Ruby Reinvented (17 page)

“This is so nice,” I say.

“Yeah.” Connor picks his paddle out of the water and I do the same, so we gently drift along in the water. “This is my favorite place on earth.”

“I can see why.”

“Someday I'll build a house on the bay,” Connor says. “I'll be an astronomer, and I'll paddle out every night when the sun sets and watch the stars. Oh, and I'll have a dog like Topaz.”

Although Connor can't see me, I smile a big dippy smile. It's nice hearing him talk about his dreams. I wish that we weren't on a boat so I could turn around and hug him. Most of all, I wish I weren't so dorky around boys.

“I think that's a good plan” is what I say instead. “And I'll be a fashion designer. I'll make clothes for kids like Summer who aren't afraid to be unique.”

“Summer can be your head salesperson,” Connor says.

“That's a great idea!” The boat swishes back and forth. “We can base our business in town and sell to all the kids at Midcoast.”

“So you'd like to stay here in Maine?” Connor asks.

I shrug. “I've never thought about that.”

“Do you miss California?”

“No,” I say, without missing a beat. “Not at all, actually. Except Ellie—I mean, my nana. I miss her.”

“Maybe she could move here,” Connor says.

I laugh. “She hates the cold.”

“Hey,” Connor says. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

I turn my head to look at him. “Sure.”

Connor looks down at the paddle on his lap. “Would you— Will you go to the Spring Fling with me?”

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I
DROP MY paddle. It makes a
Sploosh
sound as it lands in the water.

“Omigod!”
I reach for it, but as I do so, the boat wobbles like crazy.

“It's okay,” Connor says. “Just stay still. If you lean over like that the boat will tip.”

Who cares about the boat tipping? Connor just asked me to the Spring Fling! I suddenly feel like I just chugged a gallon of coffee.

Connor steers us over to the floating paddle. He carefully slides it over to the kayak with his paddle, and then lifts it out of the water.

“Here you go.” He slides the paddle over to me, and I grab it, droplets of water falling onto my lap.

“I am so sorry. It's just that—you surprised me.”

“Surprised good or surprised bad?”

“Surprised good.” I am so so so glad he can't see my face right now. I'm sure the back of my hair looks horrible given that there are droplets of water all over it, but it's got to be less embarrassing than my bright red cheeks.

“Does that mean you'll go with me?”

“Uhhhh. Yes.” I keep a death grip on the paddle.

Neither of us say another word, and my heartbeat is almost normal by the time we paddle back to Summer's house. Eric has lemonade waiting, and the three of us drink it on the patio. Connor and Eric unroll the sketch.

“What do you think about these benches?” Connor's looking at me instead of Eric.

“Me?” I look behind me to be sure nobody else is there.

“Yeah. You're good with design.”

I lean forward and find the spot he's pointing at. “They're nice, but I think they should be curved a little. They'd look more natural that way, especially since they're outside.”

“You know, you're right,” Eric says. “If we look at the design of the dome, and the tree line, everything is rounded a bit. Good call, Bea.”

I instantly sit up straighter. I'm so busy talking with Connor and Eric about the sketch that I don't hear the car pull up. Summer skips into the backyard holding a small plastic bag with a picture of a big tooth.

“What's going on?” she says when she sees us huddled around the patio table. “Don't tell me they've got you sucked into this too, Bea?”

“Are you kidding?” Connor smiles. “Bea's given us some great ideas. She knows a lot about design stuff.”

“Duh.” Summer rolls her eyes. “I've been saying that for days now.”

I wonder if Summer knows that Connor asked me to the Spring Fling. I try to tell her with my eyes while motioning my head toward Connor, but she's just squinting at me, and I realize I must look like a demented owl.

“I'm hungry.” Summer opens the door that leads into the house. “Anyone want some grapes?”

“I do!” I say, way too enthusiastically. “I'll come with you.”

I follow Summer into the kitchen. “You're not going to believe what happened!”

“Connor asked you to the Spring Fling?” Summer opens the refrigerator door and pulls out a bowl of grapes.

“How did you know?” I gasp.

“He told me he was going to.” Summer bites a grape in half.

“He told you?” I put my hands on my hips. “And you didn't tell me?”

“He asked me not to. I figured you'd find out soon enough anyway.” Summer giggles.

“Eeeeek,” I squeak. “What will I wear?”

“Ohhhh, you can design a special dress—a Spring Fling dress! I have some amazing ideas.”

“You do? Let's get started sketching it!”

I grab the sketchpad off the kitchen table, and we run up to Summer's room. We put the sketchpad in the middle of the floor and start spewing ideas at each other.

“It should have flowers at the hem,” Summer says.

“Definitely sleeveless,” I say.

More than anything, I want to win the Spotlight Project. Nobody's ever believed in my designs like Summer does, and I want to prove to her that she's right. I want to prove it to myself, too.

For the first time in my life, I think maybe, just maybe, I have a sprinkle of talent somewhere inside of me. And this will be the first chance I've ever had to let it out.

 21 

I
GO TO the main office on Monday at three o'clock, the time of my interview. Mrs. Kearney brings me to a room that I've never been to before. It's got a long table with twelve cushy chairs around it. There are six people in the chairs, and they all look up when I walk in.

“You must be Bea.” The lady sitting nearest to the door stands up and shakes my hand. “I'm Mrs. Banks.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say. I can't quite meet her eyes, so I stare at her starfish necklace.

“Please, sit down.” Mrs. Banks motions me to sit in one of the cushy chairs. All of the other adults have folders and notepads opened in front of them, and all eyes are on me.

I scoot back in the chair, to be sure I'm sitting up straight, but the chair swivels and I let out a little squeal. Mrs. Banks
smiles at me. Either she didn't hear me, or she's pretending she didn't.

“So, Bea.” Mrs. Banks flips through my application. “You like to design dresses?”

“Yes.” I nod and gently push my portfolio toward her. “Here are some of my sketches, if you'd like to see them.”

“Oh, thank you.” Mrs. Banks puts her glasses on and flips through the pages.

“Oh my.” Mrs. Banks raises her eyebrows, and I sink into my chair.

She hates them. Of course she hates them. I am lame, just like Sophie said. Lame and talentless. I look at where I'm sitting. I look at the door, wondering if I can slink out of here without anyone noticing.

Then I remember what Summer thinks. And what Connor said. And I glance across the table to see what Mrs. Banks is looking at. My stuff is good. I'm not talentless. Sophie was wrong and mean and awful. I sit up a little straighter, folding my hands in my lap.

After looking at most of the pages, Mrs. Banks passes the book to the woman on her right. She whispers something, but I can't hear what it is. My heart starts racing.

“Bea.” Mrs. Banks takes off her glasses. “Have you had any formal training?”

“Formal training?” My voice sounds like it's coming from somewhere outside my body.

“Yes. Have you ever taken any design classes?”

“No.” The back of my neck feels sweaty.

The woman to the right of Mrs. Banks slides the book to the man on her right. She doesn't say anything at all.

“I see,” says Mrs. Banks. “May I see your sample?”

“My what?” At this point her words are muffled sounds without meaning.

“I assume that's one of your dresses that you're holding?” Her eyes shoot to my lap.

“Oh.” I hold up the dress. I completely forgot I even had it. “Yes, this is a sample.” It's a sky-blue sleeveless back-zip A-line with a gathered empire waist. I've actually never worn it, but I've always thought it was pretty.

“Is it okay if we take a look?” Mrs. Banks nods, prodding me to hand the dress over.

“Oh, sure.” I hand her the dress, but she doesn't smile, or say thank you, or anything. She just looks at the dress from every angle possible. She even turns it inside out.

“Who taught you how to sew?”

“My nanny. Nana. Grandmother.” I stutter over the words.

Mrs. Banks just nods. “Do you mind if we hold on to this? Until we make a decision? Then we'll give everything back to you.”

“Sure, that would be fine.” I try to smile, but my cheeks are frozen with nerves.

“Thank you for coming today, Bea.” I think Mrs. Banks smiles, but she might just have a twitch.

“Oh, okay.” I look at the door. “So is that it?”

“Yes, dear. You can go now.” Mrs. Banks slides out of her chair and walks me to the door. “Thanks again. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Thank you.” She has her hand on my back, but that may be because she's trying to push me out of the room.

The door closes behind me, and I slide down the hallway wall into a heap on the floor.

I don't know how I let Summer talk me into this. Sure, I love my designs. And so do some of my other friends, but what if Mrs. Banks hates them?

I pull myself up off the floor and drag myself back to my dorm. Summer's not going to be happy about this.

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