Ruby in the Sky Read online

  “Why did we have to come here, Mom? Why can’t we move back to DC?”

  Mom bolted upright, taking the blanket with her.

  I nodded my hair forward, wishing I could snatch my words back. But it was too late. Mom’s cheeks sprouted red blotches.

  “Don’t start that again, Ruby,” she said. “You know there’s no going—” The sound of tires crackling over ice and dirt interrupted her. A gray pickup ground its way up our driveway.

  “Perfect.” Mom pulled the blanket tight around her. “Cecy’s back.”

  * * *

  The engine cut and Cecy hopped from her truck wearing the same dirt-brown barn jacket she always wore. She began tugging a giant blue Rubbermaid tub from the bed of her pickup. “I could use some help here!” she called.

  Mom fell back onto the porch swing and nudged me up. As I made my way toward the truck, Cecy eyed my jacket and sneakers. “I knew Dahlia hadn’t properly prepared for this weather,” she muttered.

  Bob came racing from around back, heading toward Cecy like a speeding bullet. He leaped up, knocking her sideways. “Get down!” she yelled. “Ruby! Control your dog!”

  I grabbed Bob’s muddy leash and pulled him off.

  “For the life of me I will not understand why you got a golden retriever, Dahlia. That dog is too big.” She brushed Bob’s fur from her coat. “And hairy.”

  I looked into Bob’s smiling face. You needed to rescue me, that’s why, he seemed to say.

  Cecy lifted the tub from the truck. I tried to help, but she was in a huff now. “Just keep that dog off me!”

  Mom opened the front door.

  “You need to shovel and spread sand. I’ll get you some,” Cecy said. Inside, she dropped the container on the warped wooden floor.

  Bob whined as I pushed him outside and closed the door. Just for a minute, I told him with my eyes. He headed off to sniff Cecy’s tires.

  “This is what I was able to find at Family Thrift.” Cecy removed the lid. “Ruby’s a size ten, right, Dahlia?”

  I’m right here, I wanted to say. And I’m a size twelve.

  “It’s freezing in here,” Cecy said. “All that southern living make you forget how to light a fire?” She opened the stove’s cast-iron door and added kindling. “I told you. You’re going to have to use this to supplement the heat. The furnace is too old to do the job alone.”

  “Really, Cecy, this place was the best you could find?” Mom said as she slumped onto the couch.

  I dug through the bin of clothes. There were a bunch of sweaters, scarves, gloves, and heavy socks, even a pair of snow boots in my size. I slipped into a brown wool dress coat and smoothed the front with my hands. It was a little snug and kind of old-fashioned, but it was warm, and there was no duct tape holding it together. Always a good thing.

  “Maybe if you didn’t get arrested at your first job here, you’d be able to afford a nicer rental.” She stood and brushed wood chips from her pants. “I had to beg Mr. Chatty to give you that job, Dahlia. Do you know how many people would love to work at Frank’s Diner? It’s a huge tourist stop in ski season.”

  “I was a dishwasher, Cecy. Not a rocket scientist. I’m sure I can find another job.”

  Cecy crossed her arms. Her mouth made a tight, straight line. “That’s not the point, Dahlia.”

  The blanket around Mom’s shoulders loosened as she set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. “You think this was my fault?” she said.

  Cecy stared back.

  This was not going to end well.

  “Ruby,” Cecy said, her gaze never leaving my mom, “I brought a casserole and a salad. Why don’t you get them from my truck?”

  As I opened the door, a frozen gust rattled the windows. But as cold as it was outside, it felt like beach weather compared to the icy battle brewing inside. I slammed the door behind me.

  Bob trotted over, dragging his leash through the snow. I heard Cecy’s voice, scolding. “What did I tell you? You’re not in a city, Dahlia. You can’t be running your mouth—”

  “Are you saying you believe him and not me? I did not touch that man, Cecy. Chatty knocked me down and I reported it to the police. He must have lied so that I’d get arrested. Well, if he thinks that’s going to shut me up, then he picked the wrong girl.”

  I scratched Bob’s head. Mom and Cecy’s words made my face hot. Cecy can get her own stupid casserole, I thought. I grabbed the dirty end of Bob’s leash and we started walking. Soon we were back at the bottom of the hill near the gate with the NO TRESPASSING sign. The bunny’s pine needle nest was empty. I made a mental note to bring her some food.

  I stared past the sign, seeing my own footprints from earlier. If I had thought first before chasing after Bob, I would never have gone down there. Now, with night dripping over the trees, it looked even darker and creepier. I wondered what Mom would make of the lady I’d met and realized I hadn’t had a chance to tell her what had happened.

  A whisper-thin strand of smoke danced above the tree line. I gripped Bob’s leash tighter. If he took off again, I sure wasn’t going after him.

  I let Bob sniff the snow until I heard Cecy’s truck start up. Fortunately, she lived in the other direction. I tugged at Bob to go back.

  * * *

  Inside the house, Mom sat alone at the kitchen table, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. There was an unopened newspaper in front of her.

  “It wasn’t a mistake, was it?” I said.

  Mom jumped as though she hadn’t heard me come in. “Well, for your information, I didn’t do anything wrong. But thank you for your vote of confidence.” She opened the newspaper. “If you’re going to pick up where Cecy left off, don’t bother. I can find my own job.”

  “What happened at the police station?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She put the moon charm to her lips. “It was humiliating.”

  “Are you going to have to go to jail like the cop said?”

  The necklace dropped. “No, no. But I have to go to court on Monday.”

  I leaned forward. “I want to go, too.”

  “No, you start school on Monday.” She sighed. “Cecy will go with me.”

  Hearing the word school was enough to make my throat feel tight and itchy all over again. “What does Cecy know about court?”

  Mom tilted her head. “What do you know about court?” She waved her hand in the air. “They’re going to give me an attorney. A public defender. It’ll get cleared up.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  “Sometimes you have to have a little faith.” Mom leaned over the newspaper, squinting. “It explains why no one would take my application yesterday.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head. “This mess started at Frank’s Diner on Thursday.”

  “Your first day of work?”

  “And my last. The owner—that guy Cecy knows, Frank Chatty. Well, he shoved me.”

  “Why’d he do that?”

  “The restaurant was really busy and he was hopping-up-and-down mad that everything was moving too slowly … Customers were waiting to be seated, hungry people were complaining that the food was taking too long. When folks started walking out, Chatty went ballistic, screaming and stressing everyone out even worse.”

  “So?”

  “I was carrying out a rack of glasses and when I walked past him, I told him to cut it out.”

  “That’s it, you said cut it out and he shoved you?”

  The left side of Mom’s mouth curled in a smile. “I might have used other words.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How did that make you get arrested?”

  “You’re starting to sound like Cecy, you know that?” Mom sighed. “A waitress told me that it wasn’t the first time he’s shoved an employee. So, I did what the rest of the ladies who work at the diner should have done years ago. I marched straight to the police station and filed a complaint against him. I know a criminal assault when I see one.”


  “You went to the police because of a little shove?”

  Mom looked me straight in the eye. “It wasn’t little, Ruby. But even if it was, no one gets to put their hands on me. Ever. Not on you, either. Understand?”

  I nodded.

  She lifted her pants to show bruises on her shins. “He pushed me hard enough to make me fall backward. The dishwasher rack landed on me and some of the glasses broke.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I blinked them back. “But why did you get arrested?”

  “The police didn’t believe me—or didn’t want to.” Mom straightened her pants. “Frank Chatty told them I started everything … that I was the one who hit him. Also he had some big-shot witness talk to the police—the mayor or someone, who says he saw the whole thing and that it happened the way Chatty said it did.”

  “Did you show them your legs?”

  “They said they didn’t need to see them. I thought it was because they believed me.”

  “So it’s your word against his and the mayor’s?”

  “A couple waitresses saw what happened … and he’s done it before. Guess he’s got a short fuse.” Mom waved a hand in the air. “Once I get them to come forward, this will go away.”

  I looked at the floor.

  “I’m sorry, Ruby Moon. I know this isn’t the best way to start. I’m going to—” Her words seemed to catch in her throat. She pressed her necklace against her lips.

  I should have hugged her right then. I should have said, Of course everything’s going to be okay. But I knew it wasn’t. I knew that nothing would ever be right until we went home to Washington, DC, where Mom acted like a real mom and we were a real family.

  I got up from my chair and opened the door to my room.

  “Do you want some of Cecy’s casserole? It’s in the fridge,” she said.

  I shook my head as Bob pushed past me. I closed the door, put on my pajamas, and crawled under my comforter. Bob hopped up, almost knocking me off the air mattress. He turned around two times, then lay down.

  My clock read seven fifty. I dug my hand into Bob’s fur as he made his going-to-sleep grunty sounds. I stared out the window, scanning the sky for that missing moon, but the night stayed empty and black. I opened my eyes as wide as I could and let its darkness fill me.

  CHAPTER

  3

  It was still dark Monday morning as I sleepwalked into the passenger seat of Mom’s Ford Fiesta. Apparently, kids in Vermont had to get ready for school in the middle of the night. I was already late when we made the white-knuckled descent down our icy driveway.

  Last week, somewhere between the Woodrow Wilson and Vince Lombardi rest stops on our journey from Florida to Fortin, something happened to Mom’s Fiesta. The motor went from a quiet purr to an angry roar. Now it sounded as if we were traveling to school by rocket ship. Fortunately, the parking lot was clear of kids by the time we got there.

  “You don’t mind if I don’t go in?” Mom yelled. “I’m late to pick up Cecy. You know how she gets.”

  I wanted to point out that she hadn’t walked me into school once since DC, when she used to volunteer in my classroom. And I wanted to say, Of course I mind! Mothers are supposed to come in when their kids start a new school. Mothers aren’t supposed to be worried about being late for court. Instead, I grabbed my backpack.

  Mom leaned over to kiss my cheek but got mostly hair. “You’ll be great,” she whispered as I slipped out of the car.

  Even though my backpack was practically empty, it felt like it was filled with rocks. My shoulders sagged beneath its weight. When I reached the school’s entrance, I turned to wave, but Mom was already gone.

  * * *

  Ever since my first day of school in Avalon, I had learned a trick. If I acted silent and invisible, people actually stopped seeing me. It worked at every school I’d been to in the last two years. When I hid inside my hair and kept my mouth shut, kids stopped trying to talk to me, secretaries forgot to check if I was in class, and teachers didn’t call on me. Back at Winslow Intermediate, I skipped an entire week before anyone realized I wasn’t in school. By then, we were already packed for our next forever home.

  After I got buzzed in, I took a deep breath and opened the door to the main office. Inside, a student was waving his arms and talking to a secretary who sat behind a tall counter.

  “Bryce, we’ve been through this before,” the secretary said. “A missing iguana is not an excuse for being tardy.” The secretary’s steel-colored bun bobbed with each sharp word. I quickly ducked behind a large green plant before she saw me.

  “But it wasn’t my fault,” he said.

  “Next time it’s detention,” she said. “Here’s your hall pass.”

  The boy turned to leave. When he saw me, he opened his mouth, but at that moment a girl with dark braids and a bright orange coat entered. I motioned for her to go next. The boy left.

  I felt the peach pit growing in my throat, tight and scratchy.

  “Melanie, this is your third tardy this quarter,” the secretary said to the girl.

  I started to hug myself, but my elbow knocked the plant. It wobbled loudly.

  “Excuse me, young lady. What are you doing to my philodendron?” The secretary’s chin jutted up, her gray eyebrows forming an angry V. I straightened the plant before it fell.

  “You’re breaking it! Stop that!” She raised a hand as if she was a police officer.

  Orange-coat girl snatched her pass and scurried out.

  A dark-haired man wearing a green sweater-vest and a bright red tie emerged from a back office. “Mrs. Levine, can you distribute these?” Noticing me, he smiled. “Ah, you must be our new student. I’m Mr. Larkin. Welcome to Fortin Middle!” He gave a big wave before slipping into his office.

  “Oh. So you must be…” Mrs. Levine sifted through papers. “Here it is. Ruby Moon Hayes. Sixth grade.” She looked at me. “That’s an unusual middle name.”

  I stared at my feet.

  “Where are your parents?”

  Secretaries were always mad when Mom didn’t come in on the first day.

  I shrugged.

  “I’ll have Mr. Larkin call them.” She shook her head. “Have a seat. Someone will come for you.” She pointed at a wooden bench as she spoke into her headset.

  I hugged my backpack.

  A few minutes later, a skinny boy walked into the office. He had wavy, jet-black hair that needed a cut. His jeans were too big, and a tight belt made them bunch around his waist. He wore a white collared shirt like businessmen wear.

  Mrs. Levine smiled at the boy. “Ahmad, Ruby is new. Can you show her to Mr. Andrews’s homeroom?”

  Ahmad pushed up his thick black-framed glasses with his fist. “Please.” He motioned me to come with him. “We are in the same class.” He spoke with an accent. As we walked down a long hallway lined with red lockers, his shiny black shoes made a click, click sound.

  When we reached a room that said LANGUAGE ARTS, the boy opened the door. Every head turned.

  I peeked through my bangs to see Mr. Andrews standing at the front. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a ponytail that fell halfway down his back. He had a scruffy beard and a flannel shirt that hung loose over corduroys. My mom used to tease my dad for wearing corduroys. No one wears those anymore, she’d say.

  Ahmad took his seat.

  “Rumor had it we were getting a new student,” Mr. Andrews said as he took two large steps toward me. His pants made a swish, swish sound.

  He pumped my hand up and down like we were long-lost friends. I liked how his eyes crinkled at the corners as if he was smiling, even though his mouth stayed straight. I almost smiled back.

  “Class, let’s welcome Ruby Hayes,” he said. “Ruby, please take that seat next to Dakota Eton.” He pointed to an empty desk behind Ahmad and next to a girl with wavy blond hair and a sleek black athletic jacket.

  I moved toward the desk. Dakota stared at me with eyes so big she looked like someone had jumped out behind h
er and yelled Boo! The girl, Melanie, who had come into the office right after me, gave a quick smile. She was still wearing her orange coat.

  As I slipped into my seat, Dakota scooted her chair a few inches in the other direction as if I was invading her space. When I glanced at her, she flipped her hair back as if to say, What? I didn’t do anything.

  I was relieved Mr. Andrews didn’t make me talk.

  Until he did. “Ruby, tell us about yourself,” he said.

  I didn’t have to test my throat to know that no words were going to come out. I started to hug myself but my backpack pressed on my lap. I held my arms tight at my sides and lowered my chin, forcing shallow breaths into my lungs.

  Mr. Andrews waited.

  And waited.

  My heart pounded in my ears, but it wasn’t loud enough to block the snickering.

  “Ruby, where are you from?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dakota cover her mouth with both hands. She stared at me with her big, round eyes.

  My backpack made a thud as it fell to the floor. I wished I could climb inside.

  Mr. Andrews cleared his throat. “Okay, well, welcome, Ruby. We hope you like it here.” He pulled at his beard. “Now, class,” he said. “What I know you’ve been waiting for—it’s time to begin preparations for the Sixth-Grade Wax Museum!”

  Everyone erupted in cheers and whoops.

  Mr. Andrews adjusted his glasses and lifted a paper from his desk. “Looks like this year’s Wax Museum will be held on February 14.” He grinned. “Can someone explain to Ruby what the Wax Museum is?”

  Arms shot up.

  “Dakota?”

  Dakota took a deep breath. “You pick someone important and you, y’know, read about them and learn who they were married to and what they did and how they got to be famous and then we do”—she took a deep breath—“like, a wax museum where our parents and grandparents and everyone in town comes and you pretend you are that person and you have to stand really still like a statue until the spotlight touches you and then you have to come to life as that person.” Dakota inhaled, finishing with a giant smile as if this Wax Museum couldn’t come soon enough.