Ruby Reinvented

by Ronni Arno

  “It’s great.” I smile.

  “I’m glad you like it. It must be quite different than home.”

  Oh no. Of course Mrs. Kearney knows who my parents are. They registered me!

  Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I try to think of something to say to change the subject, but my mind is blank. I hold my breath, waiting for her to say something else and blow my cover.

  “Can we bring you back a lobster roll?” Holly asks.

  I exhale.

  Mrs. Kearney laughs. “No thanks, Holly, but you’re sweet to ask. Say hi to your folks for me.”

  “We will,” Holly says. “Have a good night.”

  Summer rolls her eyes and whispers to me, “Holly’s the ninth grade class president. That’s why she’s so insanely friendly with everyone who works here.”

  I nod as if this makes perfect sense. All I know is that Holly just saved my life.

  The front door opens, and Summer leaps off the couch toward the two people who walk in. They must be her parents. I stand and subtly floof my hair.

  “Mommy!” Summer hugs her mom, who looks exactly like Holly in older form, and then she hugs her Dad, who looks exactly like Summer in man form. Holly hugs them next, and I just stand by the couch smiling like a dork. I fold my hands in front of me but realize that looks a little creepy, so I force my arms to just hang at my side.

  Summer’s mom gives Connor a hug, and Summer’s dad shakes his hand.

  “You must be Bea.” Summer’s mom comes toward me with her arms outstretched.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say after she releases me from a hug.

  “We’re so happy you’ll be joining us,” Summer’s mom says. “I’m Veronica, and this is Eric.” She motions to Summer’s dad, who gives me a handshake instead of a hug.

  “It’s finally getting nice outside, so we thought we’d walk, if that’s okay with you, Bea,” Eric says.

  “Sure,” I say. I’m glad I wore my Converses—comfortable but fashionable and the spot-on choice with my T-shirt dress.

  “Look at Bea’s dress, Mom,” Summer says. “She made it.”

  “You made that?” Veronica holds the door open for us, and we all pile out onto the walkway.

  “Yes.” I look down at my sneakers. She probably thinks it’s ridiculous.

  “Wow,” Veronica says. “You’re really talented.”

  I jerk my head up and smile uncontrollably. Nobody has ever called me talented before. Nobody ever. When you’re the daughter of a supermodel-turned–television star and the best pitcher in the major leagues, regular, everyday talent doesn’t look too interesting.

  “That’s why I needed the T-shirts.” Summer grabs a shopping bag out of Veronica’s hand. “Thanks for bringing them!”

  The smile is still glued to my face as we walk into town. Holly’s walking behind us with her parents. Summer, as usual, is skipping ahead. Which means I’m walking with Connor. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress and give myself a pat on the back for making the dress out of cotton.

  “You’ll love Clara’s,” Connor says.

  “It’s good?” I ask, and give myself a mental face palm. Of course it’s good, Ruby. He just said you’d love it.

  “It’s my favorite restaurant in town.” Connor either doesn’t notice my stupid question or he chooses to ignore it.

  “It’s really nice of Summer’s parents to take us out.”

  “Oh yeah, they’re awesome.” Connor pauses. “When did it happen?”

  I glance at him. “When did what happen?”

  “Your parents.” He’s looking down at the sidewalk. “When did they—when did they pass away?”

  Uh-oh. The neurons in my brain are firing blanks. I can’t think of an answer. Did I tell Summer when they pretend “died”? I don’t remember! And I have to be sure to keep my story straight if—

  “I’m sorry.” Connor hangs his head even lower than it was before. “That was rude of me to ask.”

  “Oh, no—not at all,” I stammer. “It’s just that I—I don’t remember much about it. Them. I was really little.”

  Connor nods.

  “How about you?” I don’t really want to talk about dead parents, but since he asked about mine, I guess I should ask about his.

  “I was six.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes.

  “Wow.” I look over at him, but he’s not looking at me. “How’d it happen?”

  “Car accident.”

  “Wow.”

  “How about you?”

  “What?”

  “How did your parents die?”

  Oh, right.

  “Um, same.” I can’t think of anything else to say, so I say the first thing that pops into my mind. How could I be so stupid? I could have said something else. Anything else. Fire, plane crash, train wreck, deadly virus, killer bees. But no, I don’t think of those other things fast enough, so not only does Connor think that we both have dead parents, but he also thinks they died the same way. This can’t be good.

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?” This time he looks at me. Right at me.

  “Totally,” I say.

  Chapter

  11

  I LEARN TWO new things tonight. Lobster rolls are to die for. And Parents’ Weekend is six weeks away.

  “Is your nana coming up?” Summer asks. “If she isn’t, you can hang with us.”

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “I haven’t talked to her about it. I didn’t even know there was a Parents’ Weekend.”

  “It’s a huge deal at Midcoast. You’ll see.” Summer takes a bite of her second lobster roll.

  “Summer, don’t freak her out,” Holly says.

  “What? It is a big deal. There’s the Spotlight Project, and of course the dance. That’s the best part.” As much as I dread finding a way to keep my parents away from Parents’ Weekend, I’m kinda excited about the dance. I’ve never been to a school dance before.

  After dinner we roll ourselves out of Clara’s and make our way back to the dorms. We pass the chocolate shop and the ice cream shop, but I’m too stuffed to want to stop.

  “Check it out, Mom.” Holly points to a newsstand next door to the ice cream shop. “National Geographic’s ocean issue is out.” She runs over to the magazine and immediately flips through it.

  Summer rolls her eyes. “Have you ever seen anyone get so excited about whales?”

  I laugh, until I notice that Summer, Connor, and I are right in front of the tabloid section. And smack in front of my nose is Celebrity Scuttlebutt magazine. And who’s on the cover of Celebrity Scuttlebutt this month? Zack Miller, Celestine Cruz, and their daughter—whose face is hidden in this particular picture—leaving Sarriette’s.

  I can taste the lobster roll coming back up, but there’s no way I can puke now. Breathe, Ruby. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in. I have to get everyone out of here. Now. Before someone decides to flip through Celebrity Scuttlebutt. What if there’s a photo of me inside? I do a quick check of everyone’s location. Holly and her mom are still looking at National Geographic. Eric is reading something in Newsweek. Summer and Connor are still right next to me, and I’m still right in front of Celebrity Scuttlebutt.

  Without thinking, I point to the magazine rack that’s as far away as possible from the tabloids. “Wow! Look at that!”

  “What?” Summer asks, following the direction of my finger.

  I walk toward the rack, with my finger pointing.

  “Popular Mechanics?” Connor asks.

  “Uhhhh.” Yep, I’m in the car section. “Yeah. Cool, right?”

  “I didn’t know you liked engines.” Connor was beaming.

  “Well, I don’t. I mean, I do, but . . . it’s just that I love the picture on the cover.” Great. Another lie.

  “What is it?” Summer cocks her head to one side, as if looking at the cover from a different angle will help her figure it out.

  I purse my lips. I have no idea what it is. It’s just a bunch of metal parts clumped
together in the shape of a snail.

  “It’s a turbocharger,” Connor says, as if everyone knows that.

  “Yeah, it’s a turbocharger.” I nod. “A nice one.”

  Connor looks at me and smiles. “I’m impressed that you know what that is.”

  I wave my hand in front of my face, desperate to end this conversation and leave the newsstand. But Connor’s distracted by another magazine, and we follow him to the next rack.

  “It’s the new issue of Astronomy.” He picks it up and stares at the cover, which shows a photo of a giant telescope.

  “How cool would this be for the observation deck?” Connor asks Summer.

  “That’d be awesome.” Her eyes are as big as the telescope.

  “I’m putting together plans to build an observation deck off the science room,” Connor explains. “Summer’s dad is helping me.”

  “That’s really cool,” I say. Before I can say anything else, Summer’s mom waves us over.

  “You guys ready?” she asks.

  “Yep!” I’m the first one back on the sidewalk.

  We’re about a block past the newsstand when the back of my neck sprouts sprinklers. What happens if someone from Midcoast goes to that newsstand and looks inside Celebrity Scuttlebutt? What happens if I’m in there? I’ve got to get rid of those magazines. And I’ve got to get rid of them now—before it’s too late.

  “Uh-oh.” I stop walking. Everyone else stops too. “I think I dropped some money out of my pocket. Must have been while we were at the newsstand.”

  “That’s okay, Bea,” Veronica says. “We can go back and look. It’s only a block—”

  “No, I’ll go.” I turn around and break into a light jog. “I’ll be right back.”

  “We’ll come with you.” Summer starts running to catch me.

  “No, really, I’ll be right back.” And I run faster than I’ve ever run before.

  Every few seconds I glance behind me to be sure nobody’s following. They’re not. Not yet anyway.

  There’s a huge stack of Celebrity Scuttlebutt magazines, and I quickly realize I can’t hide them all. I run up to the cashier, breathless.

  “How many of those do you have?” I point to the stack.

  “Whatever’s there,” he says.

  I peek my head down the block to be sure nobody’s coming. “I’ll take all of them.”

  “All of them? I don’t even know how many are there. It will take me a minute to count them.”

  “I don’t have a minute. How many do you think there are?”

  The cashier walks over to the stack and starts counting. “Probably about seventy-five. Maybe one hundred.”

  “And how much are they?” I pull my wallet out of my purse.

  “Three dollars each.”

  I try to do the math in my head. I’m figuring one hundred magazines because I want to make sure I get all of them, and anyway, one hundred is way easier to multiply by three than seventy-five.

  I pull out my credit card and shove it into the cashier’s hand “Just put three hundred dollars on there.”

  Another peek down the street, and I see that Summer and Connor are walking this way.

  Chapter

  12

  THE CASHIER LOOKS at me through squinty eyes and hands me my receipt. “Can you carry all of those?”

  “I don’t need to,” I say. “Can you just take them all, and throw them away?”

  “You want me to throw them away?”

  “Yes.” I nod so hard my head hurts. Connor and Summer are getting closer.

  He shrugs. “Okay, you bought ’em.”

  “Thank you.” I turn to go, and I bump into Connor so hard that I almost knock him down.

  “Did you find your money?” he asks.

  “Yep.” I tap my purse. “All fine now.”

  I smile at Summer and Connor and hope there’s not sweat dripping off my nose.

  We catch up with Summer’s parents, and they walk us back to the dorms. By the time we get there, my heart rate is almost back to normal. Summer’s folks give us all hugs, and her mom reminds Holly and Summer to text or call every night.

  “We always do,” Holly says.

  “So do you talk to your parents every night?” I ask Summer when we’re back in our room.

  “Yeah, either that or text. It was the only way Mom would let us board here. We live so close that Holly was a day student for a while. I wasn’t old enough to come here yet, so I went to our town’s public school. Holly was always saying she missed out on the fun, so when it was time for me to start middle school, we begged my parents to let us board. Dad was cool with it but Mom wouldn’t budge. Finally, when we promised we’d text or call every single day and have dinner once a week and even come home once in a while on weekends, she agreed.”

  I wonder if my parents would go for texting instead of FaceTime. It would make my life a lot easier. Speaking of my parents, I look at my phone. I have an hour until eight o’clock. I can’t wait until my boxes from home arrive. At least then I’ll have headphones.

  “Well, I’m going to shower.” Summer kicks off her shoes and throws them in her closet.

  “Already?” I jump in front of her. I need her to wait an hour.

  She gives me a funny look. “Why not?”

  “I thought, uhhhh, well, I thought we’d go through some of the T-shirts your mom brought. You know, to pick out the ones you want for your ultra-crazy dress.”

  Summer breaks out into a huge smile. “Great idea.”

  We sit on the floor, and she flings T-shirts into two piles. Only the really colorful ones make it into the pile for the dress.

  “You should totally apply for the Parents’ Weekend Spotlight Project. You could submit your designs.” Summer flings a neon-green-striped shirt into the dress pile.

  “What’s a Spotlight Project?” I ask.

  “Every Parents’ Weekend, we display projects we’ve been working on. It doesn’t have to be stuff we do in school. It could be things we do on our own time. Each year, one person gets picked for the Spotlight Project, which parents and teachers make a really big deal of. Plus, you get a hundred-dollar prize. Holly got chosen for the Spotlight Project last year. She built a biodome. It was filled with snails and frogs and pond scum.”

  “Pond scum?” I wrinkle my nose.

  “Holly loves pond scum.”

  I furrow my eyebrows.

  “She wants to be a marine biologist. That’s why she freaks out about whales.”

  “Ahhhh,” I say.

  “Anyway, you should totally apply for this year’s Spotlight Project!”

  “Oh, I don’t know. My dresses really aren’t that great.”

  “The one you’re wearing is amazing.” Summer jumps up. “Do you have other ones you’ve made?”

  “I have a bunch, but this is the only one I packed in my suitcase. The rest of my stuff should be here tomorrow, I hope.”

  “Cool.” Summer focuses on the T-shirt pile again. “I can’t wait till your stuff gets here.”

  I wonder if she’ll like my other dresses as much as she likes the one I’m wearing. What if she hates them? Then she’ll realize I’m a one-hit wonder, and this one was just a fluke. I bite the inside of my cheek.

  “Hopefully your nana can come to Parents’ Weekend, especially if you’re the Spotlight Project,” Summer says.

  “Oh yeah. I’ll tell her about it.”

  “You won’t even have to. The school starts sending e-mails and invitations home way in advance. Mom mentioned that she got one today.”

  “They send stuff to our parents?” My stomach flip-flops and I add, “Or guardian?”

  “Yep. I’m telling you, it’s a really big deal. I’ll bet your nana comes. Even Connor’s uncle comes.”

  “His uncle?” The sound of Connor’s name takes my attention away from the fact that my pretend-dead parents may or may not have already received an invitation to Parents’ Weekend.

  “Yeah, he’
s the one who took Connor after his parents died. He lives in Boston. Connor hated it there. His uncle works all the time so he never saw him. It was really hard on him, being so little and alone.” Summer tilts her head. “Well, you know.”

  She looks like she’s waiting for me to say something. I don’t know what to say because I really don’t know, so I just nod and look sad. I’m not even faking it, either. Thinking of poor little Connor all alone really does make me sad.

  “So he’s not close with his uncle?”

  “No.” Summer shakes her head. “They hardly see each other. Connor’s uncle sends him to camp during summer break, and hardly ever visits him at school.”

  I want to ask Summer more about Connor, but she changes the subject before I get the chance.

  “Enough shirts to make the dress?” Summer admires the T-shirt pile.

  “Yep, that’s plenty.”

  “Where do you want them?” Summer piles the T-shirts in her arms. I hold open a paper bag, and she dumps them all in.

  “You can put them next to my desk, and I’ll start on the dress this week.”

  “Really? You sure you don’t mind?” Summer’s bouncing on her toes.

  “Not at all. It’ll be fun!”

  “Thanks! You’re a great friend, Bea.”

  Hearing her call me a great friend makes me smile so hard my mouth hurts. But there’s a tiny pull in my stomach, reminding me that a great friend wouldn’t lie about her parents being dead.

  “I’m going to hop in the shower.” Summer grabs her shower gear. My heart races, until I look at the clock on my desk: 7:58. Perfect timing.

  “Okay.” I sit down and uncover my iPad. “I’m just going to check my e-mail.”

  Summer closes the bedroom door, and my parents ring in about five seconds later. My shoulders relax. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

  Mom and Dad appear in their little boxes on my screen, and I instantly launch into my day. Based on last night’s shower, I have about fifteen minutes, and I want to be sure I tell them everything so they won’t get suspicious. I fill them in on Greek democracy, the anatomy of a plant, and the fact that I will never, ever understand how to read music. I tell them about Clara’s Café and lobster rolls and Summer’s family. We talk about the weather and Mom’s taping and Dad’s practice. The only thing I don’t bring up is Parents’ Weekend.