by Ronni Arno
“I’ll leave you to your work, then. Let me know if you need any help.” She gently closes the door behind her. A second later there’s another knock. This time the door swings open before we can even say anything.
Cassandra.
“Jeez, you can’t just barge in here. What if one of us was changing or something?” Summer asks.
Cassandra just rolls her eyes and sits on Summer’s bed. “Did you talk to Connor?”
Summer puts her pencil on the desk.
“Yes.”
“Well, what’d he say?”
“He said he doesn’t dance.”
Cassandra folds her arms across her chest. “What?”
“He doesn’t want to go to the dance with anybody. It’s not personal. He just doesn’t think it’s the kind of thing you take a girl to.”
Cassandra flips her hair and snorts. “Of course it’s the kind of thing you take a girl to. It’s a dance.”
Summer shrugs. “That’s what he said.”
“Is that all he said?”
“Pretty much.”
“Pretty much, or definitely?”
Summer picks up her pencil and taps the pink fuzz on her cheek. “Well, he did say that he didn’t think you guys had a lot in common.”
“He said that?”
“Pretty much.”
“Pretty much, or definitely? What did he say, exactly?”
“I don’t remember exactly.” Summer throws her hands in the air. “I didn’t video the entire conversation.”
Cassandra stands up. “If Connor doesn’t think we have anything in common, then I’ll just have to prove him wrong.”
“But he isn’t wrong,” Summer says.
“You leave that up to me,” Cassandra huffs, and she’s gone as quickly as she came in.
Summer and I look at each other and crack up.
“She’s crazy.” Summer shakes her head. “Connor will never like her.”
I smile.
“You know what I think?” Summer is tapping her pencil against her desk now.
“What?”
“I think he likes you.”
I turn around so fast that my arm knocks my books off of my desk, and they crash to the floor. I bend down to pick them up, which gives me the perfect excuse to hide my face so Summer can’t see how red it is.
“Wh-what? No. Why do you think that?” I stammer as I put my books back on my desk. She smiles. “I can just tell.”
“Did he—did he say something?” I keep my voice cool and steady.
“No, but he talks to you a lot.”
“Yeah, but maybe he’s just friendly.” My stomach is flipping and flopping.
“He’s not.” Summer laughs.
“Well I—I don’t think—”
“You guys do have a lot in common. You know, with your parents and all.”
“That’s not really enough of a reason to like someone, though. I mean, you know, there has to be more than that,” I say.
“You both like baseball,” Summer points out.
That part is true. But I don’t think Connor even knows that I like baseball.
“Anyway, it’s just a hunch. I could be wrong.” Summer goes back to doing her homework, and I go back to pretending to do mine. There’s no way I can concentrate on symbolism and metaphors now I know Connor might actually like me!
I replay my conversation with Summer over in my mind.
I think he likes you. . . . You guys do have a lot in common.
My stomach sinks into my socks when I remember that I’m not who Connor thinks I am. And, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not even sure who I am. Am I Ruby, daughter of celebrities, or am I Bea, daughter of nobody?
Chapter
14
I SCOOT OUT of dinner a little early so I can open up my boxes without Summer there. I tell her I’m heading up to the room, and she volunteers to come with me. I whisper that I have to go to the bathroom, and trust me, she doesn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity, if she knows what I mean. She laughs and gives me a thumbs-up.
I tackle the boxes as soon as I get in the door, and it’s a good thing, too. Right on top of the biggest box is a framed photo of me with my parents. I slip it under my mattress. In this box Ellie packed my clothes and shoes, a few books, Luke and Leia (my two favorite teddy bears), and my headphones.
“Yes!” I say out loud. At least if Summer does hear my conversations, she won’t hear my parents on the other end. I could just pretend I’m talking to Ellie or a friend back home.
I gasp when I open the next box. I didn’t expect that Ellie would send me my fabric collection, but I’m thrilled that she did. I pull out a roll of hot pink chiffon silk that I got in India when Mom did a fashion show in New Delhi. Then I find a sheet of white Italian linen from Rome that I picked up when Dad filmed a cologne commercial there. On top of the rolls of fabric are my collection of accessories. There’s the shabby-chic spool of ribbon from Paris, the antique brass buttons from a New York flea market, and a bag of sequins from a dress that Mom threw out years ago.
At the very bottom of the box is a design I started last year but never finished. I hold it close, touching the lace overlay against my cheek for a few seconds, then gently put it back where it came from—placing everything else carefully on top—and push the box under my bed.
I unpack my clothes and put them in my closet. I’m not sure how all my clothes will fit in here. At home my closet is the size of this entire room, which seems pretty crazy now. I pull out the silver dress I wore on my birthday, just as Summer opens the door.
“Whoa,” she says. “That’s an awesome dress.”
“Thank you.” I put it on a hanger. “It’s one of the ones I made.”
“No. Way.” Summer’s staring at it, her eyes wide. “You made that?” She runs her hand over the soft, shimmering fabric.
“It was pretty easy, really. These sequins here were the only hard part.” I point to the sequins on the straps.
“Bea, you have to apply for the Spotlight Project. You have to.”
“I don’t think they’re good enough to be spotlighted—”
“I just had the best idea!” Summer’s bouncing up and down. “A fashion show! Instead of just submitting your designs, you should do a fashion show!”
“What do you mean? Like with models?”
“Totally! I’ll be a model, and I’m sure Holly and her friends will do it too. I bet Katie and Cassandra would love to. Especially Cassandra. Just make sure she gets a fancy dress.”
Now I’m bouncing up and down too. I imagine everyone looking at my clothes, thinking I actually have a talent. Maybe people would really like them?
“You really think so?” I ask Summer.
“Totally!” We hold hands and bounce up and down together.
“Okay, but I’m not even sure how to apply—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” Summer promises. “It will be pure awesomeness.”
We squeal and jump for several minutes, until Ms. Goldberg peeks her head in and asks us to keep the noise down. Summer helps me put away the rest of my stuff, and I show her the other dresses I’ve made, which she completely goes crazy for. She’s already decided who will wear what dress for the fashion show.
“I’ll be the coordinator, so you don’t have to worry about anything but designing dresses,” she declares.
“But don’t I first have to get accepted as the Spotlight Project?”
“Yeah, but you’ll definitely win. No one else is doing anything as cool as this. Let’s get working on the application now! The deadline is midnight tonight.” Summer opens her computer. We log on to the student portal of Midcoast’s website and click the Spotlight Project application button. There are a bunch of questions that are pretty easy, like “What is your project?” and “How will your project be displayed?” that I answer out loud while Summer types what I say. I’m a little stuck on “Why are you excited about this project?”
&nb
sp; “That’s a hard one to answer.” I pace while Summer sits at the computer, fingers on keyboard, ready to type.
“Why? Just talk out loud about why you want to do this.”
“Well,” I begin. “I’ve always loved to draw dresses because clothes are like the wrapping paper on a present. They don’t change what’s inside, but they brighten up the outside.” I don’t tell her that I’ve been to more fashion shows than I can count, and, while the designs are always beautiful, they don’t always make the person who wears them more beautiful.
“That’s good!” Summer types what I say.
“Then, El—my nana—taught me how to sew, and that was nice because it was something we could do together, just the two of us.”
“Keep going.” Summer’s fingers are flying across the keyboard.
“So, designing and making the dresses combined two things that I love: making people brighter and spending time with—with my nana.” I almost say Ellie again.
“That’s perfect!” Summer hits the submit button, and my application is complete.
I’m so excited about the possibility of winning the Spotlight Project spot that I don’t even think about the fact that it will take place during Parents’ Weekend. That is, until I talk with my parents.
“Hey, Bea,” Dad says. I plug my headphones in, even though Summer is safely in the shower.
“Hi, Dad. Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, baby. How was your day?”
“Great! My stuff came.”
“Oh good,” Mom says. “We got something today too.”
“What’s that?”
“An e-mail about Parents’ Weekend.”
I blink.
“Did you hear me, hon?” Mom says. “It sounds like our connection’s cutting out.”
“Yeah, I heard you. That’s great. I’ve heard about Parents’ Weekend. I think it’s sometime in May.”
“It is, but unfortunately the show doesn’t go on hiatus until June, and your father will be in the middle of the season.”
I suck my cheeks in so I don’t smile. “Oh no. That’s such a shame.” I bite my lower lip, hoping that will make me look sad.
“We’re so disappointed.” Dad frowns.
“Me too,” I say. “But don’t worry about it. It’s probably not that big a deal.”
“I don’t know.” Mom shakes her head. “The e-mail made it seem like it was a big deal. Maybe we could find a way to change our schedules—”
I interrupt her before she can finish that sentence. “All e-mails make everything seem like a big deal, Mom. They probably hire somebody just to send out e-mails like that. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“We don’t want you to feel left out,” Dad tells me. “What if you’re the only kid there without parents in town?”
“I know for sure that I won’t be.” I smile so they know it’s no big deal. “Really, don’t worry about it. Summer already invited some of us to hang out with her parents, since they live close.”
“So there are other parents who aren’t coming?” Mom asks.
“Yeah, a bunch,” I say. I don’t know how many make up a bunch, but I decide that me and Connor are, for the sake of this discussion, a bunch.
“Okay.” Mom presses her lips together. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” I nod.
“We really miss you, Bea,” Dad says.
“I miss you guys too, but there’s only two months left of school, and then I’ll be home all summer. You’ll be sick of me by July.”
Mom and Dad laugh, and I can tell this crisis has been averted. We go on to talk about regular everyday stuff like my English paper and campus food. I don’t mention the Spotlight Project application. Even though they’ve never shown any interest in my dresses, I don’t want to give them any reason to show up.
I get off FaceTime just as Summer finishes her shower. Perfect timing. In fact, today’s been a pretty perfect day. My boxes came, I might get to do a fashion show as the Spotlight Project, and my parents aren’t coming for Parents’ Weekend.
And the best part? Summer thinks Connor might like me.
Right now I’m way too pumped up to even worry about anyone finding out about my parents. I mean, I know it’s wrong to lie, but it’s not like I’m lying for no reason. I’m lying because it’s the only way to know for sure that my friends like me for who I am. That’s a big deal for someone in my situation. I decide that’s the way I have to look at it from now on. I can’t feel bad about it anymore. This is something I have to do. It’s self-preservation. I practically have no choice.
As I wait to fall asleep, all I can think about are dress designs and boys with dimples.
Chapter
15
I WAKE UP to the sound of rain. It’s so dark outside that Summer and I have a hard time getting out of bed. We’re even late for breakfast, so we each grab a bagel and bring it into our first period class, science. Luckily Mr. Desmond isn’t here yet, so we have time to eat. I take my seat behind Connor, who gives me a cute little smile as I scoot past him. I unwrap my bagel and take a bite but almost spit it out when Cassandra walks in.
Cassandra is decked out like I’ve never seen her before. And not in her usual designer clothes and heels. She’s covered—head to toe—in Boston Red Sox gear. Her red sweatpants have the words “RED SOX” embroidered down the leg. She has a blue T-shirt on with a big red B in the center of it. Her blue baseball cap matches her shirt. And she’s wearing sneakers. Of course, these aren’t regular sneakers—they’re dressy sneakers with a cute little wedge heel—but still.
Summer’s eyes don’t leave Cassandra from the minute she walks in until the minute she sits down. Unfortunately, neither do Connor’s.
“What are you wearing?” I hear Summer whisper to Cassandra.
“It’s opening day today.” Cassandra’s bright red lip gloss matches the B on her shirt perfectly. That girl sure knows how to accessorize.
“You like the Sox?” Connor asks.
“Of course,” Cassandra says. “Big Sox fan.”
“Really?” Connor smiles.
“Didn’t you know that?” Cassandra takes her baseball hat off and flips her hair, which still looks perfect even after it was smooshed under a hat in the pouring rain. I touch my own hair, which feels damp and frizzy and completely icky.
Mr. Desmond jogs into class before Connor can answer. He shakes off his umbrella and hangs it on a coatrack in the corner of the classroom.
“Sorry I’m late, gang.” He slips into the chair behind his desk. “It’s a mess out there.”
I pull out my notebook, but there’s no way I can concentrate on science, so I stare at Cassandra. I know she’s not really a Red Sox fan. Yesterday at lunch she admitted that she doesn’t even like baseball. So is this all for Connor? I hear my pulse pounding in my ears. I can’t believe she’s such a faker. Does she really think Connor will ask her to the Spring Fling just because he thinks she likes baseball?
I shake off the feeling that Connor could actually like Cassandra and remember my promise to Mom and Dad—I’ll keep up with my grades. I focus my attention on Mr. Desmond and the reproduction process of plants and plod through all my morning classes. I can’t let myself be distracted by a boy. Especially a boy who might like Cassandra. Even if he is a super-sweet boy who likes baseball.
Cassandra and Katie are already eating by the time we get to lunch.
“Hey, Captain Obvious.” Summer smiles at Cassandra.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassandra peers up at Summer through her Red Sox baseball cap.
“Oh, come on. We know why you’re dressed like that.”
“Yeah, because it’s opening day. Duh.” Cassandra takes off her cap and puts it on the empty seat next to her. Her hair still looks perfect.
“And you know about the Red Sox? Or anything about baseball?” Summer stabs her fork into a piece of pineapple.
“Of course not. But Connor doesn’t need to know that.” C
assandra raises her perfectly plucked eyebrows at Summer.
“I’m staying out of this.” Summer pops the pineapple into her mouth. “Hey, you guys have to see the dresses Bea made!”
“You make dresses?” Katie’s eyes are as big as watermelons. “That’s so cool.”
“Bea’s going to do a fashion show for Parents’ Weekend. You want to model?”
“Well, we don’t know that for sure—” I say.
“For real?” Katie interrupts. “We can be models?”
“Yeah, it’s going to be awesome,” Summer says. “So you’ll do it?”
“Of course!” Katie says.
Cassandra jumps in with “I might do it too.”
“What do you mean, you might? Didn’t you hear me say it’s going to be awesome?”
“I have to see the dresses first.” Cassandra flips her hair.
“Believe me, they’re incredible.” Summer takes a bite of a strawberry. “Why don’t we run up right now and you can take a look. We still have twenty minutes of break left.”
“That sounds great,” Katie says. “What about you, Cassandra?”
“I guess.” Cassandra looks around the cafeteria. “Where’s Connor anyway?”
Summer shrugs. Cassandra looks around the cafeteria again, rolls her eyes, and sighs. “Fine,” she says. I guess since there’s no sign of Connor it’s safe for her to leave.
The rain cleared up, and Summer is jumping over puddles as she goes on and on about the dresses. My cheeks are burning, and I make sure to keep my head down as we walk so nobody can tell. I’m staring at the ground in front of me, which is how I happen to walk right into Connor.
“Yikes, I’m so sorry!” I try to smooth my hair down a bit.
“It’s okay,” Connor says. “I kind of snuck up on you guys.”
“Hey, Connor.” Cassandra jumps in front of me, and for once I’m grateful. This will give my face some time to go back to its normal color.
“Hi, Cassandra.”
“Are you gonna watch the game tonight?” Cassandra takes her Red Sox hat off and shakes out her hair.
“Yeah. What do you think their chances are?” Connor asks.
“Whose chances for what?”