Ruby Reinvented (3 page)

“Looks like we're all set.” Dad rubs his belly. “I can taste the garlic from here.”

Suit Man opens the door for us, and we walk through a very busy kitchen. Pots and pans clang, until the workers look up and see us. The clanging gets quieter. A few stare, but nobody says anything. Suit Man leads us into a small, back room with just a few tables, and motions to one of them. I can hear the hustle and bustle of people talking and plates clanking from the next room, but I can't see anyone else. As promised, we're alone.

A waitress comes in with water and menus.

“I think we know what we'd like,” Dad says to the waitress, who smiles politely but looks at him with googly eyes. Even people who aren't baseball fans recognize Dad, since he's always in lots of magazines, and he's even a spokesperson for a really popular men's cologne that smells like a combination of fresh air and Astroturf. “Bea?”

“I'd like the ravioli, please.”

“And I'll have the caprese salad,” Mom says.

“The cavatelli and broccoli for me.” Dad hands the waitress our menus, then adds, “With extra garlic.”

After we place our order, the subject turns to school, which of course I knew it would. This is my chance. My big moment to tell them what I want for my birthday.

“Actually,” I begin. “School hasn't been great.”

“Oh no, honey.” Mom furrows her eyebrows. “I thought things were going well.”

“They were,” I say. “And then they weren't.”

“What happened?” Her eyebrows are practically touching now.

“My friends just didn't turn out to be who I thought they were.” It took me days to come up with that line, and I practiced it again and again. I don't want to give them too much information, but I want to make my point clear. I think that line says just enough without giving up too much. At least I hope so.

“So that brings me to my birthday present.” I take a deep breath in. My parents are staring at me, and Mom's eyebrows are
still
furrowed.

“I'd like to go away to school.” There. I said it. I exhale.

“What do you mean, away?” Mom asks.

“Like to a boarding school. In Maine.”

“In
Maine
?” Dad asks. Now his eyebrows are furrowed too.

“Yes. It's called Midcoast Academy. And I'd like to go there.”

“How did you hear about this place?” Mom asks.

My palms get sweaty. I knew this question was coming, and I'm prepared. I hold my head up high. “I did some research.”

“Research?” Dad squints his eyes, which is what he does when he's confused.

“Yes.” I hold my head up higher.

“You do know how far Maine is from California?” Mom asks.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why would you want to be so far away, Bea?” Dad rolls up his sleeves, but he keeps looking at me through squinty eyes.

“It's not that I want to be far away,” I say. “It's just that I want to go to this particular school.” Although this isn't the entire truth, it sounds very convincing coming out of my mouth. Probably because I've also practiced this line a hundred times. So far, I've anticipated all of their questions.

“What is it about this school that you like so much?” Mom asks. The waitress comes into the room with dinner salads. We all stop talking while she puts them on the table.

“I want to broaden my horizons,” I say, after the waitress leaves.

“Broaden your horizons?” Mom asks slowly.

“Yes. I've lived in California for my whole entire life. You and Dad are friends with celebrities, so I know a few celebrity kids, but I don't know any normal kids. And I know you think the kids I go to school with are normal kids, but they're not. Normal kids don't get dropped off at school in limos. Normal kids aren't obsessed with being famous.”

“You think your friends at school are like that?” Mom asks.

“I know they are.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

“Well, Bea,” Dad says in between bites of salad. “This is a pretty big decision. I think your mom and I need some more time to think about it.”

“But today's my birthday. It's all I want for a present.”

“I know, hon,” Mom says. “But this isn't a decision we can make in one night. We need to check out the school, learn more. Maybe we can all go visit over the summer and you can start next year—”

“I don't want to start next year.” I blink back tears. “I want to start now.”

“Why all of a sudden?” Mom asks.

“It's not all of a sudden.” I twist my napkin around my fingers. “I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's just that you haven't been here to talk about it.”

“We'd hardly ever see you.” Mom squeezes my hand.

“We'd still FaceTime. That's what we do now anyway.”

I try not to play the guilt card too often, but tonight I have to put it on the table. I know my parents feel guilty that they're not around as much as they'd like. As I look at their faces, I know I got them. They feel bad.

I'm just not sure if they feel bad enough.

The waitress comes with our main course. Even though
my stomach is jumpy, I practically inhale my ravioli. It is
that
good.

“I know this isn't the present you really want.” Dad hands me a small box, gift-wrapped in shiny orange wrapping paper. “But we hope you like it.”

I unwrap the box, open it up, and find a silver chain with a shiny ruby dangling from it. “Thank you,” I say. “I love it.” And I really do. I almost feel bad for trying to guilt my parents into letting me go to boarding school.

Almost.

I decide not to say anything more about school until we get home. I don't want them to think I don't appreciate their gift.

After scarfing down a double-chocolate-mousse cake, we pay the check, and Suit Man escorts us out of the room. He opens the back door, and we head back to the parking lot, where we are met with a sudden bombardment of cameras and flashes.

Dad puts his arm around my shoulder and shields my face with his jacket. There are paparazzi everywhere. Jimmy is trying to drive the car toward us, but photographers just jump right in front of him. I wonder if it's illegal to run them over.

One of the photographers steps right in front of me, and Dad shoves him so hard that he falls. I stumble over him and wind up on my butt. Dad pulls me up and out of the way of
the others, who seem to be multiplying. The bright lights are blinding me, and everyone's yelling at once—including Mom, who's using some very rude words. Jimmy finally reaches us and stops the car. He jumps out of the driver's seat and opens the back door. He grabs Mom's arm and ushers her in. I put my hands over my ears and squeeze my eyes shut as Dad pulls me into the car and slams the door.

The second the door closes, Jimmy peels out of the parking lot onto La Cienega Boulevard.

“Are you okay, Bea?” Dad asks.

“Yeah,” I say. I look down at my beautiful silver dress, which is covered in dirt. At least it's not ripped. I'm sure I can get the dirt out. A rip would have been much harder to fix.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Miller,” Jimmy says. “They appeared out of nowhere.”

“That's okay, Jimmy,” Dad says. “They always do.”

“We were so careful.” Mom throws her hands up in the air. “What is wrong with these people? Why can't they let anyone enjoy a family night out?”

“They're pariahs,” Dad says, “but they're just doing their jobs.”

“Maybe, but I don't know how they sleep at night.” Mom's face is flushed.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “This is why I want to go to Maine.” I'm surprised by how quietly this comes out.

Mom and Dad just look at me.

“This isn't normal,” I say.

Now Mom and Dad look at each other. I swear they have some secret mind-reading thing going on. Mom sighs, and Dad nods. It's not an actual conversation, but I know they're thinking the same thing.

“Okay, hon,” Mom says. “We'll look into this Midcoast Academy. No promises, though. We need to learn much more about it.”

I lean over and give Mom a giant hug. I immediately know, deep down in my heart, that they'll let me go. I try to hide my beaming smile as I think about the fact that I will soon be away from Sophie and Damon and Hollywood and paparazzi. I will soon be a student of Midcoast Academy.

I will soon be normal.

 4 

I
GO TO school the next day but fake feeling sick, hoping everyone will leave me alone. It doesn't work.

“How was Sarriette's?” Sophie asks during lunch.

“How'd you know I was at Sarriette's?” I pull the lid off my bowl of fruit salad.

“There were pictures online. Your dad's arm was blocking most of your face, but of course I knew it was you.”

At least my face wasn't showing. My parents hate it when my picture gets out.

“So your parents are home?” Sophie pops a piece of pineapple into her mouth.

“Yeah, till Friday.”

“Maybe I can come over after school this week. We can hang out.” I stare at her. My blood boils as I look at her
fake smile and her fake fingernails and the fake BFF necklace that I gave her for Christmas. I want to tell her that I know. I want to tell her that she isn't fooling me. I want to tell her that she's evil and rotten and mean. I want to tell her, but I don't. I do, however, notice that she's got lettuce in her teeth. I don't tell her that, either, and knowing that she's walking around with green teeth calms me down a little.

Somehow I make it through the rest of the day, and my parents are both on the deck when I get home.

“How was school, Bea?” Dad asks. He's standing over a pitcher of iced tea and pours me a glass.

“Not great.” I take a sip. “Did you get a chance to look at the Midcoast Academy website?”

“Yes,” Mom answers. “And while it looks lovely, you can't tell everything from a website. I think we need to visit. Maybe we can do that next month when Dad and I are home for a few weeks and—”

“I can't wait another month,” I interrupt her.

“It's just a month, hon.” Mom takes my hand.

“That's another month I'd have to spend at school.” Tears fill my eyes, and no matter how hard I try to suck them back into my head, it's no use. They spill out.

“Oh, hon.” Mom stands up and pulls me into a hug. “What is going on at school?”

I have no choice. If I never want to step foot in that school again, I know I've got to talk. In between sobs, I tell
them everything. I tell them about Sophie and Damon and how they think I'm lame and boring and ugly.

“Bea.” Dad takes my shoulders. “Those kids are just insecure and mean. I hope you don't believe what they said.”

I don't know what I believe. All I know is that the thought of going back to that school and seeing Sophie's awful face makes my insides feel all twisted up.

“You are a beautiful girl, inside and out.” Dad smiles and his eyes crinkle. “Your real friends will see that.”

“That's just it,” I say. “I don't have real friends here. That's why I want to try something new.”

“I know, hon, but we won't have time to get to Maine before Dad and I have to get back on the road,” Mom says.

“Can't Ellie go with me?” I know my parents have total trust in Ellie.

Mom and Dad look at each other, and I can tell they're having another one of their psychic conversations.

“I suppose she could,” Mom says. “But we need to ask her.”

I break out in a smile and fling open the French doors leading into the house. “Ellie! Ellie!” I run into the kitchen and find her sitting at the desk in front of the computer. “Can you come onto the deck? We want to ask you something.”

“What is it, Bea?” Ellie asks as I grab her by the hand and pull her outside.

Mom and Dad are both standing now, talking to each other quietly.