Ruby Reinvented Page 7

  “I’m so glad things are going well, hon,” Mom says.

  Just as I’m about to tell them that I have to get ready for bed, the door to our room swings open. Before I can think to cover the iPad, I turn around to find Cassandra standing in our doorway—staring right at me. A million scenarios shoot through my mind in three seconds flat. I could turn the iPad off, but my parents would freak out. I could turn the screen around, but that would look suspicious. Instead I press the mute button and place the iPad on my lap, silently praying that she can’t see the screen from where she’s standing. My parents will probably wonder why they’re staring at the ceiling, and why I’m not answering them, but right now this is my best possible option.

  Cassandra’s eyes move past me. She’s trying to look at the screen, which I’m covering with my arms.

  “Whatcha doing?” Cassandra asks. She’s still standing in the doorway.

  “Homework.”

  “Where’s Summer?” Cassandra looks around the room.

  “She’s in the shower.”

  Cassandra squints. “Do you remember what the Spanish homework was?”

  “We didn’t have any.”

  “You sure?” Her eyes shoot to my lap, so I lean over the screen even more.

  “Positive.”

  “Do you know if Summer talked to Connor about me?”

  The back of my neck feels sticky with sweat. I need to get back to my parents. They’ve got to be wondering what the heck is going on. Besides, Summer will be out of the shower any minute now, and I have to say good night to my parents before that.

  “I don’t know. Want to swing by the bathroom and ask her?”

  “I’ll just talk to her tomorrow.” Cassandra tries to look at my iPad screen again and smirks. “Have fun with your homework.” She turns on her heels and shuts the door behind her.

  I exhale and unmute my parents. “Sorry.” I give them a totally fake smile.

  “What was that about?” Mom asks.

  “Oh, just some girl wanting to know about homework. She’s kind of annoying, so . . .”

  “We were wondering what was going on over there. It didn’t seem like you could hear us,” Dad says.

  “I couldn’t,” I say. “That girl—she’s really loud.”

  “As long as everything’s okay,” Mom says, looking worried.

  “Oh yeah, it’s great. There is one thing, though.” I bite the inside of my cheek.

  “Sure, Bea,” Dad says.

  “It’s not always easy to get on FaceTime,” I say. “I’d hate to disturb my roommate, and sometimes the Internet’s slow here at night. . . .”

  I know my parents are thousands of miles away, but I swear it feels like they can smell my lies.

  “Any chance we can text at night—instead of FaceTime?”

  Now Mom and Dad are having a psychic conversation. It always amazes me that they can do this through the computer just as well as they can do it in person.

  “I think it’s hard enough that we’re not going to see you in person every month, Bea,” Dad finally says. “We’d hate to give up seeing you through FaceTime.”

  “And that was part of our deal,” Mom reminds me. “You could go to boarding school as long as you keep up with your grades—-and we talk every night.”

  “I know,” I say. “And it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that—my roommate texts her parents every night. And so do most kids here.”

  The psychic conversation resumes. I just sit back and wait for it to end. It’s twelve minutes after eight so I hope it ends quickly.

  “Let’s stick with FaceTime for now, hon,” Mom says.

  “Yeah, Bea, we’d miss your face too much if we didn’t.” Dad smiles. It’s hard to be mad at Dad when he smiles. I can see why all those crazy women always throw flowers onto the field whenever he’s up at bat.

  I hear Summer’s voice in the hallway again, and I’m grateful that she stops to chat with everyone hanging out in the hall. I have about one minute to sign off, but I try not to make it too obvious that I want this call to end.

  “Okay.” I nod. “FaceTime it is. I’d better wrap it up here. It’s lights out at nine and I’m nowhere near ready for bed. I love you guys.”

  “We love you too,” Mom says. Dad makes kissy noises. I can still hear Summer in the hallway.

  I turn the iPad off and put my head in my hands. That thing with Cassandra was too close. I’m pretty sure she didn’t see anything, but what if she did? Or what if she does next time? Everyone’s heard by now that my parents are supposedly dead.

  All of a sudden I’m exhausted. I’ve got to find a way to convince my parents to let me text instead of FaceTime. Thank goodness they didn’t say anything about Parents’ Weekend. Maybe they didn’t get the e-mail because I just registered. Maybe I’m not even on the e-mail distribution list yet.

  When Summer comes back, I tell her that Cassandra stopped by.

  “What did she want?”

  “She asked if there was Spanish homework. And then she asked if you spoke to Connor about her.”

  Summer rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. I wonder if she did ask Connor about Cassandra, but if I ask her, she’ll wonder why I’m wondering.

  “So yeah, she said she’d talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Can’t wait,” Summer mumbles.

  I purse my lips together to stop myself from asking Summer a zillion questions about Connor and Cassandra. I just got to Midcoast—I shouldn’t be this curious about anybody yet. But then, Connor isn’t just anybody. He’s probably the nicest boy I’ve ever met.

  Yank.

  There’s that tug on my stomach again, reminding me that the nicest boy I’ve ever met doesn’t deserve to be lied to.

  Chapter

  13

  CASSANDRA AND KATIE are already at breakfast by the time Summer and I come in. Cassandra calls us over even before we get in the cafeteria line. Summer waves to her as if she didn’t hear a word she said, then she picks up a tray and hands it to me.

  “Sheesh. She can wait until we eat at least,” Summer says under her breath.

  We get our scrambled eggs and potatoes and sit down with Cassandra and Katie.

  “Did you talk to Connor at dinner last night?” Cassandra’s blotting her lip gloss on a napkin.

  “No, my parents were there the whole time.”

  “So?” Cassandra crosses her arms across her chest.

  “My parents don’t want to hear that stuff.” Summer eats a forkful of potatoes.

  “Can you talk to him today?”

  “I dunno. Maybe,” Summer says. “If there’s a good time.”

  “I want him to ask me to the Spring Fling.” Cassandra leans back in her chair.

  “There’s still almost a month and a half till the Spring Fling,” Summer says. “That’s plenty of time.”

  “What if he asks somebody else,” Cassandra says.

  Summer laughs. “Who’s he going to ask?”

  “You never know.” Cassandra glances my way for a split second, and my cheeks feel super hot.

  “I promise you,” Summer says. “Connor isn’t even thinking about the Spring Fling.”

  “How do you know?” Cassandra asks.

  “I know him. Right now he’s probably thinking about the Sox.”

  “He’s thinking about his socks?” Cassandra twists her hair around her finger.

  “Do you actually know anything about Connor?” Summer tears the crust off her toast.

  “I know he’s hot,” Cassandra says. Katie giggles.

  “He’s a huge Red Sox fan and baseball season is starting,” Summer says. “That’s the most important thing on his mind right now.”

  “Baseball is so boring,” Cassandra says.

  “I love baseball,” I say. The words slip out before I can stop them. My dad’s been captain of the Dodgers for over a decade. I was practically born in their dugout.

  “Baseball’s pretty fun,” Summer says, an
d then turns to Cassandra. “Maybe you should get to know him a little better before deciding you want to go to the Spring Fling with him.”

  “I know all I need to know.” Cassandra stands up, and Katie follows. “Just talk to him, okay?”

  Summer sighs.

  Cassandra smiles, her perfect teeth practically blinding me. “Thanks, babe. TTYL,” she says, and glides out of the cafeteria.

  Just as we’re about to clear off our trays, Connor walks in. He sits down next to Summer.

  “Hey,” he says. He looks at me first, for like a second, and then at Summer.

  “Okay, so I have to ask you something.” Summer turns toward him.

  “What?” Connor takes a sip of orange juice.

  “Cassandra wants you to ask her to the Spring Fling. Will you?”

  Connor’s face looks like he just swallowed a lemon. Either his orange juice has gone bad, or he doesn’t want to ask Cassandra out. I’m hoping and praying the orange juice is fine.

  “Seriously?” he says.

  Summer raises her eyebrows.

  “I don’t like her,” he says.

  I bite my lip to stop the gigantic smile creeping across my face.

  “Yeah, I figured, but I told her I’d ask so I’m asking.”

  “She wears way too much makeup.” Connor takes a bite of an egg sandwich. My hand instinctively goes to my lips. I’m relieved when I realize I forgot to put on lip gloss this morning. I decide right then and there that I will never, ever use lip gloss again. At least not until I’m in seventh grade.

  “Plus,” Connor says, “we have nothing in common.”

  “I tried to tell her that,” Summer says. “But she thinks you’re hot.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Anyway, Holly says sixth graders can’t be hot. She says they can be cute, but not hot.”

  “I must be very, very cute, then.” Connor is cracking up. I can’t help but giggle.

  “So what should I tell her?” Summer asks.

  “I don’t know,” Connor says. “Tell her I don’t dance.”

  “I don’t know why she’s making such a big deal of this. It’s not that—”

  “Summer!” Holly’s running over to our table. “I need my notebook.”

  “What notebook?” Summer asks.

  “The blue one you borrowed yesterday? You forgot to give it back to me.”

  “Oh, right!” Summer exclaims. “I left it in my room.”

  “Well, let’s go get it. Class starts in ten minutes.”

  “See you guys in class.” Summer stands up and pushes in her chair. Holly smiles and waves at us, but I can tell she’s in a hurry.

  Connor and I are sitting alone at the table. Connor and I. Alone.

  My cheeks feel like they’re so pink I want to pour my glass of water over my head, but since that isn’t really an option, I take a sip. “So the Spring Fling’s a dance?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Connor says. “Sorry, I forgot you don’t know what we were talking about. It’s the big dance party the night before Parents’ Weekend.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “It should be.”

  We both nod.

  Connor puts jam on his toast. I try to look busy drinking my water.

  “The rest of Parents’ Weekend is pretty cool, but—well, you know. It can be hard to see everyone having fun with their parents,” Connor says between bites of toast.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure.” Yank.

  “Is your grandma going to come?”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure. How about your uncle?”

  “He might show up. But if he doesn’t, Summer’s parents are awesome. They’ll treat us like family.”

  “They seem really nice.” I’m tearing my napkin to shreds.

  “So you really don’t remember them, huh?” Connor asks. And I realize he’s not talking about Summer’s parents. He’s talking about mine.

  I can’t answer this question. Of course I remember my parents. Especially since I just saw them, but I can’t tell Connor that. And I can’t lie either. So I just shrug.

  “I’m not sure if I do,” Connor says.

  “What do you mean?” I put the pieces of my napkin on my tray.

  “Well, I think I remember them. But I’m not sure if it’s them I remember, or if it’s pictures of them, or if I’m just making up memories.”

  “Yeah,” I say. I kinda know what he means because I feel that way about my grandma, who died when I was little. I’ve heard so many stories about her from Mom that I don’t know what I remember about her, or what I know from the stories.

  “Is your birthday in July?” Connor asks.

  “What?” I’m thankful for the change of subject even if it does seem a little abrupt.

  Connor looks at my neck, and I realize I’m fingering my necklace—the one with the ruby that my parents gave me for my birthday.

  “Oh, no.” I fold my hands in my lap. “My parents got me this—for my birthday. It’s in March.”

  “It’s nice,” Connor says. “I only asked because my mom’s birthday was in July. Her birthstone was a ruby and she always wore a ring with a ruby in it.”

  “Oh wow. It’s amazing that you remember that.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird the things you remember. You know?”

  I nod.

  “So why a ruby?”

  My heart is beating so loudly I’m positive he can hear it. I’m afraid to say anything about my parents, because one slip will ruin it all. I take a deep breath, and speak slowly.

  “My real name is Ruby, but my nickname is Bea.”

  “Oh, that’s cool.” Connor pushes the hair out of his eyes. I actually manage to look at him long enough to notice that his eyes are gray. But not a dull gray. More like a silver gray. Like the color of the chain on my necklace.

  “It’s nice that you have that to remember them by.” He points at my necklace.

  “Do you have anything—I mean—to remember your parents by?” I stammer.

  Connor shakes his head. “Not really. My parents both came from small families. After they died, I moved in with my uncle, my dad’s younger brother, who was just out of college. Honestly, he wasn’t really ready to take care of me. When he cleaned out our old house, he only kept my stuff. And pictures. So, at least I have pictures.” His eyes look at me as he talks, but I can tell that he’s seeing something completely different in his mind.

  “It’s good you have pictures,” I say, and take another sip of water.

  “Yeah, I’ll show them to you one of these days. Do you have pictures of your folks?”

  I almost choke on my water. “Oh, uhhh, a few. At home. At my nana’s place.” There is no way that I could ever show Connor—or anyone—pictures of my parents.

  “I really want something else to remember them by. Something bigger. That’s why I’m building the observation deck. I’m going to use the money they left me when they died, and then name it after them.”

  Before I can tell him how amazing that is, Connor looks at his watch and picks up his tray. “Whoa. I can’t believe how late it is. We should get to class.”

  I’m finally able to relax after that conversation. I look around the cafeteria and notice that everyone else has already left. I pick my tray up and follow Connor over to the compost area.

  “Hey, thanks for listening.” Connor adds his tray to the stack of trays already there. “It’s nice to be able to talk to somebody who understands, you know?”

  I can’t say anything, so as usual, I just smile and nod. Connor must think I’m a total dork who doesn’t know how to speak. On the bright side, I guess being a total dork is better than being a total liar.

  Connor and I don’t speak much after breakfast, and I almost forget about the fact that I’m a lying dork by the time Summer and I get back to our dorm room after classes end. I open our door to find a stack of boxes next to my bed.

  “Looks like your stuff came.” Summer eyeballs the boxes.

  A big smil
e spreads across my face. As much as I love it here at Midcoast, I do miss my stuff. I wonder what Ellie packed for me, and I grab a pair of scissors from my desk drawer to unpack the boxes. I’m just about to start on the biggest box when it hits me.

  I wonder what Ellie packed for me.

  What if she packed a bunch of photos from home? What if I open this box, right now, right in front of Summer, and there’s a huge picture of my parents and me? I put the scissors down on my desk and pull a book out of my backpack instead.

  “Aren’t you going to open them?” Summer looks more excited to see my stuff than I am.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s just that I want to get this English assignment done first. All of a sudden I had a great idea about what to write and I don’t want to forget.”

  Summer shrugs and looks a bit disappointed. “Okay.”

  Just as I sit down at my desk, there’s a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Summer says.

  The door opens, and Ms. Goldberg peeks her head in. “Oh good, you got your stuff. I just wanted to make sure they brought it up.”

  “Yes, thank you,” I say.

  “Do you need any help unpacking? There are quite a few boxes here.”

  “Oh, no thanks. I’ll probably do it later. It shouldn’t take me long.”

  “Okay, but feel free to come get me if you need help.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll help her.” Summer shoots Ms. Goldberg a great big smile.

  “I’m sure you will.” Ms. Goldberg laughs. “I’m surprised you haven’t dug into those boxes already.”

  “Bea wants to get her homework done first. So I will too.” Summer reaches into her desk drawer and pulls out a pencil with a pink ball of fuzz on top.

  “Nice! Looks like Bea will be a good influence on you,” Ms. Goldberg says. “How’s the math coming?”

  Summer groans. “It isn’t. It makes no sense.”

  “Do you need any help?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t opened the book yet.”

  Ms. Goldberg raises her eyebrows. Summer reaches into her backpack and pulls out a math book. She flashes Ms. Goldberg a smile.