Ruby Reinvented (25 page)

 34 

W
E GOT HERE as fast as we could,” Mom says.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.

Dad wraps me in a hug, and I breathe in his leather jacket. Every muscle in my body instantly relaxes. I feel like I'm five years old again, crawling into bed with my parents when I had a bad dream.

“So how can we help?” Mom asks.

As much as I'd like to, I can't stay in this moment forever. I pull myself away from Dad and grab Mom's dress off the hanger.

“Would you wear this?”

I gently hand her the dress. Mom holds it out in front of her and tears pour out of her eyes.

Dad's holding her hand, not saying a word, and
when I look closer, I see that he's tearing up too.

“Why are you guys crying?” Now I'm crying again. Crying is like yawning. Once someone else does it, I have to also.

Mom's shaking her head, dabbing a tissue to her eyes.

“Are you upset with me?” I ask.

“No, of course not.” Mom's laughing and crying at the same time. “Why would you think that?”

“Uhhhh, because I told everyone you were dead?”

Now Dad's half laughing, half crying.

“Bea.” Dad kneels down next to me. “You're such a great kid, and you're turning into a wonderful young woman. Despite us, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

Mom's back on the stool next to me. “What Dad's trying to say . . .” Mom swallows. “We haven't been the best parents, hon. And we're really sorry.”

Oh boy. Now she's sobbing. And it's all my fault.

“No! Mom, Dad, that's not what I think—”

“We know you don't, Bea.” Dad takes my hand. “And that's what makes you so special. You never once thought that maybe we were the problem. But we were. We are.”

“No, you're great parents.” I squeeze Dad's hand.

“We love you very much.” Dad squeezes back. “But we could do better.”

“We could be involved more,” Mom adds. “We
will
be involved more.” She and Dad are having one of their
psychic conversations, and he's nodding as she talks.

“I'm really sorry. About the dresses. I just never knew—” Mom stifles a sob. “I just never knew that you had this amazing talent. I guess I was too wrapped up in my own stuff.”

“We both were,” Dad says.

“Well, you guys have important jobs.”

“Listen to me.” Mom's dark eyes look directly at me. “Nothing is more important than being your parents.”

There's a knock on the dressing room door, and Tess peeks her head in. She does a double take when she sees my parents, but then her eyes fall back on me.

“Three minutes thirty-five seconds,” Tess says.

“Go.” Mom unzips her jacket. “We'll meet you backstage.”

I throw off my shoes and hold them in my hands (only Mom can run in heels), bolt out of the dressing room, and slide down the hall in my stockings. I arrive at Tess's side just as the music's ending, then I slip back into my shoes, floof my hair, and, as gracefully as possible, walk onstage toward Mr. Zabar.

Mr. Zabar's obviously a professional, because he looks at me as if I was supposed to be there. “Ladies and gentlemen, Bea Miller!”

The crowd cheers again, and if I wasn't so distracted, I probably would have turned as red as the runway.

I take the microphone from Mr. Zabar, and the crowd quiets down.

“Thank you.” I'm holding the microphone too close to my mouth, and the feedback makes my ears vibrate. I bring the microphone down to chest level and try again. “Thank you. It's so nice of you all to come and bid on these dresses. As you know, we're raising money for an amazing observation deck to be built right here on campus. This is an important project to me, and to my friends.” I motion to the models who are lined up next to me.

“Another thing that's important to me is my family. Sometimes I forget that because—well—because my family isn't like most families. And that's why it's not always easy to talk about it. . . .” I stop and look at the audience. Now that the house lights are on, I can see the entire auditorium. Summer's parents are seated a few rows back, and I almost drop the microphone when I see Connor sitting next to them.

“I know now that families aren't all the same. Some families aren't even families at all. They're really good friends who become your family, who take care of you like family. And that counts too.” I stare right at Connor, but he doesn't look at me at all. His program is open in his lap, and he's leafing through it.

“On this special day, I'd like to introduce you to my family.” Whispering fills the auditorium, and almost everyone starts looking around. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my dad—Zack Miller.”

Dad enters from stage left, at which point the entire room bursts out in applause and whoops and cheers. I can barely hear what he says when he comes up and hugs me.

I peek around him to where Mom is waiting backstage. She's wearing her dress, and my jaw becomes unhinged from the rest of my face when I see her because I've never seen her look so amazing. This is what happens when fashion wears a person, instead of a person wearing fashion.

I whisper to Dad and give him the card that I made up about the dress—just in case. Then I hand him the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins. “Our feature design is worn by my wife, the one and only Celestine Cruz!”

Mom struts down the runway, smiling and waving to the crowd. The audience is on its feet, stamping and clapping and screaming loud enough to drown out the music. I glance at my models, who are looking somewhat shell-shocked. I guess I'll have some explaining to do.

As soon as Dad starts talking, you could hear a pin drop. “This vintage-inspired, sleeveless, lace overlay has a gorgeous silver grosgrain ribbon at the waist. Sequins line the fitted bodice for the look that will make you shine brighter than the brightest star.”

Dad continues to read from the card, and Mom walks back and forth on the runway, spinning and twirling and
giving the crowd quite a show. Cell phones are out and flashing, capturing the star power of Mom and Dad. After Dad reads all the words on the card, I whisper in his ear, and he nods.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bidding on this divine creation will last for ten minutes. So get those phones ready. The highest bidder will not only receive this spectacular dress worn by Celestine Cruz, but you'll be giving the kids here at Midcoast a gift that will serve them for years to come.”

The Zack Miller smile lights up the stage. “And as an extra bonus, Celestine and I would be honored to treat the winning bidder to dinner. Restaurant of your choice!”

I look at Dad and cock my head. That wasn't in the script. He winks.

Tess gives me the thumbs-up from backstage, and I nod to Dad.

“Okay, folks. Bidding is open!”

The glow from cell phones lights up the room. The music starts up again, and Mom continues with the runway walk, this time escorted by Dad. As they walk past the other models, Mom and Dad give each of them hugs.

I sneak backstage to find Tess frantically typing on the laptop.

“Good gravy,” she says. “We're racking in a ton of cash here. It's gone crazy!”

I look over her shoulder. “How much time left?”

“Three minutes four seconds.”

I stand there staring at the screen. It's moving so fast that I can't even see what the bids are.

“You're not going to believe this.” Tess scrolls through open tabs on the laptop. “We're getting bids from outside of school.”

“What?” I squint at the computer. “What does that mean?”

Tess smiles. “It means the auction's gone viral.”

More numbers scroll in, and Tess never takes her eyes off the screen.

“How much time do we have?” I bite my fingernails.

“Less than one minute. The bids are still pouring in. And not just for that one dress. The bids are going higher for
all
the dresses.”

I peek out of the curtain and hold both hands up. Somehow Dad knows what I mean. Maybe my parents' psychic conversations are rubbing off on me.

“Ten seconds left to bid!” Dad yells into the microphone.

“Whoa,” Tess says.

“What?” I hover over her.

“That's it!” She sits back and takes a deep breath. “Here's the winning bid. And it came from someone here at Midcoast.”

She shows me the number on the screen, and I stumble backward. It's a big number.

I practically skip to the stage and take the microphone from Dad.

“The winning bidder is Denise Sholl.” A lady from the audience stands up and shrieks.

“Come on up here, Denise.” Dad holds his arms out for a hug. I'll bet Denise never ran so fast in her life.

“Congratulations to Denise,” I say into the microphone. “And thank you, all of you. Because of you, Midcoast Academy will be lucky enough to be home to the Jack and Diane Sullivan Memorial Observation Deck.”

The crowd is on its feet again. I scan the heads of the audience, eager to see Connor's reaction. I find Veronica and Eric, but the chair next to them is empty.

Connor is gone.

 35 

A
LL THE MODELS gather backstage after the fashion show.

I introduce my parents to my friends, who are freaking out a little. I think Katie might puke again. She pulls me aside.

“Why didn't you tell us? I thought you didn't have parents!”

“I'm really sorry.” I purse my lips, trying to figure out how to explain. “It's just that kids at my old school only pretended to like me because of my parents, and I was afraid it would happen again.”

Katie doesn't say anything for a minute, but her eyebrows are pinched, so I can tell she's thinking.

“I guess I understand that,” she finally says.

“Thanks.” I smile.

“Eeek! Your dad is so cute.” She's bouncing up and down, takes one look at me, and then stops, folding her hands in front of her.