“Maybe you’re missing this,” Gram tells us as she sets a pair of Mickey Mouse ears on one of the pumpkins.
I clap my hands together. “That’s perfect!”
While Sam and I head back to the boxes for more decorations, Mom helps Dad string lights in the tree.
“Watch out there,” Connor calls.
“We don’t want a repeat of last year,” Sam adds.
“Notice that I am standing on a ladder this time,” Dad tells us.
Sam, Connor, and I work on setting up the scarecrow, who looks exactly like the one in The Wizard of Oz. Connor and Sam move bales of hay from the garage to make a display in front of the scarecrow. I add the giant sign that reads Welcome and is made out of pumpkins. Mom sets a few small pumpkins around the hay bales.
“I almost expect to find the yellow brick road somewhere around here,” I tell them.
Mom claps her hands together. “That’s a wonderful idea. I bet we could make one.”
And we do. Mom draws bricks on white poster boards, and I color them with yellow markers. Sam staples them together so they won’t blow away. Then we arrange them to lead right from the scarecrow to the front door.
Pretty soon, Gram calls us all in to lunch. We serve ourselves salads and sandwiches from the dining room table and sit together in the backyard.
Everyone is talking and laughing. Then Connor and Sam bring out Sam’s laptop computer and set it on the table in front of Grandpa.
“This is for you,” Connor tells him.
“You’re giving me a computer?” Grandpa jokes.
“Not the computer,” Sam answers. “Look!”
Connor pushes a key, and a title appears on screen.
The Life and Times of William Brook, also known as Grandpa Bill.
My brothers have scanned photos of Grandpa and made them into a movie with music. We see Grandpa at five and thirty-five and in between. The song “Blue Suede Shoes” by Elvis Presley plays as the photos blend, spin, and freeze on screen.
Then we see Gram and Grandpa together in their wedding photo, Grandpa teaching as a professor, and then my mom as a baby. She is standing at the beach holding hands with her little sister and Grandpa. Then we see all four of them on horses. Last, we see the whole family, me included, at Disneyland. We are all wearing Mickey Mouse ears. But I am pretty sure that never actually happened, so Sam and Connor must have used digital graphics to add the ears. Everyone claps—but I clap the loudest. I want to see it again.
“How wonderful!” Gram tells Sam and Connor. Grandpa is actually wiping at his eyes underneath his glasses. I think he might have gotten a little teary, so I slip him a paper napkin without a word. Grandpa takes it and dabs at his eyes.
“That was just beautiful. I have no words,” he says. And then everyone laughs because Grandpa is never at a loss for something to say.
Just then, we hear a crash from inside the house. It sounds like breaking glass. Mom is closest to the door, but before she can walk into the house, Abe and George come running out. They catch Mom by surprise, knocking her sideways. Dad catches her before she falls. The dogs run right underneath the table, yanking the tablecloth and pulling it with them. The dishes and food clatter to the ground. Everyone is shrieking and trying to catch them. But the dogs take off down the side of the house toward the front yard.
“Abe, George—stop!” I call out. But the dogs don’t listen.
Sam is fastest, but I am close behind. Everyone else follows us. When we get to the front yard, this is what we see:
A
ghost
flying
through
the
pumpkin patch.
This is what it really is:
Abe and George with coconut frosting all over their faces, turning them white and making the tablecloth stick to the tops of their heads so that it streams behind them as they run through the yard.
Mom appears at the front door holding the half-eaten cake. “I hope Abe and George enjoyed the birthday cake.”
After all our hard work, no one will even get to try the cake now. I won’t get to try the cake now. Then I think about Grandpa. It’s his birthday cake after all.
Grandpa is blotting his eyes as he watches the dogs run around in circles trying to get the tablecloth off their heads. I move closer to him. “I’m sorry your birthday is ruined.”
“To the contrary, Ruby. This is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” he tells me. That’s when I realize he’s laughing so hard that he is actually crying. Somehow, that makes it all OK—even better than OK.
Dad pulls out his phone and takes a photo so we can all remember just how the dogs looked in their Halloween costume. I think he is secretly happy to hand over the funniest Halloween story to the dogs. That way, he won’t have to hear every year about being stuck in a tree. Now we’ll be talking about Abe and George, the frosting ghosts, instead.
Chapter 11
The Monday Blues
Monday is my least favorite day of the week because it always seems to take so long to get to Book Club Tuesday.
This Monday is no exception. The day begins with Charlotte giving Siri a glittery heart card with pink feathers glued all around the edges. (It’s not that there’s anything wrong with giving someone a card. It’s actually a pretty nice thing to do, but when that someone is your best friend… Well, let’s just say it makes me feel a little sickish inside.)
The day gets worse from there. Mrs. Sablinsky is at jury duty so we have a sub. Some of the subs are really nice, and usually I like having a new teacher for the day. But not this sub. This one can only be described with one word. Cranky.
So the super-unfriendliest sub ever—who is named Mrs. Cheer (I’m really and truly serious. That is her name!)—starts out by giving us a pop quiz on double-digit division. And then she calls time before I finish the test. That usually never happens to me. When you don’t finish a test, you already know you have at least one wrong. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, I have to share a book with Will B. I see him stick his finger into his nose and pull something gooey out. Then he actually touches the book with the same finger!
By lunchtime, all I can think about is that tomorrow will be Book Club Tuesday. I say it over and over inside my head, like a song. The bell rings, and everyone scrambles out of their seats.
“How do you think you did on the quiz?” Daisy says as we pull our lunches out of our backpacks.
I shrug. “I didn’t finish the last question.” I’m embarrassed to say it, but it’s the truth.
Daisy’s eyes widen. “Me either!”
Siri and Charlotte meet up with us on the way to the tables.
“Book club tomorrow,” I tell them. “Don’t forget to bring one question for the group.” Each meeting, we all bring a question to ask the others about the book. Mom’s group began this tradition, and she says it really helps to get the conversation started.
Normally, someone would say something about being excited to talk about the book or what kind of cookies they were planning on bringing. Instead, there is silence. I glance over at Siri, eyebrows raised. But she doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead, she glances over at Charlotte. Then I look at Daisy, only she doesn’t look me in the eye either. I watch as her glance also slides to Charlotte. I am instantly tingling from the top of my head all the way down to my pink laces. It’s that feeling you have when you know people have been talking about you when you weren’t there.
“Is someone going to tell me what’s happening here?” I say these words aloud, even though they are soft. They are so soft that it’s like I almost haven’t said them at all.
They exchange looks again, and for a split second, I know what it feels like to be Mrs. Cheer. (It’s not a super-happy feeling. It’s exactly the opposite.)
Finally, Charlotte speaks up. “We’re changing th
e Unicorns to a drama club.”
What?
I realize I am blinking really, really fast, almost like my eyelashes are butterfly wings. I can’t stop them. “I don’t understand,” I say, not looking at her, but at Siri.
Siri shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. But it matters to me. It matters a whole lot. Then Siri grins a fake smile that doesn’t look like her usual smile at all and says, “We all like drama. You do too.”
There’s something really frustrating about someone telling you that you like something, even if that someone happens to be your best friend and knows that you really do like that something. It’s still really frustrating. And that’s how I feel right about now.
I shake my head. “That’s not the point. You can’t just change the Unicorns.” This time I am speaking to Charlotte. “We have to vote on it—as a group.”
Charlotte juts her chin out and crosses her arms in front of her. “Then vote.”
It’s a challenge. And as much as I’d like to run away and hide, I don’t.
I sit at the lunch table, and my so-called friends sit across from me. Behind me stands a line of girls backing me up. These are my best friends, friends I met in the pages of books. They remind me to be strong and believe in myself. They join hands with one another, making a fence behind me. Jo, Meg, Mary, Hermione, Harriet, India Opal, Dorothy, Alice, and Karana.
I look around at my friends, but none of them will meet my eyes.
“All those in favor of the Unicorns becoming a drama club, raise your hands.” Charlotte puts her hand in the air, of course. She’s already made her position clear. What I am not prepared for is this:
Siri raises her hand.
Daisy raises her hand.
Jessica doesn’t raise her hand. But it’s not enough. Charlotte smirks at me.
“Three against two—you lose.”
“The Unicorns is a book club, not a drama club,” I tell them. “It’s like turning a mystery book into a fantasy book. It can’t just change like that.”
But it’s too late. A vote is a vote. Charlotte stands and tilts her head to the side, waiting for the group to fall in line behind her.
I wonder what just happened. How my book club was destroyed in a matter of seconds.
“I thought you liked book club?” I say softly to Siri.
“I do,” Siri answers with a quick look at Charlotte. “Sometimes it’s nice to try something new.”
“Daisy?” I ask. But I know the answer before she speaks.
“It’s not personal,” Daisy tries to say.
“Sorry, Ruby,” Jessica offers. “We tried.”
But I shake my head. I don’t want to hear any more. I really don’t.
And just like that, the Unicorn Book Club is dead.
I sit alone at the lunch table. This is what I have been dreading—the thing I feared the most. All I feel is empty, like I have been hollowed out with an ice-cream scooper. I sit there, staring at the empty lunch bench. And for once, I don’t care if I cry in public because the tears wouldn’t stop even if I asked them. I don’t notice that Will P is sitting next to me until he hands me a wrinkled napkin. I take it and wipe my eyes—then I realize it might be a used wrinkled napkin. Ewwwww! I hand it back, now wet with tears.
“Thanks.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. I shrug. If I speak, the window will open and the tears will flow through again. Instead, I look down at his socks. Today Will is wearing bright-yellow socks with life-size grasshoppers all over them. For a split second, the socks make me forget everything.
Then Will says, “It’s the book club, isn’t it?” I manage a small nod. Will shrugs, “I heard Charlotte and Siri talking. So I guess they want to focus on drama instead of reading.”
I sniffle a little at that. The way Will tells it, the situation sounds way more straightforward. It doesn’t seem like I just lost all my friends. It seems more like they want to try another activity. I wish that were true.
“I like reading,” Will offers. “Maybe I could be in your book club.”
It’s not a bad idea, actually. Instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself, I could start a new book club. It seems very Nancy Drew of me, not to wallow but to move forward.
“Would you really want to be in my book club?” I ask him. “Really?”
Will nods. “Just one thing though.” He holds up his hand to stop me. “We have to change the name. I’m not going to be in the Unicorns. Way too girlie.”
“Unicorns aren’t girlie at all,” I argue. “Maybe the ones you see on stickers with pink horns and purple sparkly tails. But not the magical ones, not the Harry Potter–style unicorns.”
Will just watches me with one eyebrow raised. But the truth is, even if I could convince him to become a Unicorn, I can’t use the name. The Unicorns have moved on without me. “I guess we can pick a new name. Any ideas?”
“Polar Bears,” Will says. “I want to be the Polar Bears Book Club.”
“I like polar bears,” I say. “But I like other bears too. Why them?”
Will sits up straighter in his seat, pushes his glasses up on his nose, and takes a giant breath.
“Polar bears are at the top of the food chain, live exclusively in the Arctic, and are the largest land carnivores in the world. They are classified as marine mammals because they spend so much time in the water. Most importantly, experts believe that polar bears are in danger of becoming extinct in the next fifty years because of the loss of sea ice. As an added bonus, they are extremely cute. Need I say more?”
It is impossible not to like Will P. He is just that kind of person, the kind that can make you smile even when you are having the worst day of your life. So that’s what I do right now. I smile. “OK, Will. Polar Bears win.”
Will claps his hands together. “Wondermazing! Now, what do you actually do at a book club?”
“The best part about book club is that we are all reading the same book at the same time. It’s fun because we can share ideas and thoughts about the story and characters. Everyone gets to ask one question of the group to get the discussion started. Like, ‘Why do you think Winn–Dixie ran away?’ Something like that. Oh, and we share lunch just like we share ideas.”
Will nods, “Got it.”
I think of something then. We don’t have a book to read. “Will, we need to choose a book, even if we don’t have time to read it. So we can at least have something to talk about.”
Will offers me half a chocolate-chip cookie. I don’t have much of an appetite, but the friendly thing to do is to at least take the cookie. So I do.
I expect this to take a really long time, but he manages on the first try.
“The Secret Merlin Society.”
My grin almost cracks my face in two, and I nearly fall right off the bench. I am that excited. The Secret Merlin Society is a brand-new book about a group of kids in sixth grade who have a secret society where they perform magic to save the world. “That’s a super-fantastical choice, Will.”
Will grins back at me. “You used my word, fantastical. Don’t worry. I’ll let you borrow it. Oh, can I bring some friends too?”
I shrug. “The more the merrier, isn’t that what they say?” A teeny-weeny voice inside my head says, “Not so fast, Starr. You might be making one ginormous mistake.” OK, maybe the voice isn’t really so teeny-weeny. Maybe it’s actually screaming in my ear. But it’s too late, because Will has already run off to find his friends and tell them about the Polar Bears. No, this will have to be what my dad calls “a learning experience,” which is another word for making a lowercase m mistake and then having to make the best of it.
My happiness at being part of a new book club doesn’t help me with the stomach jitters that attack for the rest of the school day. Daisy and Jessica go out of their way to be really nice to me. It’s like t
hey know how bad they made me feel and are trying to fix it. Somehow, even though it shouldn’t, their niceness makes me feel worse. Siri barely makes eye contact. And during the last hour of class, when Mrs. Cheer lets us work on a word search with partners, Siri goes to Charlotte’s desk without even looking my way. I know because I watch her the entire time. I work by myself. Sometimes it’s easier to be alone than to pretend with someone else.
In my hand, I hold a small glass jar filled with sparkly gold dust. It can make any wish come true. I make my wish: to be completely and totally invisible. I open the jar and pour the dust over my head. Instantly, I disappear. My green sneakers are all that remain to show where I am. The worst part is, no one even notices that I am gone.
Chapter 12
The Lowercase m Mistake
When the bell finally rings and I can escape, I grab my backpack without talking to anyone. Mrs. Cheer stands at the doorway, waving good-bye to us with a pretend smile on her face. But I know she is secretly thrilled that this day is finally over, and she can go home. Mrs. Cheer and I have a lot in common at the moment. Because I am thrilled that this day is finally over too. I run to the front of school to meet Gram. I run like I am being chased by a wicked witch on a broom: super-duper, extra-speedy fast.
“Hi, pumpkin,” Gram calls out. Her arms are open wide for a hug even before I reach them. I crash right into her, nearly knocking her over. Then I nestle into her red sweater for a few seconds, but that’s all. I know if I let myself stay in her hug for too long, I will be a puddle of embarrassment on the front lawn of school. Instead, I pull away and take her hand.
“Can we go to the library?” I ask her.
“My favorite place,” she answers as she takes my backpack and slings it over her shoulder. “I’d love to.”
On the way, I fill her in on the details of the Very Horrible Day (which is what I have named today). She laughs when I tell her about Mrs. Cheer and then frowns when she hears about the destruction of the Unicorn Book Club.
Ruby Starr Series, Book 1 Page 8