Ruby Reinvented (12 page)

I smile.

“You know what I think?” Summer is tapping her pencil against her desk now.

“What?”

“I think he likes you.”

I turn around so fast that my arm knocks my books off of my desk, and they crash to the floor. I bend down to pick them up, which gives me the perfect excuse to hide my face so Summer can't see how red it is.

“Wh-what? No. Why do you think that?” I stammer as I put my books back on my desk. She smiles. “I can just tell.”

“Did he—did he say something?” I keep my voice cool and steady.

“No, but he talks to you a lot.”

“Yeah, but maybe he's just friendly.” My stomach is flipping and flopping.

“He's not.” Summer laughs.

“Well I—I don't think—”

“You guys do have a lot in common. You know, with your parents and all.”

“That's not really enough of a reason to
like
someone, though. I mean, you know, there has to be more than that,” I say.

“You both like baseball,” Summer points out.

That part is true. But I don't think Connor even knows that I like baseball.

“Anyway, it's just a hunch. I could be wrong.” Summer goes back to doing her homework, and I go back to pretending to do mine. There's no way I can concentrate on symbolism and metaphors now I know Connor might actually like me!

I replay my conversation with Summer over in my mind.

I think he likes you. . . . You guys do have a lot in common.

My stomach sinks into my socks when I remember that I'm not who Connor thinks I am. And, now that I'm thinking about it,
I'm
not even sure who I am. Am I Ruby, daughter of celebrities, or am I Bea, daughter of nobody?

 14 

I
SCOOT OUT of dinner a little early so I can open up my boxes without Summer there. I tell her I'm heading up to the room, and she volunteers to come with me. I whisper that I have to go to the bathroom, and trust me, she doesn't want to be anywhere in the vicinity, if she knows what I mean. She laughs and gives me a thumbs-up.

I tackle the boxes as soon as I get in the door, and it's a good thing, too. Right on top of the biggest box is a framed photo of me with my parents. I slip it under my mattress. In this box Ellie packed my clothes and shoes, a few books, Luke and Leia (my two favorite teddy bears), and my headphones.

“Yes!” I say out loud. At least if Summer does hear my conversations, she won't hear my parents on the other end.
I could just pretend I'm talking to Ellie or a friend back home.

I gasp when I open the next box. I didn't expect that Ellie would send me my fabric collection, but I'm thrilled that she did. I pull out a roll of hot pink chiffon silk that I got in India when Mom did a fashion show in New Delhi. Then I find a sheet of white Italian linen from Rome that I picked up when Dad filmed a cologne commercial there. On top of the rolls of fabric are my collection of accessories. There's the shabby-chic spool of ribbon from Paris, the antique brass buttons from a New York flea market, and a bag of sequins from a dress that Mom threw out years ago.

At the very bottom of the box is a design I started last year but never finished. I hold it close, touching the lace overlay against my cheek for a few seconds, then gently put it back where it came from—placing everything else carefully on top—and push the box under my bed.

I unpack my clothes and put them in my closet. I'm not sure how all my clothes will fit in here. At home my closet is the size of this entire room, which seems pretty crazy now. I pull out the silver dress I wore on my birthday, just as Summer opens the door.

“Whoa,” she says. “That's an awesome dress.”

“Thank you.” I put it on a hanger. “It's one of the ones I made.”

“No. Way.” Summer's staring at it, her eyes wide. “You
made that?” She runs her hand over the soft, shimmering fabric.

“It was pretty easy, really. These sequins here were the only hard part.” I point to the sequins on the straps.

“Bea, you
have t
o apply for the Spotlight Project. You have to.”

“I don't think they're good enough to be
spotlighted
—”

“I just had the best idea!” Summer's bouncing up and down. “A fashion show! Instead of just submitting your designs, you should do a fashion show!”

“What do you mean? Like with models?”

“Totally! I'll be a model, and I'm sure Holly and her friends will do it too. I bet Katie and Cassandra would love to. Especially Cassandra. Just make sure she gets a fancy dress.”

Now I'm bouncing up and down too. I imagine everyone looking at my clothes, thinking I actually have a talent. Maybe people would really like them?

“You really think so?” I ask Summer.

“Totally!” We hold hands and bounce up and down together.

“Okay, but I'm not even sure how to apply—”

“Don't worry. I'll help you,” Summer promises. “It will be pure awesomeness.”

We squeal and jump for several minutes, until Ms. Goldberg peeks her head in and asks us to keep the noise down. Summer helps me put away the rest of my stuff, and
I show her the other dresses I've made, which she completely goes crazy for. She's already decided who will wear what dress for the fashion show.

“I'll be the coordinator, so you don't have to worry about anything but designing dresses,” she declares.

“But don't I first have to get accepted as the Spotlight Project?”

“Yeah, but you'll definitely win. No one else is doing anything as cool as this. Let's get working on the application now! The deadline is midnight tonight.” Summer opens her computer. We log on to the student portal of Midcoast's website and click the Spotlight Project application button. There are a bunch of questions that are pretty easy, like “What is your project?” and “How will your project be displayed?” that I answer out loud while Summer types what I say. I'm a little stuck on “Why are you excited about this project?”

“That's a hard one to answer.” I pace while Summer sits at the computer, fingers on keyboard, ready to type.

“Why? Just talk out loud about why you want to do this.”

“Well,” I begin. “I've always loved to draw dresses because clothes are like the wrapping paper on a present. They don't change what's inside, but they brighten up the outside.” I don't tell her that I've been to more fashion shows than I can count, and, while the designs are always
beautiful, they don't always make the person who wears them more beautiful.

“That's good!” Summer types what I say.

“Then, El—my nana—taught me how to sew, and that was nice because it was something we could do together, just the two of us.”

“Keep going.” Summer's fingers are flying across the keyboard.

“So, designing and making the dresses combined two things that I love: making people brighter and spending time with—with my nana.” I almost say Ellie again.

“That's perfect!” Summer hits the submit button, and my application is complete.

I'm so excited about the possibility of winning the Spotlight Project spot that I don't even think about the fact that it will take place during Parents' Weekend. That is, until I talk with my parents.

“Hey, Bea,” Dad says. I plug my headphones in, even though Summer is safely in the shower.

“Hi, Dad. Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, baby. How was your day?”

“Great! My stuff came.”

“Oh good,” Mom says. “We got something today too.”

“What's that?”

“An e-mail about Parents' Weekend.”

I blink.

“Did you hear me, hon?” Mom says. “It sounds like our connection's cutting out.”

“Yeah, I heard you. That's great. I've heard about Parents' Weekend. I think it's sometime in May.”

“It is, but unfortunately the show doesn't go on hiatus until June, and your father will be in the middle of the season.”

I suck my cheeks in so I don't smile. “Oh no. That's such a shame.” I bite my lower lip, hoping that will make me look sad.

“We're so disappointed.” Dad frowns.

“Me too,” I say. “But don't worry about it. It's probably not that big a deal.”

“I don't know.” Mom shakes her head. “The e-mail made it seem like it was a big deal. Maybe we could find a way to change our schedules—”

I interrupt her before she can finish that sentence. “All e-mails make everything seem like a big deal, Mom. They probably hire somebody just to send out e-mails like that. I wouldn't worry about it.”

“We don't want you to feel left out,” Dad tells me. “What if you're the only kid there without parents in town?”

“I know for sure that I won't be.” I smile so they know it's no big deal. “Really, don't worry about it. Summer already invited some of us to hang out with her parents, since they live close.”

“So there are other parents who aren't coming?” Mom asks.

“Yeah, a bunch,” I say. I don't know how many make up a
bunch, but I decide that me and Connor are, for the sake of this discussion, a bunch.

“Okay.” Mom presses her lips together. “If you're sure.”

“I'm sure.” I nod.

“We really miss you, Bea,” Dad says.

“I miss you guys too, but there's only two months left of school, and then I'll be home all summer. You'll be sick of me by July.”

Mom and Dad laugh, and I can tell this crisis has been averted. We go on to talk about regular everyday stuff like my English paper and campus food. I don't mention the Spotlight Project application. Even though they've never shown any interest in my dresses, I don't want to give them
any
reason to show up.

I get off FaceTime just as Summer finishes her shower. Perfect timing. In fact, today's been a pretty perfect day. My boxes came, I might get to do a fashion show as the Spotlight Project, and my parents aren't coming for Parents' Weekend.

And the best part? Summer thinks Connor might like me.

Right now I'm way too pumped up to even worry about anyone finding out about my parents. I mean, I know it's wrong to lie, but it's not like I'm lying for no reason. I'm lying because it's the only way to know for sure that my friends like me for who I am. That's a big deal for someone in my situation. I decide that's the way I have to
look at it from now on. I can't feel bad about it anymore. This is something I have to do. It's self-preservation. I practically have no choice.

As I wait to fall asleep, all I can think about are dress designs and boys with dimples.

 15