Ruby Starr Series, Book 1

by Deborah Lytton

  I hold a heavy golden key in my hand. The key opens the door to a secret garden. I step through the door into a magical world filled with flowers in every color. I sit down on the path and breathe in the smell of roses and lilac. Nothing bad can happen here. Birds sing. Bees buzz. And none of them even try to sting me. Maybe I can stay here and live in a burrow or a beehive. Bees probably don’t have to go to school. I bet their friends don’t leave them at book club either. Yellow and black aren’t the worst of colors.

  Chapter 6

  Sorry Is Harder to Say than Spell

  I don’t eat much for dinner. No one really notices though. Wednesday night is Mom’s book club, so we have a regular order with Charlie’s Pizza. They deliver three pizzas at 6:00 p.m. Two are for us and one for book club.

  I always sit in on Mom’s meetings. I like to get ideas for my own book club. But not tonight. “I’m really tired,” I tell Mom. (I throw in a fake yawn to emphasize the point.) She gives me a look with raised eyebrows that tells me she doesn’t believe me. But she doesn’t push. She’s already asked me about school and my dance. “Fine” and “fine” were my answers. But my day was anything but fine.

  Abe is the only one I can talk to. Even though he’s a dog, Abe seems to understand when I am sad about something. He must have special canine powers. He jumps onto my bed and makes himself comfortable. I sit down next to him. He’s almost as sweet as the bees in my imagination. And he’s way smarter.

  “I wouldn’t have made you proud today,” I whisper so softly that only he can hear. “I didn’t make myself proud either. I kind of let myself down, Abe.”

  Abe looks up at me with his big brown eyes. I think he looks a little sad. “I didn’t mean to say something awful. It just flew out of my mouth. And then I couldn’t take it back. Everyone had already heard it. I bet they think I’m super mean. I guess I just didn’t know what to do when Charlotte hurt me like that. So I copied her. And hurt her right back.” Abe licks my hand. He makes it all wet, and he has the worst doggie breath in the world, but right now, I don’t even care. I just let him slobber on me.

  “You want me to say sorry, don’t you?” I look down at him, and Abe wags his tail. “How can one word be so easy to write and so hard to say?” Abe doesn’t have an answer for this one. “I think she should say sorry too. For ruining my book club and stealing my friends and insulting me.” But I can tell Charlotte isn’t the apologizing type. So I can’t expect that. “Don’t give an apology with an expectation of getting something in return,” Mom always says. And she’s right. Sorry doesn’t mean much if you’re only saying it to get something.

  “Why is it that just when I get used to things, they have to go and change on me?” I wonder out loud. I was happy with my class and my friends and our routine. Then Charlotte had to come and turn everything upside down. For some reason, thinking of things turning upside down reminds me of Alice in Wonderland. She fell down a rabbit hole and even though she was far away from everything she knew, she still managed to make friends—and stay true to herself.

  Dorothy did the same in The Wizard of Oz. And Hermione started out without even one friend—and ended up making two best friends without ever changing. I can be like them. I can stay true to myself and keep friends. I don’t have to turn into Charlotte. I just have to be me. Ruby Josephine Starr. (Just try to guess where my middle name came from. I’ll give you one hint: it’s from a book.)

  • • •

  The next morning, I get to school right before the bell is about to ring (which I sort of planned. I might have to go to school, but I don’t have to do the morning hello thing). Charlotte and Siri are already lining up. Jessica and Daisy are walking together. Siri sees me and gives a half wave. Charlotte turns away to get her backpack. But I know she has seen me too. I go to the back of the line and stand next to Will P. Today, he is wearing socks with different-colored mustaches.

  “Can’t wait for the field trip,” Will tells me.

  The field trip is today. “I totally forgot,” I admit. We’re having a field trip, but we aren’t actually leaving school. The field trip is coming to us. “They should have some other name for a field trip that isn’t really a field trip because we don’t go anywhere.”

  “I don’t care what we call it. It’s going to be amazingly fantastical,” Will answers. He likes to put adjectives together, kind of like an adjective string. Sometimes he even makes up words. But you can understand what he means, so I guess it’s OK.

  “Totally,” I say. But I am less than enthusiastic. Activities involve pairings. Pairings are just one more chance for me to be left out. (No one wants to be a single scoop of sour apple when everyone else is a double scoop of fun, like bubble gum or mint chip.)

  Mrs. Sablinsky takes us into the classroom then. Siri says hi at the backpack rack. I smile back, but my smile is wobbly on the edges. Then Charlotte hands Siri a folded note before going to her desk. They smile at each other. All I can do is stare at the note, wishing I knew what it said.

  I close my eyes and feel myself changing into another form. I am a shape-shifter, and I can become anything I want. Today, I become a golden hawk. My arms become wings, and my skin turns into golden shimmery feathers. I fly over the classroom, soaring closer to Siri. I dip low enough for my talons to snatch the note out of her hands. Then I fly away. Far away. I leave the note at the top of the highest peak where only the bravest warriors and hawks will ever find it.

  Someone touches me. I see Daisy with her hand on my raised arm. I am still standing next to the backpacks.

  “What are you doing?” Daisy asks, her dark eyes searching mine.

  I drop my arms to my sides. “Just stretching,” I tell her.

  Mrs. Sablinsky begins to take roll so we hurry to our seats. I can’t help but look across the room at Siri. She is reading the note. That’s when I feel the pain in my chest, like someone is pinching me inside. Over and over again until I can barely breathe.

  I know what it is. It’s olive green and makes you kind of queasy.

  Jealousy.

  I swallow really hard, like if I gulp it down, it will go away. But there it is, pinching me again. It hurts.

  • • •

  Usually, math is the slowest part of the day. But not today. Today, it practically zooms by. Why is it that time seems to speed up when you want it to slow down? Are the minutes still sixty seconds long—or is there some secret time warp where they actually go faster but we can’t really tell?

  Before I know it, Mrs. S is telling us it’s time for the field trip. I wish I had more division to do. Something must be seriously wrong with me.

  Our class walks together to the multipurpose room. Somehow, I end up next to Charlotte.

  “At my school, we actually left school for our field trips. I never heard of staying at school for one.”

  I don’t know why everything Charlotte says makes me defensive. I don’t even necessarily disagree with her about the idea of a field trip that isn’t really a field trip. But I feel like I have to defend my school. Somehow, her words make it seem like she thinks our school is lame compared to her old one.

  So I open my big mouth again. And I don’t say sorry. No, instead, I make it even worse.

  “Well, this is your school now, right? And this is how we do things here.”

  Ugh. Not how I meant it to come out at all. And now everyone is looking at me like they don’t know me again. I wish I could climb right into the nearest trash can.

  I know what I need to do. I just can’t seem to do it. I try to say sorry, but nothing comes out. The word is stuck in my throat. I cough loudly. Making everyone stare at me even more. So I decide to wait for lunch to apologize.

  The field trip that isn’t really a field trip is all about… No, it can’t be. But it is. It’s about friendship.

  We all sit in rows on the floor of the multipurpose room facin
g the stage. I end up pushed to the end of the line so I’m not even sitting by any of the Unicorns. I’m actually sitting between Jason (the boy who sleeps all day) and Will B (yes, that Will). Everyone knows that one of the best parts of any field trip is being with your friends. Only I’m not with my friends. I’m not even with any sort-of friends.

  Suddenly, I am distracted from my less-than-fantastic seating arrangement as the curtains open and six acrobats in matching shiny, red outfits run across the stage doing flips. Everyone starts oohing and aahing. Then one performer waits in the middle of the stage while a second performer runs and somersaults to stand on his shoulders. The next acrobat jumps even higher because he lands on the second one’s shoulders. They keep going higher and higher until the last one runs and jumps on a little trampoline to reach the very tippy top.

  The whole class jumps to their feet clapping and cheering. Even Mrs. Sablinsky has a smile on her face. I’m pretty sure it’s a smile anyway.

  One by one, the acrobats somersault down to stand in a line facing us. The lead performer picks up a microphone. “Hey, everybody. We’re here to share our secret with you. Do you want to know how we just did that?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Cooperation! We worked together. Each one of us helped the group to succeed. We trust each other. If we didn’t, then one of us might fall. Watch this!”

  They line themselves up sideways and make a bridge. Then one of the acrobats does seven back handsprings in a row. Right across the bridge!

  “Now it’s your turn,” the main acrobat tells us. He raises his hands to tell us to stand up.

  I think he means we are going to learn tumbling. I’ve always wanted to be like the gymnastics girls in the Olympics. This might be the best field trip that isn’t really a field trip ever!

  I scramble to my feet along with everyone else. Even Jason wakes up for this. Only, it’s not what I think. Not at all.

  The lead performer tells us to pair up. This can’t be happening to me again. I look around quickly to see if I can spot any of the Unicorns. Jessica and Daisy are in the row ahead of me. I can’t see Siri at all. My eyes dart around, looking for someone who is alone. Any second now, Mrs. S is going to ask the dreaded question, “Who still needs a partner?” That’s when I see Molly. She usually pairs with Hazel, but she’s standing alone. I hurry over.

  “Wannabepartners?” I ask as quickly as I can.

  “Sure,” she answers with a small smile.

  The acrobats begin passing out balloons while the one on the microphone explains the exercise. “Sit down back to back with the balloon in between. Then work together to stand up, while keeping the balloon between you.”

  This is way more difficult than it sounds. Molly and I get a yellow balloon. We put it between our backs and try to stand. Only every time one of us moves, the balloon drifts away. We have to run and catch it and start the whole thing over.

  The second time it happens, the balloon drifts to the back of the room. I chase it down only to find myself looking right at Siri and Charlotte. Except they don’t see me. Because the two of them are standing up with the balloon perfectly balanced between their backs. They look like they should be teaching the class.

  Which is exactly what the acrobat says a few minutes later. He invites Charlotte and Siri up onstage.

  “You two kept the balloon in place the longest, so you get to demonstrate the hardest of all trust exercises—the trust fall.”

  The rest of us are asked to sit down again. We won’t be trying this one at all.

  I sit down next to Molly and watch as Siri is asked to close her eyes and fall backward, trusting that Charlotte will catch her. The other acrobats stand nearby in case Charlotte misses.

  Only she doesn’t. Siri falls backward, and Charlotte catches her.

  “And that’s trust, everybody!” the acrobat calls out. “Let’s give them a big round of applause.”

  Then he hands them each a special sticker and shakes their hands. “Keep up the good friendship.”

  There’s only so much a girl can take. I think it should be me up there with Siri.

  I imagine my friends are wearing matching shiny pink outfits and are onstage. Jessica is standing on Mrs. Sablinsky’s shoulders. Daisy is standing on Jessica’s shoulders. And Siri is standing on Daisy’s shoulders. I run onstage and leap onto the trampoline. When I bounce into the air, Siri is supposed to catch my hands. But she misses. Charlotte is jumping from the other side. Siri reaches for Charlotte’s hands instead of mine. I fall to the ground, which is actually a giant bowl of cherry Jell-O.

  The six acrobats run across the stage doing flips while we leave the auditorium. The lunch bell is about to ring. I know what I need to do.

  Chapter 7

  Unicorns Rule

  We walk to the lunch benches and squeeze in. I make sure to sit next to Charlotte. I think maybe if I whisper the word before my brain realizes what I am going to say, that will work better. It doesn’t. I end up choking on a tortilla chip. It’s so bad that Daisy jumps up and runs over to clap me on the back.

  “You OK?” Siri asks.

  I just nod. I feel like one of those rocks that has googly eyes glued on it. Completely ridiculous. (I mean why does a rock want to have a face anyway? It’s a rock. It’s all natural and part of the earth and everything. Why does it want to look like a wannabe stuffed animal?)

  But that’s what I am. A pet rock.

  I see myself sitting at the table with my friends. Only I am not me. I am an oval-shaped grayish rock with two googly eyes. I am even wearing a pink sweater. Everyone gets up from the table and leaves. I have to stay right where I am because, of course, I am a rock. I am not on the ground with the other rocks, the rocks that don’t have googly eyes. I am completely and totally alone.

  I am the first one to get up from the table. I do not want to be left behind. My friends follow me to the four square courts. And there I grimace my way through the wonderful world of Charlotte’s play game.

  “I liked both of your dances. But only one of you can go to the ball. Close your eyes. If I tap you on the shoulder, you are going to the ball.”

  This game gets worse by the minute.

  But I close my eyes. Because Siri is closing hers. Of course, there is no tap on my shoulder. So when I hear Charlotte say, “You can open your eyes now,” I’m not surprised to see Siri jumping up and down.

  “I’m going to the ball!”

  I have to spend the rest of lunch watching everyone else dance around at a ball. I just sit on the blacktop by myself.

  But when the bell rings, I walk right up to Charlotte. Maybe all that time being bored was good for something. Now I am ready.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I say.

  She looks at Siri before answering me. “Sure.”

  I step to the side, and Charlotte steps with me. My friends move toward the class line. I know they are trying not to eavesdrop.

  “I just wanted to say sorry.” There. I did it. “I know you just got here, and it must be hard for you. I didn’t mean to say the things I said.”

  Charlotte smiles at me. I can see her pink braces and everything. “Thanks, Ruby. I really want to be your friend.”

  “Me too,” I answer.

  By then we have reached the class line. Charlotte moves behind Jessica. I stand behind Charlotte. I smile to myself.

  I think that is the end of it. That everything will be all right after this little talk. It will be just like it was before Charlotte, only with Charlotte. The Unicorns will be as strong and powerful as ever.

  • • •

  PE is at the end of the school day. Today, we have to run the mile. Siri and I usually pair up so we can talk while we jog. Still, with everything that’s been happening lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if she sticks with Charlotte. Except she doesn’t. She comes over to run with me.
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  “Did you like the field trip?” I ask her.

  Siri grins. “I thought it was amazing. Especially the way they could flip in the air.”

  “Even Mrs. Sablinsky liked it,” I add.

  “Charlotte thought the whole thing was lame,” Siri shares. “Because we didn’t leave school. She wasn’t even happy we got to go onstage.”

  I shrug. I’m not sure I want to talk about Charlotte. I might get all angry and say something I have to apologize for again. Saying sorry more than one time in a day is just too much.

  “You like her, right?” Siri mentions Charlotte, not me. I keep my eyes forward on the ground in front of me, and not on Siri. “I mean, you haven’t really been yourself the last few days. Saying things and stuff.”

  (Important fact about best friends: sometimes they tell you something you really don’t want to hear, even though you know it’s the truth.)

  I shrug again. “I don’t know. She’s kind of making things different. I said sorry, you know.” I don’t know why I feel like I need to tell her. But somehow, I do. I want her to know I apologized for the things I said. Even if I didn’t have to apologize to Charlotte.

  Siri smiles. “Different can be good. It’s interesting.” She doesn’t mention the apology part. Maybe because there isn’t anything to say about it.

  “I guess. But what about book club?” I ask her. There, I’ve said it.

  “What about book club?” Siri and I round the yard for the second lap.

  How do I explain all the things I am thinking without sounding jealous? I decide to keep it simple. Stick to the facts. “I mean she didn’t even read the book.”

  Siri’s mouth tightens. I can tell she is going to defend Charlotte before she even says the words. “Maybe she didn’t have time. It was her first day.”