A Little Friendly Advice (17 page)

I call Charlie as soon as I get home from school because I’m upset and I definitely don’t want to sit in my house alone. He answers the phone really quick, like he’s in the middle of something. But he tells me to come right over, which is exactly what I want to do.

I dump my school books onto my bed and pack up my sleepover stuff, my costume, and my camera into my book bag, just in case I end up at Beth’s later when they’re done pranking Katherine’s dad. But I doubt I will. Beth is obviously pissed at me for the birthday stuff and the lost scarf. And while Maria was cool about everything that went down in the library, she doesn’t seem to get what a big deal this all is to me. It’s like if it isn’t boy drama, it doesn’t register as being important in her brain. And I seriously can’t even handle Katherine and all her family issues because I’ve got more than enough of my own to worry about.

A big part of me just wants to stay over at Charlie’s house tonight and just forget about everyone else. I bet his dad would let me, too. He’s pretty unconventional, like the kind of parent who wouldn’t think boy-girl sleepovers are weird and inappropriate. I’d just have to say really nice things about his art. Or maybe he’d be working in his studio all night and have no clue I was even there. I’d stay up in Charlie’s bedroom and we’d make buttons and listen to music and he’d have to sneak downstairs and steal us snacks from the kitchen. And then we’d snuggle in the same bed together, spooning and kissing and fooling around all night long in between power naps. It’d be awesome.

Charlie lives across town, so riding my bike will be the quickest way to get there. My bike should be on the side of the house, where I last left it, but it’s missing. I check the garage and find it buried behind a waist-high pile of miscellaneous crap. Mom must have put it away for me.

A roar in the distance grows louder. I turn to face it and a bright flash burns my eyes. The headlights of a car bounce over the curb and up our bumpy driveway, but I’m too blinded to make out who it is. The car slowly rolls to a stop halfway up the gravel and the headlights flick off. I squint away the spots.

My mom comes into focus, dressed in jeans, a red cardigan, and her favorite brown boots. Her hair is in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, though most of the shorter pieces that frame her face have fallen out and flutter in the wind. She’s carrying two overstuffed grocery bags in her arms.

“Ruby, it’s too late for you to be riding your bike in those dark clothes.” She positions herself behind me and watches as I kick aside scraps of wood, a rake, and some dirty rags. Once I’ve chipped away most of the junk, I give a sharp tug on the handlebars, but the bike doesn’t move. A warped garden hose has snaked itself inside the spokes of the front wheel. “Honey. Just let me drive you over to Beth’s.”

“I’m not going to Beth’s,” I say. I kick an empty watering can and it sails into one of the windows, bouncing off instead of breaking it. Still, it’s pretty dramatic. “And what is all this crap you’ve buried my bike with? I mean, really. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use this thing,” I say, jabbing my finger at a partially inflated exercise ball.

Mom sets the groceries down on the concrete and crouches to help me liberate my bike from the tether. I step back and let her work, my arms folded across my chest, annoyed as hell.

“Where are you going then? I don’t want you messing around on Mischief Night, getting yourself into trouble.”

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s house,” I say.

“Ruby, I’ve only met this boy once, and he didn’t necessarily make the best impression on me. Anyhow, I thought you were sleeping over at Beth’s house. Is everything okay between you two?”

Why is she so suspicious of Charlie? He’s definitely the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. A big dark cloud rumbles up from my chest into my mouth. “Everything’s fine, Mom. Charlie found some info about Jim for me on the Internet. I think that’s more important than a stupid sleepover, don’t you?”

Mom doesn’t react, which is not at all surprising. Her focus is on untangling the hose from the spokes of my wheel. It’s proving more difficult than she thought. She pulls and tugs on the hose as hard as she can, and her face reddens with the effort.

“Charlie wants to go with me to see him. Over break. His parents already said yes.” Okay, that’s not at all true. But I bet Charlie would come with me to see Jim, if I asked him to. He’s that kind of guy.

Mom rocks backward and gives one last pull, as hard as she can. The slack in the hose goes taut and I watch as a kink works itself free from the spokes. Mom suddenly flies backward and falls on her butt with a thud. She stands up, her face all scrunched with pain, and dusts off her jeans. “Be home by ten, then.”

I might as well be talking to a brick wall. “All of a sudden you don’t care where I’m going?”

“You think just because you’re sixteen that you don’t have a curfew?”

“No, I think you’d rather talk about anything but Dad!”

She walks back over to the car and starts it. The headlights come back on and she waits patiently for me to ride out of the beams with my bike so she can park in the space I’m occupying. Her windows are rolled up tight.

This conversation is over. I pedal away as fast as I can.

Even if Charlie hadn’t told me what house number was his, I certainly could have guessed. His house is big and modern, with lots of tinted glass windows and exposed metal beams. It’s really beautiful and dramatic, but not very homey.

Charlie is waiting for me on the steps when I get there. He’s got a sheet over his head with two eye holes cut out. I wonder if this is his costume for tomorrow’s party. It doesn’t really go with my Girl Scout outfit, but it’s still really cute.

I set my bike down in the grass and fish my camera out from my bag. This is going to make the best picture. Totally frameable or locker-worthy. I walk up his steps, center him in a shot, and pull the trigger.

“Hi,” I say, and fan the picture.

He pulls the sheet over his head. “Boo,” he says in a soft, sad voice. And then he looks down at his sneakers. I run up to his side and give him a hug. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Come on,” he says, sniffing and smiling at the same time. “Let’s go inside. I’ve got something to tell you.”

“All right,” I say, even though I don’t want to. Even though I feel like I’m walking right into a trap.

The house looks just like two messy artistic boys live here alone. The place is covered in stuff, moving boxes unopened in big stacks against the wall. Take-out containers are everywhere and it smells like incense.

Charlie’s dad has some weird French record blasting on the stereo, and he’s drinking a huge glass of red wine. He does an awkward little shuffle around the dining room table, where one of his huge landscapes is spread out, as if his stiff body isn’t used to acting happy. He rolls the print up carefully and slides it into a cardboard tube. Like the one I put my map in when we moved.

I follow Charlie up the wooden stairs, passing by shelves full of twisted and gnarled metal sculptures that I guess are his mom’s work. His room is the messiest yet. I thought Charlie only made buttons, but there are paintings and prints and pieces of ripped-up fabric everywhere. He kicks the stuff aside, crashes down on his bed, and cradles his head in his hands.

He pats the bed next to him. But I don’t want to sit down. “What is it?”

“My dad’s been rehired at Carnegie-Mellon. They called him today to offer him that promotion he wanted. Turns out that the guy they hired over him was a total hack.”

“Oh, yeah?” I say almost too casually as I take off my peacoat. I lock my eyes on a weird, home-sewn stuffed animal atop Charlie’s pillow. He’s making a cute face right in my direction. I throw my coat over it.

Charlie raises his head and stares at me all weird, like I should be crying or something. “Yeah. Yeah, Ruby. We’re going to be moving back at the end of this semester.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?” There’s a part of me that can’t believe it. And then there’s a part of me that knew this was coming all along.

He shakes his head emphatically. “I didn’t say that.”

“Well, how are we going to date when you live in another state, Charlie? I don’t have a car and that’s kinda far for your BMX.”

His head falls into his hands. “I don’t know, okay? But we’ll figure something out.”

My throat nearly closes up with the size of the lump that settles there. This is exactly the kind of thing Beth had tried to warn me about. “I guess I’m going to go,” I say, and reach for my peacoat. I was stupid to take it off in the first place.

“Wait! Why?”

“Because, Charlie. I’m not going to keep on liking you or whatever if you’re just going to turn around and move somewhere else. That would be pretty stupid.”

“Ruby, I don’t get you. I said I’m not leaving for a few months. And you’re just going to end things now? I thought you really liked me.”

I don’t say anything to that, and Charlie gets mad. He grumbles under his breath and kicks the art supplies that are in reach of his feet.

But I’m already moving down the stairs, out the front door. I pick up my bike and ride to the only place I have left to go.

I get to Beth’s house and park my bike in her driveway. I don’t know why, but instead of just walking in the back door like I usually do, I go around to the front of the house and ring the bell like I’m a stranger. It’s probably because I’m not sure if I’m even welcome here.

Mrs. Miller and Martha race to the foyer. They were watching television in the main room. I can hear the laugh track from outside. The door opens and the two of them greet me with wry smiles.

“Is Beth upstairs?”

“Ruby! We were wondering where you were!”

“Is she upstairs?” I say again, this time in a whisper.

Mrs. Miller wrinkles up her face. “Yes, dear, of course. Go right on up.” Then she winks to lighten the formality. “Third door on the left, you know.”

I walk up the staircase slowly, stopping to look at all the family portraits hanging on the walls. The Millers are incredibly photogenic. And happy. I’m included in lots of the shots, when they let me tag along on a family trip or ski weekend. It’s obvious I don’t really belong, because I’ve been taller than everyone in Beth’s family since junior high, including her dad, but I look just as happy as they do. It makes my heart hurt.

The girls are whispering inside Beth’s room. I press my ear to the closed door, but I can’t make out anything but mumbles. Martha’s coming up the stairs after me, so I have to knock. There’s rustling and some suspicious sounds. Then I open the door. “Hi,” I say, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me.

Everyone’s surprised to see me. The girls are all dressed in black. Katherine’s gym bag is open on the bed, filled with cans of shaving cream.

“Hey, Ruby,” Maria says, nice and friendly. “You made it!”

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Beth groans.

“Yeah, well.” I take off my peacoat and toss my bag in the corner. “I changed my mind. Is that okay with you?”

“I said you could do whatever you want, remember?”

Katherine rubs a little moisturizer underneath her eyes. “Geez. What’s up with you two? I’m the one who’s supposed to be mad here.” She laughs, and I can tell she’s over the whole library incident. Or maybe she’s just more entertained by the fact that there’s something going on between me and Beth.

“Nothing’s up,” Beth says. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t think Ruby was planning to celebrate my birthday this year.” She walks over to her dresser and starts straightening piles of stuff that already look pretty neat to me. “You know how excited I was for this weekend. And it’s like you couldn’t care less about me now that you have a boyfriend.”

“I broke up with him,” I say. “Tonight.” I look down at my feet and get choked up, but I squeeze all the muscles in my face to try and hold it together.

“Oh.” Beth thinks for a second, then hands me a box of tissues.

Maria gasps. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t even matter,” I say through big wet sniffles.

“That sucks,” Katherine says softly.

Beth takes a deep, contemplative breath, the kind that always precede her lectures. I close my eyes and brace myself. But all she says, in the most quiet whisper, is “I’m sorry.”

Her words practically knock me over. Whether or not they mean what I hope they mean, they are what I need right now. I look into her eyes and apologize too.

Beth’s face goes soft. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, throwing her arms around me. “Seriously, not at all. I’m just glad you’re here and that everything’s cool between us. You know I hate when we fight!”

“Me too,” I say, and squeeze her back.

“Do you want to change into one of my black sweaters? You know, for stealth’s sake?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” I duck into her huge closet and go through all the sweaters folded on the shelves. There’s one fuzzy black angora cardigan that I love. It’s like wearing your favorite stuffed animal. When I pull that out from the stack, a few sweaters fall. I stoop over to pick them up and find myself eye-level with a shoe box on one of the lower shelves.

A really cute picture of me and Beth is pasted to the top of the box. We’ve both got bright red cheeks and we’re nestled together inside an igloo. I’m about to inspect it further when the door flings open.

“Let’s go! The original
Nightmare on Elm Street
with Johnny Depp starts at eight and I don’t want to miss it!” Beth gives me a weird look, seeing me on the floor.

I grab all the fallen sweaters in my hand and jump to my feet. “These fell.”

“No problem,” she says, taking them out of my hands and stuffing them back into place.

We sneak down the back staircase and hop into the Volvo. I volunteer to take the Period Seat as a testament to general goodwill. Katherine twirls the radio dial and stops on a band I don’t know, but the music has a crazy thumping bass guitar and I’m actually getting excited. Or at least I’m looking forward to a little mischief at someone else’s expense.

Katherine sits in shotgun and gives Maria directions to the gross apartment bungalows near the swampy lake. A few people have already been out pranking, because long dangles of TP flutter in the sky and a few cracked pumpkins splatter the street.

Katherine points out the windshield and Maria slows. Her father’s brown car is parked under a tree. We pull up a few feet away from it and kill the headlights.

The street is pretty quiet, except for a few people walking to the corner store up the street and two kids having an egg fight on a driveway.

“Okay. This is it!” Katherine squeals.

Beth passes out a can of shaving cream to each of us.

“Make sure you get all the windows and door handles. I want this thing to be totally undriveable.” Katherine shakes up her can and pulls her sweatshirt hood over her long blond hair. I’ve never seen her look so genuinely happy and excited. “Ready?”

We all nod.

Katherine shouts “Ready! Set!” but by “Go!” she’s already out of the car, leaving us to catch up. I take the driver’s-side door and smear a huge dollop of cream across it. Beth is on the back windshield, painting it with long back and forth strokes. Maria is on the opposite side of me, doing the same to the passenger side. Katherine drags her fingers through the cream, branding the front windshield with a bunch of curses.

Before I know it, I’m laughing, ’cause in a weird way, this actually feels like a release. Katherine’s dad
is
a jerk. He totally deserves this. I start to get really into it, pressing the nozzle down as hard as I can. I try to draw a hand giving the middle finger, but it looks stupid so I just make a bunch of big goofy loops with the foam.

After a minute or two, my can sputters empty. I haven’t covered as much of the car as I wanted, so I sweep my hand and spread out the cream until every inch of my panel is covered, at least a little bit.

“I’m all out!” Beth whispers.

“Me too,” says Maria.

I wipe my hands on some big leaves from the pile at my feet and then pull out my camera from my book bag and take a few shots. The car looks crazy, like a big marshmallow with wheels.

Katherine circles the car manically. She’s not satisfied. A group of four older guys I don’t recognize walk by us and snicker at our prank, like it’s kid stuff. One of them calls out that it’s past our curfew. That only seems to work Katherine up more.

“This isn’t good enough!” Katherine hisses, her eyes wide and darting around in desperation.

“Are you kidding?” Beth laughs. “He’s going to be so pissed!”

Suddenly Katherine takes off running toward one of the nearby bungalows. Somehow I don’t think her dad lives there, because it’s decorated for Halloween with cardboard gravestones on the lawn and spiderwebs on the railings, like a family would do. The rest of us gather at the back bumper, unsure of what to do next.

“What’s she doing?” Maria whispers.

“No clue,” I say, burying my face in the sleeve of my borrowed cardigan sweater. The air smells disgustingly musty and minty from all the shaving cream we’ve squirted.

“We should get out of here before we get spotted,” Beth says.

Katherine sprints up the bungalow stairs and grabs a huge pumpkin from the doorstep. It’s a bit of a struggle to get the thing up in her arms — it must be at least twenty pounds — but once she does, she runs back over to the car in a full sprint.

“No, Katherine!” Beth shouts.

But Katherine can’t hear us. She’s screaming at the top of her lungs like some kind of warrior. When she gets close to her dad’s car, she launches the pumpkin into the air. I try to steady my camera and time the shot right. It falls fast and crashes right down on the windshield, causing the glass to explode and pop into tiny glittering shards that reflect the streetlights.

“Oh my God!” Beth whispers.

Maria fumbles with her keys. “Geez, Katherine!”

Some people down the street turn and look our way. I hear shouting from behind us.

“Go, go, go!” Katherine leads the charge back to Maria’s Volvo, stealing the keys along the way. Even though I’m practically crapping my pants with fear, I hold my camera over my shoulder and snap two more pictures behind me, praying that I capture some of this madness. Katherine dives into the driver’s seat, and the rest of us cram into the back. No one is buckled up and my door is still open, but Katherine hits the gas so hard the engine roars. We speed off down the street and I fight to close the door against the wind of our escape.

The entire car is in silent shock, except for Katherine’s breathless giggling. She fumbles to light herself a cigarette. She’s not even looking at the road.

“Katherine, that was so not cool!” Maria shouts.

“Come on,” she says. “That was a little bit cool.”

“What the hell!” I say. “You could get us all in serious trouble!”

Beth doesn’t say anything. She just climbs over Maria and me into the front seat.

Katherine’s not at all fazed by my chastising. “How can you, of all people, not get it? Sometimes you gotta call people out or they’ll think they can walk all over you forever.”

And for the briefest, tiniest second, Beth’s eyes catch mine in the visor mirror.