Ruby Reinvented (21 page)

“Look at you, handsome,” Holly says. Connor's cheeks turn the color of the punch. “Did you hear that Bea's going to open up a dress shop?”

“That's awesome,” Connor says. He looks at me and smiles, and now my face is the color of the punch.

Thankfully, Summer, Katie, and Antoinette run up to us at that very moment, giving my face the chance to get back to its normal color. Shane and Timmy arrive just as the band starts playing Katie's favorite song. She screams and drags us all out on the dance floor with her. We dance like crazy—until the slower music comes on—and then we go sit down. Some of the older kids stay on the dance floor for the slow songs.

The next song the band plays is a cover of the number one hit song, “Hear It from You.” Katie squeals, and we're all back on the dance floor. I never paid much attention to the lyrics before, but now they're loud and clear.
Oh baby, baby, baby, we've got some talking to do. I know you're lying to me. I need to hear it from you.

Ugh. I never did like that song.

Summer gives me a lopsided smile, and I look back at her and wince. Now that Summer knows the truth, I feel more obligated than ever to tell Connor. And I will. I just have to find the right time.

I ignore the lyrics, which seem to be screaming at me, and focus on dancing. Maybe it's the energy from the song,
or the fact that we're all whirling around the dance floor, but the pit in my stomach slowly disappears. If Summer understands, maybe my other friends will too. If Summer understands, maybe Connor will understand.

“Hear It from You” ends, and the band goes into a slow song. I'm about to follow Summer and the gang off of the dance floor when Connor taps me on the shoulder.

“You, uhhhh, you want to stay and dance?” He looks at me for a minute, then looks down at his shoes.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

The older kids are back on the dance floor, so I look at them to see how you're supposed to dance to something this slow. They look like they're doing a combination of dancing and hugging, which looks kind of nice and kind of weird. Connor takes a step toward me and puts one hand on my waist. He takes my other hand with his other hand, and then quickly drops it. He wipes his hand on his pants and then picks my hand up again. His hand is warm and a little wet, but not icky wet—more like a warm washcloth.

We sway to the music, and my heartbeat speeds up as I realize that this is my first real dance with a boy. Unfortunately, my heart isn't the only thing that speeds up. My feet do too, and I step on his toes.

“Sorry!” I step back, which causes his arm to fall off my waist.

“That's okay,” Connor says. “This isn't a great song, anyway.”

I force a smile. There's a sour taste in my mouth as I realize he doesn't really want to dance to the slow song. He probably wants to hang out with Shane and Summer and everyone—

“Hey, would you like to take a walk to the tennis court?” Thankfully Connor interrupts my thought.

“The tennis court?”

“Yeah, I hear they have some cool decorations out there.”

“Sure, but don't you want to get back to Summer and Shane and those guys?”

Connor's smile immediately fades. “Do you?”

“No,” I say. “Not unless you want to.”

“No, I don't. Not right now, anyway.” Connor wipes his hands on his pants again. “If it's okay with you.”

“Oh yeah, it's okay with me.”

We zigzag around the other dancers to the back door of the gym, which opens up to a lighted path leading to the tennis court. A bunch of other dressed-up kids run by us. When we reach the tennis court, I blink. If it weren't for the green surface, I'd never know that it's actually a tennis court. The nets are gone, and instead the court is covered with a bunch of small, white wrought-iron tables, complete with a bright bouquet of flowers in the center of each one.
The fence surrounding the court is lit up with strings and strings of white lights.

“This is amazing,” I say.

“It's really cool,” Connor says. We're standing next to one of the white tables. Connor looks up and points to the sky. “See the Big Dipper?”

I squint at the sky, searching for the sideways question mark.

“Just over there.” Connor points up and to the right.

“Oh yeah.” I clap my hands together. “I see it.”

I can't believe I've never really looked at the sky before Connor pointed it out. It's so magical it almost looks fake.

“I could show you more constellations, if you want.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Connor doesn't answer, and I mentally slap myself in the head. Maybe he just said that he'd show me more constellations to be nice. Maybe he doesn't really want to show me more constellations at all, but I said yes, so now he's got to. Maybe—

“Bea, I just want you to know how much I like you.”

I can barely hear the music coming from the gym over the sound of my heart. I didn't even know it could beat that loud.

“I like you, too.” I look down at the green surface beneath my feet. Connor's looking at me, and as he does so his face is moving closer to mine. Is he going to kiss me? I think he's
going to kiss me. Of course I can't be sure, because I've never been kissed before, but his face is getting awfully close to mine. I close my eyes, because that's what people do in the movies, and because I don't know what else to do.

Just as I think Connor might kiss me, a piercing scream comes from the path between the gym and the tennis court.

A group of people are walking fast toward us. At first I can't tell who they are because it's all a big blur, but then they stop and look right at us.

That's when I see the cameras.

And the flashes.

That many cameras in one place?

That can only mean one thing.

The paparazzi found me.

 28 

I
GRAB CONNOR'S hand and run to the back gate of the courts. There's lots of yelling and Connor's asking me what's going on, but my voice is frozen and I can't answer him. How did the paparazzi find me here?

I know there are woods on the other side of the courts, just past the gate, because one time during gym class I hit my ball way over the fence and had to go get it. I'm hoping we can get in there and hide before they find us.

Thankfully, it's dark outside, and the farther into the woods and away from the tennis courts we go, the darker it gets. My dress gets caught on some thorns, but I can't worry about that now. I can still hear voices, but they don't sound as close. Just to be safe, I keep going and realize I'm still holding Connor's hand.

“Bea, where are we going? Who are those people?” Connor asks when I finally stop running. I look toward the tennis courts but can't see anything except trees. I'm pretty sure we lost them.

“There's something I have to tell you—about me.” I put my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath.

“Okay . . . ,” Connor starts to say. He's smiling. I wish he wouldn't do that.

“It's bad.”

“You're a fugitive?”

I give him a weak smile. “No.”

“A foreign spy?” Connor guesses.

I shake my head.

“I know. You're a dude!”

This time I actually laugh a little.

“So if it's not any of those things, what could be so bad?”

I take a deep breath. “My parents aren't—dead.”

Even though it's dark in the woods, I can see that Connor's smile is instantly erased from his face. There are tiny lines on his cheeks where his dimples were a second ago.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean . . .” I stand up straight and start pacing. “I didn't exactly tell the truth about my parents.”

“You're parents aren't dead?” Connor's whole body looks limp.

I bow my head. “No. They are alive and well. I never meant to lie. It just came out that way when I first met Summer and—”

“They didn't die in a car accident?”

My throat feels like it's closing up, and I tug at my necklace. “No. I'm so sorry—”

“They didn't die at all?” Connor's eyes have gone from sparkly silver to storm gray. He slumps against a tree so that every part of his body is facing downward. Except his eyes. His eyes are staring right at me.

“Please, let me explain.” I stop pacing and look at him. He doesn't say anything, so I go on. I'm blurting it all out at once, quite possibly rivaling Timmy's mile-a-minute mouth. “My parents—they're Zack Miller and Celestine Cruz—and at my old school my friends only pretended to be my friends so they could meet them and of course I was devastated when I found out and I was afraid it would happen again so I told Summer I didn't have parents and somehow I said they were dead and then she told me your parents died and I felt terrible but by then it was too late to take it back so I just went on pretending—”

Connor stood up, his body now stiff as a board. “You pretended your parents were dead so we'd like you?”

“No. No, it's not like that. I pretended my parents were dead so nobody would find out who my parents really were—”

“That is sick.” Connor says. “I can't believe you'd do that.”

“I didn't mean to,” I squeak.

“I can't believe the things I told you.” Connor runs his hands through his hair. “Thoughts about my parents that I never told anybody. I thought you understood.”

“I did understand,” I say. “I do.”

He's looking at me with an ice-cold stare, but I stumble on. “Even though my parents aren't dead, I do understand your feelings. My parents are alive, but they're away a lot and not around much like real parents—”

“Are you comparing your parents who are away a lot to my parents who are
dead  
?”

“No, I just—” My voice comes out as a whisper.

“Do I even know who you are?” Connor shakes his head slowly.

“I'm still me. Nothing changed—”

“Everything changed.” Connor stares at me for a second, his jaw clenched. Then, before I can say anything else, he turns and runs back toward the tennis court.

And I'm left standing in the woods, with a two-inch rip in my dream dress, alone.

I know I can't stay here long, but I can't bear the thought of facing anyone, so I slide down a tree and sit, picking pine needles off the ground. I don't know how long I'm there for, but we have a curfew, and if I'm not back on time, the whole school will come looking for me. That is, if they aren't already.

I drag myself back toward the tennis courts, which thankfully are empty. The gym lights are still on, and I can see some kids cleaning up. Instead of taking the usual sidewalk to my dorm, I lurk behind the buildings like a criminal. A criminal in a ripped linen dress.

Summer's pacing when I open the door to our room.

“Omigod, Bea, where have you been?”

I take my beat-up shoes off and fling them in the closet. Then I slump into my desk chair, and that's when the tears come. Buckets of them.

“The paparazzi found me. Well, they almost found me anyway.”

“What? How?”

“Who knows?” I throw my hands in the air. “We were on the tennis courts, and I really thought Connor was going to kiss me, and then these people were coming toward us with cameras so Connor and I ran into the woods to hide and that's when I told him the truth.”

“Oh, Bea.” Summer looks down at the floor.

“I know. He hates me.” I tug at the rip in my dress.

“I'm so sorry.” Summer bites the inside of her cheek. “But I don't think those people were paparazzi.”

I jerk my head up. “What?”

Summer puts her hand on my shoulder. “The local press came to take pictures of the dance and the decorations
outside. They were doing a story on Midcoast. Holly told me about it when the photographers came through the dance taking pictures.”