Ruby Reinvented (9 page)

Summer and her sister look nothing alike, which is why I didn't immediately realize they were sisters. Holly has brown curly hair, while Summer's is straight and blond. Summer has blue eyes; Holly's are brown. They both have
the same cute little nose, which I have to admit, I'm a little jealous of. I have Mom's wide nose, which works really well on
her
face.

Mrs. Kearney comes out of her office, briefcase in hand. “Clara's Café tonight?”

“Yes, Mrs. Kearney,” Holly says.

“How are you adjusting to life at Midcoast?” Mrs. Kearney asks me as she locks her office door.

“It's great.” I smile.

“I'm glad you like it. It must be quite different than home.”

Oh no. Of course Mrs. Kearney knows who my parents are. They registered me!

Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I try to think of something to say to change the subject, but my mind is blank. I hold my breath, waiting for her to say something else and blow my cover.

“Can we bring you back a lobster roll?” Holly asks.

I exhale.

Mrs. Kearney laughs. “No thanks, Holly, but you're sweet to ask. Say hi to your folks for me.”

“We will,” Holly says. “Have a good night.”

Summer rolls her eyes and whispers to me, “Holly's the ninth grade class president. That's why she's so insanely friendly with everyone who works here.”

I nod as if this makes perfect sense. All I know is that Holly just saved my life.

The front door opens, and Summer leaps off the couch toward the two people who walk in. They must be her parents. I stand and subtly floof my hair.

“Mommy!” Summer hugs her mom, who looks exactly like Holly in older form, and then she hugs her Dad, who looks exactly like Summer in man form. Holly hugs them next, and I just stand by the couch smiling like a dork. I fold my hands in front of me but realize that looks a little creepy, so I force my arms to just hang at my side.

Summer's mom gives Connor a hug, and Summer's dad shakes his hand.

“You must be Bea.” Summer's mom comes toward me with her arms outstretched.

“Nice to meet you,” I say after she releases me from a hug.

“We're so happy you'll be joining us,” Summer's mom says. “I'm Veronica, and this is Eric.” She motions to Summer's dad, who gives me a handshake instead of a hug.

“It's finally getting nice outside, so we thought we'd walk, if that's okay with you, Bea,” Eric says.

“Sure,” I say. I'm glad I wore my Converses—comfortable but fashionable and the spot-on choice with my T-shirt dress.

“Look at Bea's dress, Mom,” Summer says. “She made it.”

“You made that?” Veronica holds the door open for us, and we all pile out onto the walkway.

“Yes.” I look down at my sneakers. She probably thinks it's ridiculous.

“Wow,” Veronica says. “You're really talented.”

I jerk my head up and smile uncontrollably. Nobody has ever called me talented before. Nobody ever. When you're the daughter of a supermodel-turned–television star and the best pitcher in the major leagues, regular, everyday talent doesn't look too interesting.

“That's why I needed the T-shirts.” Summer grabs a shopping bag out of Veronica's hand. “Thanks for bringing them!”

The smile is still glued to my face as we walk into town. Holly's walking behind us with her parents. Summer, as usual, is skipping ahead. Which means I'm walking with Connor. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress and give myself a pat on the back for making the dress out of cotton.

“You'll love Clara's,” Connor says.

“It's good?” I ask, and give myself a mental face palm.
Of course it's good, Ruby. He just said you'd love it.

“It's my favorite restaurant in town.” Connor either doesn't notice my stupid question or he chooses to ignore it.

“It's really nice of Summer's parents to take us out.”

“Oh yeah, they're awesome.” Connor pauses. “When did it happen?”

I glance at him. “When did what happen?”

“Your parents.” He's looking down at the sidewalk. “When did they—when did they pass away?”

Uh-oh. The neurons in my brain are firing blanks. I can't think of an answer. Did I tell Summer when they pretend “died”? I don't remember! And I have to be sure to keep my story straight if—

“I'm sorry.” Connor hangs his head even lower than it was before. “That was rude of me to ask.”

“Oh, no—not at all,” I stammer. “It's just that I—I don't remember much about it. Them. I was really little.”

Connor nods.

“How about you?” I don't really want to talk about dead parents, but since he asked about mine, I guess I should ask about his.

“I was six.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes.

“Wow.” I look over at him, but he's not looking at me. “How'd it happen?”

“Car accident.”

“Wow.”

“How about you?”

“What?”

“How did your parents die?”

Oh, right.

“Um, same.” I can't think of anything else to say, so I say the first thing that pops into my mind. How could I be so stupid? I could have said something else.
Anything
else. Fire, plane crash, train wreck, deadly virus, killer bees. But no, I don't think of those other things fast
enough, so not only does Connor think that we both have dead parents, but he also thinks they died the same way. This can't be good.

“Sucks, doesn't it?” This time he looks at me.
Right
at me.

“Totally,” I say.

 11 

I
LEARN TWO new things tonight. Lobster rolls are to die for. And Parents' Weekend is six weeks away.

“Is your nana coming up?” Summer asks. “If she isn't, you can hang with us.”

“I'm not sure,” I say. “I haven't talked to her about it. I didn't even know there was a Parents' Weekend.”

“It's a huge deal at Midcoast. You'll see.” Summer takes a bite of her second lobster roll.

“Summer, don't freak her out,” Holly says.

“What? It is a big deal. There's the Spotlight Project, and of course the dance. That's the best part.” As much as I dread finding a way to keep my parents away from Parents' Weekend, I'm kinda excited about the dance. I've never been to a school dance before.

After dinner we roll ourselves out of Clara's and make our way back to the dorms. We pass the chocolate shop and the ice cream shop, but I'm too stuffed to want to stop.

“Check it out, Mom.” Holly points to a newsstand next door to the ice cream shop. “
National Geographic
's ocean issue is out.” She runs over to the magazine and immediately flips through it.

Summer rolls her eyes. “Have you ever seen anyone get so excited about whales?”

I laugh, until I notice that Summer, Connor, and I are right in front of the tabloid section. And smack in front of my nose is
Celebrity Scuttlebutt
magazine. And who's on the cover of
Celebrity Scuttlebutt
this month? Zack Miller, Celestine Cruz, and their daughter—whose face is hidden in this particular picture—leaving Sarriette's.

I can taste the lobster roll coming back up, but there's no way I can puke now.
Breathe, Ruby.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath in. I have to get everyone out of here. Now. Before someone decides to flip through
Celebrity Scuttlebutt.
What if there's a photo of me inside? I do a quick check of everyone's location. Holly and her mom are still looking at
National Geographic
. Eric is reading something in
Newsweek
. Summer and Connor are still right next to me, and I'm still right in front of
Celebrity Scuttlebutt
.

Without thinking, I point to the magazine rack that's as far away as possible from the tabloids. “Wow! Look at that!”

“What?” Summer asks, following the direction of my finger.

I walk toward the rack, with my finger pointing.

“
Popular Mechanics
?” Connor asks.

“Uhhhh.” Yep, I'm in the car section. “Yeah. Cool, right?”

“I didn't know you liked engines.” Connor was beaming.

“Well, I don't. I mean, I do, but . . . it's just that I love the picture on the cover.” Great. Another lie.

“What is it?” Summer cocks her head to one side, as if looking at the cover from a different angle will help her figure it out.

I purse my lips. I have no idea what it is. It's just a bunch of metal parts clumped together in the shape of a snail.

“It's a turbocharger,” Connor says, as if everyone knows that.

“Yeah, it's a turbocharger.” I nod. “A nice one.”

Connor looks at me and smiles. “I'm impressed that you know what that is.”

I wave my hand in front of my face, desperate to end this conversation and leave the newsstand. But Connor's distracted by another magazine, and we follow him to the next rack.

“It's the new issue of
Astronomy.
” He picks it up and stares at the cover, which shows a photo of a giant telescope.

“How cool would this be for the observation deck?” Connor asks Summer.

“That'd be awesome.” Her eyes are as big as the telescope.

“I'm putting together plans to build an observation deck off the science room,” Connor explains. “Summer's dad is helping me.”

“That's really cool,” I say. Before I can say anything else, Summer's mom waves us over.

“You guys ready?” she asks.

“Yep!” I'm the first one back on the sidewalk.

We're about a block past the newsstand when the back of my neck sprouts sprinklers. What happens if someone from Midcoast goes to that newsstand and looks inside
Celebrity Scuttlebutt
? What happens if I'm in there? I've got to get rid of those magazines. And I've got to get rid of them now—before it's too late.

“Uh-oh.” I stop walking. Everyone else stops too. “I think I dropped some money out of my pocket. Must have been while we were at the newsstand.”

“That's okay, Bea,” Veronica says. “We can go back and look. It's only a block—”

“No, I'll go.” I turn around and break into a light jog. “I'll be right back.”

“We'll come with you.” Summer starts running to catch me.

“No, really, I'll be right back.” And I run faster than I've ever run before.

Every few seconds I glance behind me to be sure nobody's following. They're not. Not yet anyway.

There's a huge stack of
Celebrity Scuttlebutt
magazines, and I quickly realize I can't hide them all. I run up to the cashier, breathless.

“How many of those do you have?” I point to the stack.

“Whatever's there,” he says.

I peek my head down the block to be sure nobody's coming. “I'll take all of them.”

“All of them? I don't even know how many are there. It will take me a minute to count them.”

“I don't have a minute. How many do you think there are?”

The cashier walks over to the stack and starts counting. “Probably about seventy-five. Maybe one hundred.”

“And how much are they?” I pull my wallet out of my purse.

“Three dollars each.”

I try to do the math in my head. I'm figuring one hundred magazines because I want to make sure I get all of them, and anyway, one hundred is way easier to multiply by three than seventy-five.

I pull out my credit card and shove it into the cashier's hand “Just put three hundred dollars on there.”

Another peek down the street, and I see that Summer and Connor are walking this way.

 12