Until now.
She was strapped into personal flotation devices (PFDs) from eyebrow to anklebone. Just like Ruby.
And they both ended up in Shallow Shores.
“What’s shallow?” Emma peeped, looking at the water.
“Don’t know,” Ruby squeaked.
They climbed in.
The water licked their chins. It was very scary.
“Honey, if you’re going to pray, don’t worry,” Ruby advised Emma just before chomping down on her own breathing tube. “And if you’re going to worry, don’t pray.” Ruby had heard this on the bus, where there was always lots of good advice.
Emma shivered. Goose bumps covered her little arms. She looked straight ahead. She breathed heavily through her tube.
Ruby breathed heavily too. She pretended she was a water frog, but it was no use. She was not pond or pool compatible. She thought of only one thing: drowning. Nothing could be more dreadful. Except maybe drowning in Shallow Shores in front of her friends while wearing her PFDs.
Ruby clung for dear life to the side of the pool. So did Emma.
Meanwhile the rest of the class bobbed up and down like mermaids and mermen and blew bubbles until the pool looked like soda.
“I remember you from last summer!” said Danny, the swim instructor, squirting a stream of water through his hands at Ruby. It was a lifeguard trick that usually made swimmers squeal with delight.
“Ur e-em-er-ur oo,” Ruby said through her tube. She remembered him, too.