“Ruby, what are you getting?” Jessica asks.
“It’s called 100 Cakes. I’m baking a cake this weekend,” I tell her as I flip the book around so she can see the cover. It shows a shiny chocolate cake with raspberries around the edges. The cover is seriously mouthwatering.
Jessica’s eyes go wide. “That looks so good! Now I want some cake!”
“Me too!” Daisy says. “Are you going to make that one?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. There are a hundred choices. Plus, Sam is helping me. I think we should choose together.”
Siri speaks up then. “What are you making the cake for?”
“My grandfather’s birthday on Sunday.” Last year, she came with me to decorate. I try not to think about it.
“We had fun last year on his birthday,” Siri reminds me. “Remember the pumpkin lights?”
I laugh, even though I am not in a laughing mood. I want to stay mad. “How could I forget my dad being stuck in a tree?”
We were helping Dad hang strings of light-up pumpkins in the trees in Gram’s front yard. Dad thought it would be easier if he climbed into the tree instead of standing on a ladder. So he climbed up. He hung up the lights, and they looked great. But then he realized his shirt was caught on a branch. He couldn’t get it loose, and he couldn’t pull his arms up to take it off. We had to wait for the fire department to come and get him out of the tree. Dad calls it his most embarrassing moment ever. Siri and I couldn’t stop laughing for a whole week.
“I remember that!” Daisy says. And Jessica starts to giggle. We told our friends about it first thing the next day. So it was almost like they were there with us.
The only one who doesn’t know about it is Charlotte. I catch the look on her face. And I realize that right now, she feels the same way I have felt since she got here—left out. Even though I should be happy that she is left out for once, I don’t. I actually know what this feels like. I don’t want someone else to experience it, not because of me anyway. So I tell her the story. I watch her face go from sad to happy, just like that.
“I wish I had a big family like yours,” Charlotte says. “It’s just me and my dad. And my grandma.”
I want to ask her about her mom. It’s a natural question after hearing it’s just her and her dad and grandma. But just as I open my mouth to ask, I hear Mom’s voice in my head. It’s so loud it’s almost like she is standing right next to me. If Charlotte wants to tell you about her mother, she will. No need to pry.
I close my mouth tight, pressing my lips into a thin line.
But Jessica doesn’t have that voice in her head, or if she does, she doesn’t listen to it. “What about your mom?”
I shoot Jessica a quick look, but it’s too late because the words are already out there.
I watch Charlotte to see how she will react. I see sadness flicker in her eyes. Then she shrugs and looks down at her hands. “She left a long time ago.”
There is a silent moment among us. Not one of us is without a mother. I look at Siri, who looks at Jessica, and Jessica looks at Daisy. Siri is the only one of the four of us who doesn’t have both parents in the same house. Her parents are divorced, but she goes back and forth between them.
Charlotte bends down and pretends to tie her shoe. But I know it’s just a cover. I know this because I have done it myself when I can’t think of anything else to do.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte. That must be really hard for you.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize what I am saying.
Charlotte looks up at me. Her eyes are shiny. I know if she looks down, the tears will overflow. But right now, they are caught in her lashes. She shrugs. “No big deal. I don’t remember her anyway.”
“Everyone, please gather your books now. It’s time to head back to the classroom.” Mrs. Xia’s voice interrupts us. I move behind Siri to line up at the door. Charlotte steps behind me. I sneak one look at her. But she doesn’t notice. She is looking down at the ground. And I can’t be positive, but I think I see one single silent tear slip off her cheek and drop onto the ground.
I imagine catching Charlotte’s tear in my hand. The tear stays perfectly formed. It glistens with sorrow. I hold it gently in my hand. I am no longer in the library. I am in an empty white room with three doors. There is a red door, a blue door, and a green door. I open the blue door. Outside is an ocean of tears. All the sadness in the world is in that ocean. I slip the tear into the sea—and close the door.
When we get back to the classroom, we have silent reading time. I look through half of the one hundred recipes, using slips of paper to mark my favorites: a red velvet cake, a carrot cake with raisins, and the chocolate one from the cover. I don’t have time to finish though, because I have to go outside. Every Friday, I help with the first, second, and third graders.
I am a yard guard. We’re a group of fourth and fifth graders who help the younger students learn to play fair on the playground. We even get to wear red-and-white badges on red strings around our necks. Mrs. Sablinsky excuses me and Siri and the other yard guards. Siri and I hurry to the drawer in the back of the classroom for our badges. Then we head for the stairs.
“Did you find any good recipes?” Siri asks.
“I found a couple I liked. I wanted to find one with coconut though. I know Gramps loves it.”
“Mmm, coconut frosting sounds really good right now,” she says. “Your mom is the best baker.”
“I know,” I agree. Thinking about my mom baking reminds me that Charlotte doesn’t have a mom.
“I felt really bad about Charlotte,” I tell Siri.
“Her grandma picks her up every day, but your grandma picks you up when your mom is working too.”
I guess that’s true. But it’s different for Charlotte.
The object of the yard guards is to look for kids that are having problems getting along. Maybe someone doesn’t think they should be out in four square. Or maybe someone else cuts in line for the drinking fountain. Maybe someone just gets their feelings hurt. Yard guards are supposed to step in and help them work it out.
Siri and I join a really big game of basketball. I play on one team while Siri plays on the other team. Siri can make shots from the opposite side of the court. Me, I’m better at dribbling the ball than actually shooting it. So I hang toward the outside and feed the ball to the other players. When two boys begin to argue over whether someone is traveling, Siri and I step into the middle of the argument.
“Let’s help figure this out,” I suggest.
“Good idea,” Siri agrees. “If someone isn’t sure they traveled, give them another chance.” She turns to the boy who has the ball. “Just remember, if your feet are moving, the ball has to be moving too.”
“Got it,” the boy answers. His hair dips over one eye, and he shakes it with a quick tilt of his head before bouncing the ball and shuffling toward the basket.
He misses, and the other team gets the ball. We all move to the other side of the court. There aren’t any other arguments for Siri and I to work out with this group. So we move on and begin walking the perimeter of the playground. We keep our eyes open for yelling or crying. Everyone seems to be playing fair.
“I hope you don’t feel weird,” Siri says.
I think I’m pretty sure I know what she’s talking about. But I don’t want to say it if I am wrong. So I say this instead: “About what?”
Siri shrugs. She is playing with the yard guard badge around her neck. Twisting and untwisting the cord that holds the badge. I watch it spin instead of looking directly at her.
“You know, Charlotte coming over and all.”
“Oh that.” Somehow, the sleepover doesn’t matter as much now. So I really mean it when I shrug and say, “No biggie.”
“Her grandma called and asked me to stay at her house first,” Siri explains. “But because I’m
with my mom this weekend, it made more sense for her to come to my house.” Siri spins the badge again. I want to reach out and stop it from spinning. But I don’t.
“I get it,” I say. I do. So then why does it make me feel so squirmy inside? I wish it didn’t. But sometimes wishes don’t come true. Sometimes things are just hard. And wishing doesn’t make them any easier.
Siri exhales like she has been holding her breath or something. “Good, ’cause I didn’t want you to think it was her being my best friend or anything. ’Cause you’re my best friend.”
I crack my face into a smile. Siri is my best friend. And I am her best friend. Charlotte is just spending the night. It really is no big deal.
Siri and I stand on the balcony of a silver castle. We wear matching crowns of woven purple and pink flowers. Below us are trees with golden blossoms, streams decorated with jewels, and fairies with butterfly wings floating in the air. This is the kingdom of friendship where we welcome everyone as our friend. Our motto is happiness.
Chapter 10
Pumpkins, Frosting, and a Pair of Dogs Do Not Mix
Saturday afternoon, Mom finds me and Abe snuggled on the sofa reading. Well, I’m reading. Abe is lying there with one eye open and one eye closed. “It’s time to make Grandpa’s birthday cake,” Mom says. I look up at her. She is wearing her colorful, floral not-working clothes, and her hair is pulled into a ponytail.
“Let’s go, Abe,” I say as I follow Mom, and Abe follows me into the kitchen like a train. Mom is the engine, I am the middle, and Abe is the caboose. I like the word caboose. Just thinking of it makes me want to laugh.
Sam is sitting on the kitchen counter, leafing through my 100 Cakes book.
“I like the ones you marked,” he tells me. “Especially the red velvet. It looks so good in the picture.”
I agree with him that cake does look super delicious. But I was thinking about something else. “I was hoping to find one with coconut since I know Grandpa loves it.”
“And I just so happen to have this…” Mom reaches into the cabinet and holds up a pinkish-tan bag. “Coconut flakes.”
Sam hands me the book. I flip to the back and look through the index to find…C for coconut. And there it is—coconut cake, page 56.
I turn to page 56 to see a white, fluffy angelic-looking cake that is exactly what I wanted to find.
I hold the book up so Sam and Mom can see it. “What do you think?” I ask.
My mom and brother look at each other and nod. “We like it,” Mom says. Abe barks, and I laugh before I can catch myself. “I guess Abe likes it too,” I tell them.
Mom heads to the pantry for the dry ingredients, and I take out butter and eggs. Sam sets up the mixing bowls and measuring cups. Mom flips on the old radio in the kitchen corner. It’s the same radio Grandma used to have in their kitchen when my mom was growing up. It’s already set to the oldies station. But Sam and I know all the words to the songs. Mom always sings while she cooks. We sing with her.
Sam cracks the eggs using only one hand. “It’s all in the flick of the wrist,” he tells me. “Want to give it a try?” I shake my head no. I have a feeling if I tried, I’d end up with more egg on the counter than in the bowl.
“I’ll stick with flour and sugar,” I say as I measure them one at a time. I use a butter knife to level the measuring cup. Mom says with baking, you need to follow the directions exactly.
When the batter is ready, I lean over the bowl and breathe deeply. It smells delicious. Then Sam pours it into the two round pans, and Mom slips them into the oven.
“We can take a little break while the cake is baking,” Mom tells us. “How about a snack?”
I wasn’t hungry earlier, but now I am starving. “Can I have an apple with peanut butter?” I ask Mom.
“Me too,” Sam echoes.
“That makes three of us,” Mom answers as she pulls out plates and spoons.
“Four,” Connor says as he comes into the kitchen. It’s a Starr family tradition. We all love peanut butter on spoons.
We sit together at the kitchen table and talk about books. If I’m not reading, talking about books is the next best thing. We all share a little about the books we are each reading right now. Connor is reading a book about snails. I think snails are slimy and gross when they get smushed and turn into brownish goo, but Connor shares some interesting facts. Here’s one: Snails can live ten to fifteen years in captivity. Some have even lived twenty-five years.
Snails and cake don’t really go together. But that’s life with Connor. Pretty soon, the kitchen fills with the sweet scent of cake baking.
“When you start to smell the cake, you know it is almost done,” Mom tells us. Even so, she has set the timer. When it beeps, I hurry to the oven. I peek through the window and see two golden cakes.
“The cakes look perfect!” I call out.
Mom sets the hot pans on the counter to cool.
“Let’s get to work on the icing,” Sam says.
“And that means it is time for me to leave,” Connor tells us.
We all laugh as he hurries out of the kitchen. Then Sam and I mix powdered sugar and butter with cream cheese, vanilla, and a touch of milk.
It is white and creamy. My mouth sort of drools just looking at it.
“Mom, can we try the frosting?” I ask. “You know, to make sure it tastes good?”
Mom doesn’t answer but hands us each a spoon. Sam and I dip our spoons into the mixing bowl.
“It’s even better than good!” I wish I could eat the whole bowl. But Mom moves it to the counter next to the cake.
We have to wait for the cakes to cool before we can frost them, so Mom takes Abe for a walk, and Sam works on homework. I sit at the table to write my poem for Grandpa. It is about Abe and George and their crazy adventures. My mind starts to wander.
I am at a party, and everyone is all dressed up. Only I am dressed in rags. No one will pay any attention to me. I see Siri, and I wave to her. She pretends not to notice me. Charlotte laughs at me. Even Daisy and Jessica ignore me. I should leave because I am not wanted here. But instead, I walk to the center of the room. And I begin to spin. Around and around. My rags transform into a red-and-blue superhero costume. My secret power is that I can tell when people are being honest with me. Now I will always know the truth.
We finish frosting the cake just before dinner. Then we sprinkle on coconut flakes. I have to admit, it looks exactly like the picture. My poem is finished, and I have written it out on poster board in colored markers. I am really excited to give our gifts to Grandpa.
• • •
The next morning, we go to church and then run home to pick up Abe and the cake. Grandma and Grandpa only live fifteen minutes away, so by the time Abe squirms from the backseat to the front seat three times, we are there.
Gram flings open the door before we have even piled out of the car. George pushes past her and dashes down the driveway. Abe meets him halfway and they start rolling around, barking and wagging their tails.
The dogs are always so happy to see each other that they barely notice the rest of us. I understand how they feel. I’d really miss my brothers if we had to live in different houses. Mom carries the wrapped cake, and I pull my poster out of the trunk. Sam and Connor have made something together. I don’t know what it is though because they say it’s a surprise.
“I’m so happy to see all of you!” Gram says as she wraps me in a hug.
“Where’s Dad?” my mom asks as she kisses Gram on the cheek.
“In the garage. He’s already got the Halloween bins pulled out. I hope you’re ready for decorating!”
I glance at Dad. “Try not to get stuck in any trees today.”
Dad ruffles my hair. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything.”
I follow Sam and Connor to the garage. There is my g
randfather. Where Gram is sporty, Grandpa is like a television-show grandfather in his sensible blue sweater, khakis, and spectacles. His white hair always rebels against his smooth hairstyle and pokes up on top, so he has permanent bedhead. He is a history professor so, like me, he loves books.
“Happy birthday!” I call out.
“Oh, thanks for reminding me,” Grandpa teases. “I completely forgot about it.”
“Dad, you never forget anything,” Mom answers as we both hug him at the same time.
“My best girls.” Grandpa squeezes us tight. And then he hugs Sam and Connor and Dad. We’re kind of a huggy family.
Grandpa notices the poster in my hand. “What do you have there, Ruby?”
“For you,” I say as I flip the poster around.
In the center, I have pasted a photo of Abe and George when they were puppies. And below, in different-colored markers, I have written a poem for Grandpa.
Two golden balls of fluff
So innocent and sweet
With their chocolate eyes
And happy smiles
And giant floppy paws
Mischief and mess follow them
Wherever they go
But they are loyal and loving
And make us laugh
No matter what they do
Abe and George
Brothers and friends
We call them family
Grandpa starts clapping, and the rest of my family joins in.
“Paparazzi here!” Gram calls out as she takes my picture with Grandpa.
“Anyone ready for decorating?” Mom asks.
We start looking through the boxes of Halloween decorations. I choose a set of three giant pumpkins to set up side by side on the grass. Sam helps me drag them to the right spots. Then I stand back and look.
“A little more to the right,” I say, my head tilted to the side. Sam pushes the first pumpkin to the right. Then I change my mind. “No, the left. Wait. Maybe back to the right.” Sam looks up at me and rolls his eyes. “I’m not doing this on purpose. I mean it,” I say, and I do. Something just isn’t right.
Ruby Starr Series, Book 1 Page 7