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Ruby Reinvented Page 14


  “I like you, too.” I look down at the green surface beneath my feet. Connor’s looking at me, and as he does so his face is moving closer to mine. Is he going to kiss me? I think he’s going to kiss me. Of course I can’t be sure, because I’ve never been kissed before, but his face is getting awfully close to mine. I close my eyes, because that’s what people do in the movies, and because I don’t know what else to do.

  Just as I think Connor might kiss me, a piercing scream comes from the path between the gym and the tennis court.

  A group of people are walking fast toward us. At first I can’t tell who they are because it’s all a big blur, but then they stop and look right at us.

  That’s when I see the cameras.

  And the flashes.

  That many cameras in one place?

  That can only mean one thing.

  The paparazzi found me.

  Chapter

  28

  I GRAB CONNOR’S hand and run to the back gate of the courts. There’s lots of yelling and Connor’s asking me what’s going on, but my voice is frozen and I can’t answer him. How did the paparazzi find me here?

  I know there are woods on the other side of the courts, just past the gate, because one time during gym class I hit my ball way over the fence and had to go get it. I’m hoping we can get in there and hide before they find us.

  Thankfully, it’s dark outside, and the farther into the woods and away from the tennis courts we go, the darker it gets. My dress gets caught on some thorns, but I can’t worry about that now. I can still hear voices, but they don’t sound as close. Just to be safe, I keep going and realize I’m still holding Connor’s hand.

  “Bea, where are we going? Who are those people?” Connor asks when I finally stop running. I look toward the tennis courts but can’t see anything except trees. I’m pretty sure we lost them.

  “There’s something I have to tell you—about me.” I put my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath.

  “Okay . . . ,” Connor starts to say. He’s smiling. I wish he wouldn’t do that.

  “It’s bad.”

  “You’re a fugitive?”

  I give him a weak smile. “No.”

  “A foreign spy?” Connor guesses.

  I shake my head.

  “I know. You’re a dude!”

  This time I actually laugh a little.

  “So if it’s not any of those things, what could be so bad?”

  I take a deep breath. “My parents aren’t—dead.”

  Even though it’s dark in the woods, I can see that Connor’s smile is instantly erased from his face. There are tiny lines on his cheeks where his dimples were a second ago.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean . . .” I stand up straight and start pacing. “I didn’t exactly tell the truth about my parents.”

  “You’re parents aren’t dead?” Connor’s whole body looks limp.

  I bow my head. “No. They are alive and well. I never meant to lie. It just came out that way when I first met Summer and—”

  “They didn’t die in a car accident?”

  My throat feels like it’s closing up, and I tug at my necklace. “No. I’m so sorry—”

  “They didn’t die at all?” Connor’s eyes have gone from sparkly silver to storm gray. He slumps against a tree so that every part of his body is facing downward. Except his eyes. His eyes are staring right at me.

  “Please, let me explain.” I stop pacing and look at him. He doesn’t say anything, so I go on. I’m blurting it all out at once, quite possibly rivaling Timmy’s mile-a-minute mouth. “My parents—they’re Zack Miller and Celestine Cruz—and at my old school my friends only pretended to be my friends so they could meet them and of course I was devastated when I found out and I was afraid it would happen again so I told Summer I didn’t have parents and somehow I said they were dead and then she told me your parents died and I felt terrible but by then it was too late to take it back so I just went on pretending—”

  Connor stood up, his body now stiff as a board. “You pretended your parents were dead so we’d like you?”

  “No. No, it’s not like that. I pretended my parents were dead so nobody would find out who my parents really were—”

  “That is sick.” Connor says. “I can’t believe you’d do that.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” I squeak.

  “I can’t believe the things I told you.” Connor runs his hands through his hair. “Thoughts about my parents that I never told anybody. I thought you understood.”

  “I did understand,” I say. “I do.”

  He’s looking at me with an ice-cold stare, but I stumble on. “Even though my parents aren’t dead, I do understand your feelings. My parents are alive, but they’re away a lot and not around much like real parents—”

  “Are you comparing your parents who are away a lot to my parents who are dead  ?”

  “No, I just—” My voice comes out as a whisper.

  “Do I even know who you are?” Connor shakes his head slowly.

  “I’m still me. Nothing changed—”

  “Everything changed.” Connor stares at me for a second, his jaw clenched. Then, before I can say anything else, he turns and runs back toward the tennis court.

  And I’m left standing in the woods, with a two-inch rip in my dream dress, alone.

  I know I can’t stay here long, but I can’t bear the thought of facing anyone, so I slide down a tree and sit, picking pine needles off the ground. I don’t know how long I’m there for, but we have a curfew, and if I’m not back on time, the whole school will come looking for me. That is, if they aren’t already.

  I drag myself back toward the tennis courts, which thankfully are empty. The gym lights are still on, and I can see some kids cleaning up. Instead of taking the usual sidewalk to my dorm, I lurk behind the buildings like a criminal. A criminal in a ripped linen dress.

  Summer’s pacing when I open the door to our room.

  “Omigod, Bea, where have you been?”

  I take my beat-up shoes off and fling them in the closet. Then I slump into my desk chair, and that’s when the tears come. Buckets of them.

  “The paparazzi found me. Well, they almost found me anyway.”

  “What? How?”

  “Who knows?” I throw my hands in the air. “We were on the tennis courts, and I really thought Connor was going to kiss me, and then these people were coming toward us with cameras so Connor and I ran into the woods to hide and that’s when I told him the truth.”

  “Oh, Bea.” Summer looks down at the floor.

  “I know. He hates me.” I tug at the rip in my dress.

  “I’m so sorry.” Summer bites the inside of her cheek. “But I don’t think those people were paparazzi.”

  I jerk my head up. “What?”

  Summer puts her hand on my shoulder. “The local press came to take pictures of the dance and the decorations outside. They were doing a story on Midcoast. Holly told me about it when the photographers came through the dance taking pictures.”

  “So they weren’t there for me?” I look up at her, feeling slightly sick.

  She shakes her head.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t believe I told Connor the truth when I didn’t even have to. I’m just so used to the paparazzi coming after me. I throw my hands over my eyes. How could I be so stupid?

  “Maybe Connor will change his mind. Maybe he just needs some time.” Summer kneels down next to my chair so we’re face-to-face.

  “Maybe.”

  But I saw the look in his eyes when I told him the truth. And I’m pretty sure he’ll never forgive me.

  Chapter

  29

  BEA.” I OPEN one eye. Summer’s standing over my bed. “Time to get up.”

  “Why?” I pull the blankets over my head.

  “Because we have to be in the cafeteria in less than an hour for brunch.”

  I groan. “My stomach hurts.”
/>   “Come on.” Summer pulls the blankets down. “You only have one more day to get ready. Tomorrow’s the fashion show.”

  “Don’t remind me.” I pull the blankets back up.

  “Bea.” Summer sits down on my bed, and I scooch over to make room. “I know this is tough for you, but your dresses are awesome. They need to be seen.”

  I snort. Easy for her to say. She didn’t just betray the nicest boy in the world.

  “You can’t hide in here forever.” Summer pulls the covers off me.

  “Yes I can.” I pull the covers back up again.

  “Okay.” Summer picks my phone off my desk. “This calls for drastic measures.” She presses a button and throws the phone in my face.

  Before I know what’s happening, I see Ellie looking at me in FaceTime.

  “Bea?” She’s squinting into the phone. “Bea, what is the matter?”

  “Nothing, Ellie.” I sit up in bed. “It’s just—my stomach hurts.”

  “Did you eat something bad?”

  “No.”

  “Then what, Bea?”

  I sigh and blurt it all out. I tell Ellie about the lie, about how Connor hates me, about the fashion show, and how I couldn’t invite my parents because then nobody would care about my dresses if they were there.

  “Bea, why do you care?”

  I blink.

  “You made a mistake, lying to that nice boy. That happens. But you fixed it.”

  “It was a big mistake, Ellie. A big, gigantuan mistake.”

  “Yes, yes. It was. But Summer is still your friend, no?”

  “Yes.” I smile.

  “And Connor . . .” She purses her lips. “His feelings are hurt. Nobody likes to be lied to.”

  I pull the covers over my head again, but then realize Ellie can’t see me when I do that.

  “So that one, you pay for,” she continues. “But tell me, Bea, why do you want to do the fashion show?”

  “Because I love making dresses. And Summer and Katie think they’re good—”

  “Do you think they’re good dresses, Bea?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “This reminds me of your old friends, the mean ones.”

  “How?” I don’t see how the fashion show has anything to do with Sophie and Damon.

  “You care too much about what everybody else thinks, instead of what you think.”

  “Huh?”

  “Those mean kids say things about you, so you run away. Okay, fine. Now something happened here, and you hide in bed. This is your one and only life, Bea. You must live it how you want.”

  “But I want to have friends—”

  “And you do. Your true friends will stand by you. Like Summer. Your other friends, not true friends. Better you know.”

  “But what if everyone hates my dresses? What if they laugh at me?”

  “Do you hate your dresses?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then who cares who hates your dresses? You do the fashion show for you. For no one else. You understand me, Bea?”

  “Sort of.”

  Ellie sighs. “Just be yourself, Bea. Yourself, who has famous parents. Yourself, who loves to make dresses. Yourself, whose favorite color is orange. You are my beautiful, talented, one-of-a-kind Bea.”

  I can’t help but smile. Summer’s still standing at the foot of my bed, hands on her hips. She nods at everything Ellie says.

  “Thank you, Ellie.” I feel tears prick my eyes, but I don’t want Ellie to see.

  “Now, you go eat something so you will have energy for the fashion show.”

  “Thanks, Ellie, I will. I’m feeling a little better now.”

  “I am very proud of you, bubela.” Ellie smiles, and FaceTime disconnects.

  Summer jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “I knew a call to your nana would be just what you needed.”

  “You know she’s not really my nana, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I figured. But I could tell that you really love her, so . . .”

  I hear a loud grumbling sound, and I look around to see where it came from until I realize it came from my stomach.

  “Was that you?” Summer laughs.

  “I guess I am pretty hungry.” I push the blankets off and drag myself out of bed.

  “It’s blueberry pancake day,” Summer says. “And you know how much we love blueberry pancakes.”

  My mouth actually waters at the thought of blueberry pancakes, so I throw on a pair of leggings and a long T-shirt. I look in the mirror for the first time since I got ready for the dance, and I actually scream.

  “I’m a mess,” I say out loud. I throw my hair in a ponytail and pull my lip gloss out of my makeup bag. I stare at the tube, thinking about Ellie’s words, and I wonder if she’s right. Do I care so much about what other people think of me that I don’t even know what I want anymore? I used to love lip gloss, but maybe that was because Sophie loved it. Then, when I found out Connor didn’t like lip gloss, I stopped wearing it. I’m staring at the lip gloss like it’s the key to all my life’s secrets. Do I like lip gloss—or not?

  Summer taps me on the shoulder. “There won’t be any pancakes left if we don’t get going.”

  I decide the lip gloss debate can wait. Pancakes are much more important right now.

  Whiffs of blueberries and maple syrup hit me as we open the door to the cafeteria. And so does Connor.

  I literally walk right into him.

  Chapter

  30

  HE GLARES AT me for a second, and then storms right past me. And right past Summer. Summer shoots me a look and I nod. She runs after him.

  My stomach gurgles, but not because I’m hungry. After seeing Connor, I’m not sure I can even eat. I find a seat at our usual table while I wait for Summer to come back. Nobody looks at me funny. In fact, nobody looks at me at all.

  Katie and Antoinette sit down next to me, steam coming off their tray of pancakes.

  “So.” Katie’s practically bouncing in her seat. “How was the dance? With Connor?”

  I can’t bring myself to look at her, so I stare at the water glass in her hand. “It was good. Lots of fun.”

  “Details?” Katie leans forward so she can hear me better.

  Before I can answer, Summer appears at the table, motioning for me to walk with her to the food line. “Ready to go get some pancakes?”

  “You bet!” I get up so fast that my chair almost falls over.

  “Sorry I took so long,” she whispers once we’re out of earshot of Katie and Antoinette. “It turns out Connor’s got some stuff going on. I mean, more stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?” I stop walking.

  She takes a deep breath. “Remember that money his uncle was supposed to give him for the observation-deck project?”

  “Yeah.” I nod.

  “Well, it turns out there’s not enough.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “There was less in the account than he thought. So now he can’t finish the project.”

  “That’s awful. To promise someone a gift and then not be able to—”

  “That’s just it,” Summer says. “It wasn’t a gift. The money isn’t his uncle’s money.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That money was Connor’s inheritance. His parents left it for him.”

  I put my hand over my mouth. “Wow.”

  I feel like there’s a golf ball in my throat. I didn’t know that he was going to pay for the observation deck with his own money. Money that his parents left him. I think back to the picture of the dedication to his parents. No wonder he wanted to make sure it was included. His parents were the ones who were going to make this happen.

  Holly comes up behind us. “What’s up, little kids?” She puts one arm on Summer’s shoulder, and one arm on mine.

  Summer squiggles away. “Have you talked to Connor today?”

  When Holly says she hasn’t, Summer blurts Connor’s whole story to Holly, who
looks horrified.

  “Have you told Mom and Dad?”

  “No!” Summer lifts her arms in the air, and they come crashing down to her legs. “I just found out.”

  Holly pulls us into a quiet corner of the cafeteria, takes a cell phone out of her pocket, and presses a button. “Mom, put Dad on speaker. You’re not going to believe what happened.” Holly relays the entire story to them. She’s on the phone for at least fifteen minutes, and I hear a lot of uh-huhs and okays. When she finally hangs up, she shakes her head.

  “They said they wish they could fund the project, but they just don’t have the extra cash right now.”

  “I know,” Summer says. “It’s a lot of money. I don’t know anyone with that much extra money just lying around.”

  “I do,” I say.

  There’s a pause as she stares at me. “Oh, Bea, I don’t think that’s a good idea. . . .” Summer begins.

  “Why not? My parents have more money than they know what to do with.”

  “I’m not sure Connor would take it,” Summer says. “He’s still pretty hurt by what happened.”

  “I have to talk to him.” I pace back and forth. “Do you think he’ll talk to me?”

  “I don’t know.” Summer sighs. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  “Well, I have to try. Maybe I can make it up to him. I have to offer him the money.” I give a loud sniffle and nod my head.

  “Okay, if you’re sure it’s a good—”

  “I’m going to find him now.”

  “Want me to come with you?”

  “No, thanks though. This is something I have to do on my own.”

  Chapter

  31

  I FIND CONNOR on the basketball court. Luckily, he’s alone. I don’t think I could deal with Shane and Timmy right now. I stand there while he dribbles and shoots. He glances my way but doesn’t say a word.

  “Hey.” I stand on the edge of the court and kick a blob of dirt off of the asphalt.

  Dribble, dribble, dribble. Shoot.

  “Hey,” I say, a little bit louder this time.

  He takes a shot and misses. After a very loud sigh, he picks the basketball up and holds it under his arm. “What do you want?”