by Ronni Arno
“Where’s your mother?” Dad asks me.
I shrug. “You know she takes forever to get ready.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Mom calls from the front porch. Her heels are at least three inches tall, but she effortlessly glides down the porch stairs toward the waiting car. I look down at my ballet-slippered feet and decide that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be as glamorous or beautiful as her. Never.
Mom slides in next to me, and Jimmy closes the door behind her. He then makes his way to the driver’s seat, and we roll down the driveway toward Sarriette’s.
Nobody says anything about my dress. As usual. I shake off the slight sadness I feel. I’m sure if my parents weren’t so busy, they’d notice my designs.
“Isn’t this so nice?” Mom squeezes my arm with one hand and uses the other to look at her makeup in a compact mirror. “All of us together?”
I smile. We haven’t been together in weeks. It’s been like this since I was little, so I hardly remember any other way. Ellie takes care of me most of the time, and I FaceTime with my parents every night. I never realize just how much I miss them until they come back.
We pull into a dark parking lot, and the car stops at what I assume is the back door of Sarriette’s. Jimmy gets out first, and Mom, Dad, and I stay in the car. He knocks on the door, and a guy in a suit steps outside and talks with him. He nods, and Jimmy comes back to the car to open the door for us.
“Looks like we’re all set.” Dad rubs his belly. “I can taste the garlic from here.”
Suit Man opens the door for us, and we walk through a very busy kitchen. Pots and pans clang, until the workers look up and see us. The clanging gets quieter. A few stare, but nobody says anything. Suit Man leads us into a small, back room with just a few tables, and motions to one of them. I can hear the hustle and bustle of people talking and plates clanking from the next room, but I can’t see anyone else. As promised, we’re alone.
A waitress comes in with water and menus.
“I think we know what we’d like,” Dad says to the waitress, who smiles politely but looks at him with googly eyes. Even people who aren’t baseball fans recognize Dad, since he’s always in lots of magazines, and he’s even a spokesperson for a really popular men’s cologne that smells like a combination of fresh air and Astroturf. “Bea?”
“I’d like the ravioli, please.”
“And I’ll have the caprese salad,” Mom says.
“The cavatelli and broccoli for me.” Dad hands the waitress our menus, then adds, “With extra garlic.”
After we place our order, the subject turns to school, which of course I knew it would. This is my chance. My big moment to tell them what I want for my birthday.
“Actually,” I begin. “School hasn’t been great.”
“Oh no, honey.” Mom furrows her eyebrows. “I thought things were going well.”
“They were,” I say. “And then they weren’t.”
“What happened?” Her eyebrows are practically touching now.
“My friends just didn’t turn out to be who I thought they were.” It took me days to come up with that line, and I practiced it again and again. I don’t want to give them too much information, but I want to make my point clear. I think that line says just enough without giving up too much. At least I hope so.
“So that brings me to my birthday present.” I take a deep breath in. My parents are staring at me, and Mom’s eyebrows are still furrowed.
“I’d like to go away to school.” There. I said it. I exhale.
“What do you mean, away?” Mom asks.
“Like to a boarding school. In Maine.”
“In Maine?” Dad asks. Now his eyebrows are furrowed too.
“Yes. It’s called Midcoast Academy. And I’d like to go there.”
“How did you hear about this place?” Mom asks.
My palms get sweaty. I knew this question was coming, and I’m prepared. I hold my head up high. “I did some research.”
“Research?” Dad squints his eyes, which is what he does when he’s confused.
“Yes.” I hold my head up higher.
“You do know how far Maine is from California?” Mom asks.
“Yes, I do.”
“Why would you want to be so far away, Bea?” Dad rolls up his sleeves, but he keeps looking at me through squinty eyes.
“It’s not that I want to be far away,” I say. “It’s just that I want to go to this particular school.” Although this isn’t the entire truth, it sounds very convincing coming out of my mouth. Probably because I’ve also practiced this line a hundred times. So far, I’ve anticipated all of their questions.
“What is it about this school that you like so much?” Mom asks. The waitress comes into the room with dinner salads. We all stop talking while she puts them on the table.
“I want to broaden my horizons,” I say, after the waitress leaves.
“Broaden your horizons?” Mom asks slowly.
“Yes. I’ve lived in California for my whole entire life. You and Dad are friends with celebrities, so I know a few celebrity kids, but I don’t know any normal kids. And I know you think the kids I go to school with are normal kids, but they’re not. Normal kids don’t get dropped off at school in limos. Normal kids aren’t obsessed with being famous.”
“You think your friends at school are like that?” Mom asks.
“I know they are.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
“Well, Bea,” Dad says in between bites of salad. “This is a pretty big decision. I think your mom and I need some more time to think about it.”
“But today’s my birthday. It’s all I want for a present.”
“I know, hon,” Mom says. “But this isn’t a decision we can make in one night. We need to check out the school, learn more. Maybe we can all go visit over the summer and you can start next year—”
“I don’t want to start next year.” I blink back tears. “I want to start now.”
“Why all of a sudden?” Mom asks.
“It’s not all of a sudden.” I twist my napkin around my fingers. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. It’s just that you haven’t been here to talk about it.”
“We’d hardly ever see you.” Mom squeezes my hand.
“We’d still FaceTime. That’s what we do now anyway.”
I try not to play the guilt card too often, but tonight I have to put it on the table. I know my parents feel guilty that they’re not around as much as they’d like. As I look at their faces, I know I got them. They feel bad.
I’m just not sure if they feel bad enough.
The waitress comes with our main course. Even though my stomach is jumpy, I practically inhale my ravioli. It is that good.
“I know this isn’t the present you really want.” Dad hands me a small box, gift-wrapped in shiny orange wrapping paper. “But we hope you like it.”
I unwrap the box, open it up, and find a silver chain with a shiny ruby dangling from it. “Thank you,” I say. “I love it.” And I really do. I almost feel bad for trying to guilt my parents into letting me go to boarding school.
Almost.
I decide not to say anything more about school until we get home. I don’t want them to think I don’t appreciate their gift.
After scarfing down a double-chocolate-mousse cake, we pay the check, and Suit Man escorts us out of the room. He opens the back door, and we head back to the parking lot, where we are met with a sudden bombardment of cameras and flashes.
Dad puts his arm around my shoulder and shields my face with his jacket. There are paparazzi everywhere. Jimmy is trying to drive the car toward us, but photographers just jump right in front of him. I wonder if it’s illegal to run them over.
One of the photographers steps right in front of me, and Dad shoves him so hard that he falls. I stumble over him and wind up on my butt. Dad pulls me up and out of the way of the others, who seem to be multiplying. The bright lights are bli
nding me, and everyone’s yelling at once—including Mom, who’s using some very rude words. Jimmy finally reaches us and stops the car. He jumps out of the driver’s seat and opens the back door. He grabs Mom’s arm and ushers her in. I put my hands over my ears and squeeze my eyes shut as Dad pulls me into the car and slams the door.
The second the door closes, Jimmy peels out of the parking lot onto La Cienega Boulevard.
“Are you okay, Bea?” Dad asks.
“Yeah,” I say. I look down at my beautiful silver dress, which is covered in dirt. At least it’s not ripped. I’m sure I can get the dirt out. A rip would have been much harder to fix.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” Jimmy says. “They appeared out of nowhere.”
“That’s okay, Jimmy,” Dad says. “They always do.”
“We were so careful.” Mom throws her hands up in the air. “What is wrong with these people? Why can’t they let anyone enjoy a family night out?”
“They’re pariahs,” Dad says, “but they’re just doing their jobs.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know how they sleep at night.” Mom’s face is flushed.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “This is why I want to go to Maine.” I’m surprised by how quietly this comes out.
Mom and Dad just look at me.
“This isn’t normal,” I say.
Now Mom and Dad look at each other. I swear they have some secret mind-reading thing going on. Mom sighs, and Dad nods. It’s not an actual conversation, but I know they’re thinking the same thing.
“Okay, hon,” Mom says. “We’ll look into this Midcoast Academy. No promises, though. We need to learn much more about it.”
I lean over and give Mom a giant hug. I immediately know, deep down in my heart, that they’ll let me go. I try to hide my beaming smile as I think about the fact that I will soon be away from Sophie and Damon and Hollywood and paparazzi. I will soon be a student of Midcoast Academy.
I will soon be normal.
Chapter
4
I GO TO school the next day but fake feeling sick, hoping everyone will leave me alone. It doesn’t work.
“How was Sarriette’s?” Sophie asks during lunch.
“How’d you know I was at Sarriette’s?” I pull the lid off my bowl of fruit salad.
“There were pictures online. Your dad’s arm was blocking most of your face, but of course I knew it was you.”
At least my face wasn’t showing. My parents hate it when my picture gets out.
“So your parents are home?” Sophie pops a piece of pineapple into her mouth.
“Yeah, till Friday.”
“Maybe I can come over after school this week. We can hang out.” I stare at her. My blood boils as I look at her fake smile and her fake fingernails and the fake BFF necklace that I gave her for Christmas. I want to tell her that I know. I want to tell her that she isn’t fooling me. I want to tell her that she’s evil and rotten and mean. I want to tell her, but I don’t. I do, however, notice that she’s got lettuce in her teeth. I don’t tell her that, either, and knowing that she’s walking around with green teeth calms me down a little.
Somehow I make it through the rest of the day, and my parents are both on the deck when I get home.
“How was school, Bea?” Dad asks. He’s standing over a pitcher of iced tea and pours me a glass.
“Not great.” I take a sip. “Did you get a chance to look at the Midcoast Academy website?”
“Yes,” Mom answers. “And while it looks lovely, you can’t tell everything from a website. I think we need to visit. Maybe we can do that next month when Dad and I are home for a few weeks and—”
“I can’t wait another month,” I interrupt her.
“It’s just a month, hon.” Mom takes my hand.
“That’s another month I’d have to spend at school.” Tears fill my eyes, and no matter how hard I try to suck them back into my head, it’s no use. They spill out.
“Oh, hon.” Mom stands up and pulls me into a hug. “What is going on at school?”
I have no choice. If I never want to step foot in that school again, I know I’ve got to talk. In between sobs, I tell them everything. I tell them about Sophie and Damon and how they think I’m lame and boring and ugly.
“Bea.” Dad takes my shoulders. “Those kids are just insecure and mean. I hope you don’t believe what they said.”
I don’t know what I believe. All I know is that the thought of going back to that school and seeing Sophie’s awful face makes my insides feel all twisted up.
“You are a beautiful girl, inside and out.” Dad smiles and his eyes crinkle. “Your real friends will see that.”
“That’s just it,” I say. “I don’t have real friends here. That’s why I want to try something new.”
“I know, hon, but we won’t have time to get to Maine before Dad and I have to get back on the road,” Mom says.
“Can’t Ellie go with me?” I know my parents have total trust in Ellie.
Mom and Dad look at each other, and I can tell they’re having another one of their psychic conversations.
“I suppose she could,” Mom says. “But we need to ask her.”
I break out in a smile and fling open the French doors leading into the house. “Ellie! Ellie!” I run into the kitchen and find her sitting at the desk in front of the computer. “Can you come onto the deck? We want to ask you something.”
“What is it, Bea?” Ellie asks as I grab her by the hand and pull her outside.
Mom and Dad are both standing now, talking to each other quietly.
“What is it, Bea?” Ellie asks again, pieces of her gray hair falling out of her bun.
“Well,” Mom begins. “It seems Ruby is interested in attending a boarding school in Maine.”
“Maine?” Ellie asks. “So far away, Bea?”
“I want to experience new things,” I say in my most grown-up voice.
“I see,” Ellie says, smoothing her bun with her hands.
“Ellie, would it be too much to ask of you to visit the school with Ruby? Zack has three games on the road, and I’m in the middle of a ten-city audition tour for the show. Ruby is very anxious to learn more about this place.” Mom is talking to Ellie but looking at me, her eyebrows furrowed yet again.
“Of course, Ms. Celestine,” Ellie says. “Of course I will go with her.”
I jump up and down and throw my arms around Ellie. “Thank you! Thank you!”
“Can you ask Kathy to make the call and set up the visit?” Mom asks Ellie.
Ellie jots something down in a notebook she pulls out of her pocket and goes back inside. Mom and Dad are staring at me.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Bea?” Dad asks.
“I’m sure.” I nod so hard I think my head might fall off.
“Okay,” Dad says. “But if you like it, and if Ellie gives us the thumbs-up, there will be some rules you’ll have to follow.”
“Anything,” I say.
“You’ll have to keep up with your grades,” Mom says. “And FaceTime us every night, same as now.”
“Of course,” I say. “Of course I will.”
“And one more thing.” Dad’s lips form a straight, thin line. “Don’t come home talking funny. Remember to say your r’s.”
I stare at him blankly, and he cracks up. I laugh too, even though I have no idea why.
Ellie opens the door to the deck and steps outside, notebook in hand. “We’re all set, Bea. We leave tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll tour the school on Friday.”
I bounce up and down for at least a minute, hug my parents, then Ellie, then my parents again—then fly upstairs to my room to pack.
Chapter
5
JIMMY BRINGS US to the Airport. Mom and Dad join us for the ride, and we have a family good-bye hug on the sidewalk outside the terminal. It has to be quick before someone recognizes us.
There are no tears. This is normal for my family. A series of coming
s and goings. Even when I used to go on the road with them, we didn’t spend much time together. They were busy, and I hung out with Ellie. They probably would have rathered Ellie and I stayed home, but I insisted on going with them. It wasn’t until I started middle school that I decided I wanted to go to school instead of being tutored on the road.
Ellie and I board our plane and settle into our first-class seats. Ellie orders a glass of wine the minute we sit down, like she does every time we fly. I must have fallen asleep immediately, because the next thing I realize, I’m waking up to the sound of the captain’s voice.
“We have begun our initial descent into the Portland area, and will be arriving at the Portland International Jetport in approximately twenty minutes. Please make sure your seat belts are fastened, your seats are in their upright position, and your tray tables are secured. It’s been a pleasure having you on board today. Thank you for flying with us.”
“That was fast,” I say through a yawn.
“For you, maybe.” Ellie’s hands are gripping the seat rests. Even though she flies with us all the time, she hates it.
I laugh. “Relax, Ellie. We’re almost there.”
“I will relax when we are on the ground, like human beings belong.” She squeezes her eyes shut.
I stretch and look out the window. It’s dark, but I can see that we’re getting close to landing. I hear a few dings, and Ellie grabs my hand. Her fingernails are digging into my skin, but I don’t say anything. She’s doing me a huge favor by taking me here, and I don’t want her to feel bad—even though she’s leaving crescent-shaped dents in my hand. She loosens her grip when we land and breathes a big sigh of relief as we taxi down the runway.
We’re the first ones off the plane, and it’s a short walk to the baggage area. There’s a driver holding a sign with Ellie’s name on it. We always use Ellie’s name when we travel because we can’t ever use ours. As if it would matter. My parents are instantly recognizable, even without a sign.
The driver helps us with our bags and takes us to his car, a stretch limo.
I groan.