When they leave, I nudge Liddy. “You like Torrance.”
Liddy squints at me, pursing her lips together.
“He’s very handsome,” I tell her.
“And Angel?”
“I guess he’s handsome too. Anyway, I think Torrance was into you.”
“Yeah?”
Liddy reminds me of a seventh grader, giddy about the prospect but too full of pride to admit it. It makes me laugh. Sometimes she’s so oblivious. “Do I have to remind you that you could have any man on this planet if you wanted?”
“Oh, would that were true.” She laughs. “And why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”
“I don’t …” I trail off. “You just … you reminded me of Mom for a second.”
“Because I like that he may like me? Ruby, it’s not like I said I want to jump him.”
“Thanks for the visual,” I grimace.
Liddy and I barely ever talk about sex. The longest conversation we’ve ever had about boys was when I had sex for the first and last time. Liddy gave me an excruciating use protection, be choosy, don’t let a boy push you into something you don’t want speech, and then neither she nor my mom ever mentioned sex and me together in a sentence again.
“Can we go now?” I groan.
Liddy gives me a look. Ignoring my frown, she shrugs toward the door. On our way out, we say goodbye to Daisy, who hands me a napkin filled with scribbly numbers.
“My sister, Racine’s, cell. I’ll tell her you’ll call tonight. You let her show you around.”
Smiling, I tuck the number in my pocket. “Thanks, I will.”
Outside Margarita’s, the dark clouds that hung overhead earlier have dissipated. Bright beams of sunlight hit the sidewalk, igniting glittery flecks of mica embedded in the cement. The air is still crisp, but if the last two days in the Southwest are any sign, it will be sweltering by three.
“So, we live in a haunted forest,” I say as Liddy drags me to the car.
“Isn’t every battlefield haunted?”
“Battlefield?” I choke.
She pulls her burnished eyebrows together, cocking her head as if to say, Duh, Ruby. “You didn’t know the pass through the Sangre de Cristos here was a Civil War battlefield?”
“No. I didn’t realize the Civil War made it this far west.”
“Really? I thought for sure you’d read up on it before we moved.” She shrugs and points east, sweeping her arm in an arc. “The Union fought off the Confederacy in Apache Canyon. The skirmish stopped the Confederates and the Civil War from moving beyond the New Mexico Territory.”
I swallow. “You could’ve told me that before we moved.”
“Like I said, Ruby, I thought you knew.”
Liddy is right. Before Mom died, I would have researched the area to within an inch of its subterranean geography. “Guess I just never got around to it.”
“Well, you’ve had other things on your mind, sweetie.” She grabs my hand, twining her fingers with mine. “Anyway, how many people live in a supposedly haunted forest? It’s pretty cool.”
‘Supposedly haunted’ is as far as Liddy will go. She doesn’t believe in much beyond biology, beakers, and test tubes. “Ghosts and witches,” I snort. “The name, ‘Paso de Demonio,’ it’s creepy, right?”
“Let’s rename it,” she says.
“Okay.” I bite my lip and glance sideways at her. “Any suggestions?”
“How about El Vidente?”
“‘The Seer’?”
“Yeah.” She smiles. “Just imagine what it’s witnessed.”
“Great. Shall we take a vote?”
“All right,” she agrees. “I make a motion that we rename the pass El Vidente. Anyone willing to second the majority?”
“I’ll second,” I pipe in.
“All in favor of El Vidente, raise their hands.”
Liddy and I both raise our hands simultaneously.
“Good. Motion granted.” Liddy claps for effect. “El Vidente, it is.”
When Mom was alive, that’s how the three of us made decisions, especially when we couldn’t all agree. We’ve been doing it for so long, I guess it hasn’t sunk in yet that two out of two is always a majority.
“What do you think it’s seen?” I ask.
“El Vidente?”
“Yes.”
“Everything.”
I sigh. “Lucky.”
“Life wouldn’t be much of a surprise if you were El Vidente, love. What fun would that be? Anyhow, seeing is only one part of the equation. What really matters is that after you see, you let your eyes give way to your heart.”
“Feelings shmeelings.”
Liddy stops me on the corner. She puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “You’re not a machine. Don’t even think about pulling that I’m-tough-as-nails routine with me anymore, got it? We’re here now, clean slate and everything.”
I salute her. “Yes, sir.”
Liddy swats me over the head gently.
“The thing is, Lid, I could do without surprises for a while, you know?”
She nods. “I do, love. Indubitably.”
I snort and sigh hard for effect, shaking my head as I step out into the crosswalk. Why are the simplest things so hard to talk about?
“Ruby!” Liddy grabs my arm, pulling me back just as a dirty, black pickup speeds past. “Pay attention!”
The driver hits his brakes, squealing to a stop in the middle of the street. I meet his eyes, sucking in my breath as I shake free from Liddy’s grip.
Of course. Ezra.
Four
Over Again
Waiting on Pecos High’s front quad for Racine, my outsider flag is about as obvious as the United States flag whipping in the wind beside me. Kids merge in clumps in front of the main building, forming excited groups of hoodies, backpacks, and skateboards, talking about who did what scandalous thing to whom over the summer. Some of the kids closest to me stare, but they’re polite enough to pretend they aren’t when I catch them looking.
As the quad starts thinning out, someone calls my name, and a small, bubbly girl rushes up to me with a bouncy jog that makes me long for another pot of coffee. A jumble of petite features, shiny black hair, and dark sapphire eyes fringed with even darker lashes, she proclaims, “You must be Ruby! Look at you.” Smiling, she grabs a lock of hair off my shoulder and waves it in the air like a tassel, then pulls me into a hug. “I’m Racine.”
“Hi,” I answer, grateful she found me.
“I love your dress,” she gushes.
I stare down at the grass green wrap dress I’ve awkwardly tied around my body. Liddy bought it for me without asking and then made me promise to wear it. She claims it complements my eyes, that it makes my flax-colored hair look like buckwheat honey, that it makes my waist look tiny and my hips look so curvy they put Botticelli’s Venus to shame. She was full of compliments, most of them baloney.
“Thanks,” I sigh, secretly eyeing Racine’s more flattering black sundress. “I feel like an overripe pear.”
“Oh no,” she assures me. “You look fantastic.”
Racine grabs my hand and pulls me along into the building, talking at high speed about her classes, where to sit during lunch, and whom to avoid like the plague. She keeps on talking, though I barely say a thing. But she’s comfortable to be around, and I know right away I want to be her friend.
“So, meet me for lunch?” she asks when we stop in front of my classroom.
“Sure. In the cafeteria?”
“Near the lunch line.”
After I nod yes, she hugs me again. “Mr. Peterson’s pretty cool.” She waggles a finger toward my classroom, then grabs a brush from her purse and quickly pulls it through her long, straight hair, which she wears tucked beneath a wide red headband. “You’ll love him. Anyway, see you at twelve.” She squeezes my arm and runs off down the hall, waving over the sea of students that swallows her.
Except for a short break, the next fo
ur periods pass like a Tilt-A-Whirl. By the time lunch rolls around, I have a headache of Ulysses-sized proportions. I need aspirin in the worst way and turn my purse inside out, looking for relief. But all I find are a few scattered jellybeans and a half-eaten Twix.
“Ruby,” Racine says after I follow her to the lunch line. “What’s up?”
I rub my fists against my temples and squint. “My head’s killing me.”
Racine digs around in her purse and pulls out a small plastic bottle, handing me two white capsules. “Here. They may make you loopy, but they’ll do the trick.”
I take them from her and shrug quizzically.
“I get migraines.”
I look at the capsules with longing. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”
She shrugs. “Keep them then—just in case.”
“I really appreciate it,” I add. “Just believe me, I’m loopy enough as it is.”
Racine utters a soft, “Oh,” then tells me to hold on. She hops out of line and rushes toward a tall girl near the cafeteria’s entrance. They whisper to each other before Racine walks back, rolling two aspirin in her hand. “Take these,” she orders. “If they don’t help, take the Midral.”
“Racine,” I gush goofily, “I so owe you.”
“You gave me an excuse to ignore Marta this morning. We’re totally even.”
“Marta?”
“You’ll see.”
I pay for my lunch, take my pink tray, and follow Racine outside to a scrubby area of quad alongside a football field that borders the mountains. Racine leads us to a picnic table and sits down beside two other girls already spread out on its benches.
“Ruby,” she says, swooping her arm across the table. “This is Ashley and Marta.”
They all start talking at once. Obviously, Racine warned them I was coming. They ask about Los Angeles and how I like La Luna and Pecos High. Ashley, who looks a little like a greyhound with a sleek black bob, asks if I’ve ever met Brad Pitt. She shivers as she says his name, breaking out in giggles. “He’s a babe.”
Marta frowns. “He’s old.”
“Whatever, he’s still a massive hottie.”
Marta raises a dark eyebrow and looks at me. “What Ashley means is, she totally wants to do him.”
“Like you don’t?” Ashley pouts, then turns and gives me a syrupy smile, showing every one of her large, square teeth. “Marta will do anything.”
“Amen,” Racine agrees. “Speaking of.” She turns to me. “Daisy claims Angel’s got it for you.”
I swallow and bob my head from girl to girl. They all look back expectantly.
“Um, I don’t think so.” I mean it to sound convincing, but I blush.
Marta’s brown eyes sparkle. “Oh, he likes you, Ruby.”
“How do you know?”
“Beside the fact that you’re new meat?” Marta pulls her long chocolate hair into a ponytail and twirls it into a bun, playing with the ends as she speaks. “He’s my second cousin. I hear everything.”
“He’s sweet,” I admit.
Racine gives me the once-over. “Sweet?”
“And handsome.”
“Handsome as sin. And I hear he’s good in bed.” Ashley grins.
“Ashley!” Marta balls up her napkin and chucks it at her. “Barf.”
“I’m just saying.” She shrugs.
The three of them banter relentlessly, lobbing insults at each other like pros, obviously tight-knit friends. When the insults peter out, Racine throws an arm around my shoulders.
“Well?” she prods, turning back to me.
“Well what?”
“You gonna go out with him?”
It’s fair to say I don’t feel like explaining my lack of experience with boys to strangers. On the other hand, at least one of those strangers is trying to get to know me. I’m lucky to have even one new acquaintance to show me around.
I shrug, unsure how to answer. Angel is sweet, handsome, and definitely easy to be around. I just didn’t feel that same oh-my-god factor around him like I did around Leo.
“I just moved here,” I mumble.
Racine polishes an apple on her sundress and takes a bite, talking while she chews. “So what, you just moved here? How long does it take to decide whether you like a guy? It’s not like it’s rocket science or something.”
“I like him. I just don’t know if I like him that way. You know?”
Marta stares at me like I’ve sprouted wings and levitated over the table. Ashley looks thoughtful, and Racine just smiles. “Well,” she says. “No one says you have to marry him.”
“Really?” I ask sarcastically.
“Really,” she deadpans.
“You looking for your soul mate, Ruby?” Marta scoffs.
I choke on my soda. “Good god, no. I just don’t want to waste my time.”
“How is going on a date wasting your time?” Ashley asks. “I mean, if you like him. Just think of him like, well, like man candy.”
“Man candy?” I giggle. “What do I do with that?”
“If I have to tell you,” Ashley smirks, “then maybe you better let me take a stab at him.”
“Be my guest.” I laugh.
“She’s chicken.” Marta speaks to the group, but her tone is unmistakably challenging.
I look her dead in the eyes, trying not to blink despite my pounding head. “No. I just have other things on my mind.”
“Like what?” Racine asks.
“Like unpacking my room. And settling in.”
“You are chicken.” Ashley giggles.
“Oh, snap.” Racine laughs.
“Maybe.” I frown and rub my forehead. “Maybe not. Maybe he’s just not the right guy.”
“Angel’s everybody’s right guy.” Ashley sighs.
“I don’t know. I mean, I met someone I sort of liked this weekend while I was hiking.”
Like. Funny. I haven’t stopped thinking about Leo since Saturday.
“Spill,” Racine demands.
“His name is Leo. Said he went to Pecos High. You guys know him?”
“Leo …” Racine looks up at the sky for a moment. “That’s right, Daisy asked me about him last night. Nope, name doesn’t ring a bell.”
I try to describe Leo as best I can, but he isn’t easy to put into words. Incredibly, spectacularly, beautiful seems like an understatement.
“You’re a dork,” Marta snickers when I’m done.
“He sounds scrumptious,” Ashley says.
“You met him hiking?” Racine asks.
“Yeah. A couple miles from my house. Up the mountain.”
She bunches her mouth into a knot. “In Paso de Demonio?”
“Racine’s superstitious.” Ashley takes a bite of her sandwich, talking through a mouth full of peanut butter. “She believes every little thing people say about ghosts, and aliens, and, like, Bigfoot.”
“Remember last time we were out near Pigeon Ranch?” Racine asks her. “You said yourself, it freaked you out.”
Ashley throws a nut at her, pulling her small, heart-shaped face into a sour scowl. “That’s because you kept talking about all the dead Confederate soldiers’ ghosts walking around.”
“There is kind of a weird vibe up the mountain,” I admit. “But I also kind of like it.”
“You believe in ghosts?” Ashley asks.
“Not really.” If Liddy had her way, the only thing I’d believe in is compounds and beakers. The closest she even comes to considering the mystical is when she makes fun of Schrödinger. “Though I guess I’m open to it.”
Racine looks at me sternly. “Yeah, well, just because you don’t believe doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” She crosses herself. “Just be careful up there, Ruby.”
Marta snorts just as the warning bell rings. Ashley squeezes the life out of me and runs off to the bathroom, but Marta walks away with barely a wave over her shoulder. When they’re gone, Racine tugs on my sleeve. “Way to go, Ruby, you survived.”
“Survived?” I ask, though I have an idea.
“Las Gallinas.”
“The Hens?”
“Yep.”
“They weren’t so bad.”
“Not at all,” Racine agrees wholeheartedly. “But I’ve known them forever, especially Ashley. She’s been my neighbor since, like, kindergarten. It’s not so hard for me to deal with their nosing around.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“You’re a good sport.”
“You’re great to show me around.”
“Any time, mi nueva amiga,” she smiles.
Next period, Racine and I manage to snag seats beside each other in the Media Tech room. Media Tech is one of three classes we share, and I’m grateful; she definitely makes being the new girl easier. Toward the end of class, when she sees me pushing my knuckles into my forehead across the aisle, she taps on my desk with a pencil.
“Hey,” she whispers, “take the Midral.”
Nodding, I dig around in my pocket for the pills, shove them to the back of my throat, and dry swallow. But on the way to sixth period, I warn her to keep an eye on me. “Just in case I fall asleep on the desk or, like, drool.” I shudder.
My head feels a little like someone filled it with helium, but I manage to make it through AP Ancient Civilizations with barely a dribble. I even sort of enjoy it, despite the pounding. Except for sewing back in tenth grade, which I took on a lark, I’ve liked almost every subject I’ve ever had in high school.
When the bell rings, Racine walks me out to the front quad, where we meet up with Ashley and Marta.
“You taking the bus home, Ruby?” Marta asks.
“Most of the time. Yeah. But I think I’ll walk today.”
Ashley’s eyes pop. “Didn’t you say you live above La Luna?”
“I do. But I like walking.” Racine’s medicine has definitely started to affect me; the wind feels like icy pinpricks against my skin, but my muscles are warm and happy.
“Racine drives.” Marta scowls. “But the bitch lives like fifteen miles that way,” she points north, “and won’t take us home.”
“That’s not true,” Racine snaps. “I just won’t drive you home. Besides, I work today.”
“If I had a car, I’d drive you home, Marta,” I lie.
Between Wild and Ruin Page 4