Ruby Unscripted (14 page)

After class, London comes alongside me as if we're friends. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

“No,” I say and think of Nick. “You?”

“I have a huge crush on Anthony Restiva. Do you know him?”

Her voice and movements are so smooth and feminine that I feel awkward just standing there, wondering how I should stand, what looks natural and also feels natural.

“I don't know anyone.”

“Come here, quick.” She threads her arm through mine and pulls me around the corner that overlooks the main courtyard. “You can't let him see us staring, but Anthony will be walking by in about ten seconds.”

“What does he look like?”

“You'll know it's him when you see him. He was my partner in seventh-grade ethnic dance, and I've had a crush on him ever since.”

As we lean on the railing over the sea of students who represent every stripe of liberal America, from rockers, revolutionaries, and Greenpeace types to jocks, future fraternity brothers, and tomorrow's CEOs, someone comes up beside me and leans out to see what we're looking at. I try ignoring him, thinking it's Super Jock, but then from the corner of my eye I recognize him.

Kaden.

“Uh, hi?” I say. Dang, this guy is incredibly attractive. He smells great too.

London leans forward to see who it is and smiles widely. “Well, hello, Kaden.”

“Hey, London,” he says with the same seriousness as usual. Then he says to me, “I was too hard on you the other night. Sorry. Here. Tell your family hello.” He hands me a flyer, and before I respond, he walks on, disappearing into the crowd of students.

“Uh,” I say.

London is smiling at me. “Nice. And you've been here, what, a week?”

“Who is he anyway?”

“One of the most mysterious guys on campus.”

“Why mysterious?”

“A lot of girls have a crush on Kaden. But for all we know, he has a long-distance girlfriend, he's secretly gay, or there's something psychotic about him. Kaden hasn't dated anyone that anyone knows about since he came here last year from somewhere—we don't even know that.”

“What else don't you know?”

London squeezes my arm and motions with her head. “There's Anthony, coming from the cafeteria. Blond,” she says.

I'm surprised at the guy such a beautiful girl would stare at from afar. He reminds me of a boy band singer, thin, smaller, and pretty average looking.

“Cute,” I say, but London is ignoring me as she watches without watching Anthony.

I look at the flyer in my hand. Film Group. Thursday Night. v p.m. The Underground.

London reads over my shoulder and says, “I think you need to go.”

chapter thirteen

Carson is watching TV with his feet on the coffee table and a giant sandwich on a plate resting on his lap. I'm so surprised to see him there that it takes me a moment to believe he's not an illusion. I stand in the doorway and stare.

“Want some?” he asks, pointing to the sandwich.

That's no illusion.

“I ate on the drive down and can't eat all of it.”

I open my mouth, but no words come out. What do I say to my brother, watching TV and eating a sandwich? That I'm furious at him for abandoning me?

I
am
angry at him for leaving us—me, Mac, Mom. But I also want to say that I miss him. I don't want to feel angry, don't want to make him guilty. I want us to go do something, maybe drive to the beach Frankie took me to and drink coffee as the sun goes down.

Carson and I have always fought a lot, but sometimes we have more fun with each other than with most anyone else. He's the only one who understands certain things, even if we don't really talk about them. We're not the type of brother and sister to sit and share our feelings. It's enough just to sit beside each other or go somewhere with the music loud. Or to have each other in the same house.

“What?” he asks, all Carson-irritated-like.

“I didn't even see your truck.”

“Probably 'cause I had to park blocks down the street.”

“I didn't know you were coming.”

“I didn't either. But Kate told Allen that you and Mom and Mac were upset that I'm staying with Dad and Tiffany. Oh, and your friendly voice mail.”

“You just didn't show up. That was pretty shocking. Suddenly you're living with Dad, after we all thought we'd be together.”

“This is a nice warm welcome,” he says and leans back on the couch.

I flop down beside him, suddenly angrier than I've been the whole time I've been missing him.

“Wanna go to the mall later?” he asks, and I catch a small smile on the corners of his lips.

This is Carson's apology, and my anger quickly dissipates.

“Well, yeah,” I say sarcastically, and then we both smile. “What about tomorrow after I work?”

“Austin and I are going to a Giants preseason thing in the morning.” He raises his eyebrows with a smile at that.

“So that's why you came down?”

“No, I came down because I missed you.” He grabs my head and starts rubbing it, and I fight him off.

I pick up the other half of his sandwich and take a bite.

“How's Dad?”

“Annoying.”

“Why?”

“Long story. He didn't want me to come down, let's just say that.”

“How's everyone else up there?”

“Fine, but you better call that little friend of yours.”

“Which one? Why?”

“Kate. She likes this senior from another school. It's some big secret.”

“Kate hasn't told me about any guy. She liked Derek or Chad last I heard.”

“That was days ago. It's all changed in Kate's world. Girls are so weird.”

“I'd better call her then.”

“Their parents went to some bluegrass festival in Oregon for the weekend. She's staying with that girl you don't like.”

“Meegan?”

“Yeah.”

“What the heck is going on?”

Meegan is the last person I like Kate around. Then I remember how Kate hasn't really been talking to me. I'd thought it was because I was too busy, that she was angry at me over it.

“Hey, how do you like the new school?” Carson asks with a smirk.

“Yeah, thanks a lot. Deserting me to the likes of Ro-day-o Drive or the OC. I think I saw a girl who was on
My Super Sweet
Sixteen
.”

“Really?”

“No, but it wouldn't surprise me.” I notice he's watching
The
Godfather
, and it's paused on the scene when Sonny gets rubbed out.

“You can handle it better than me. Now that you've been there, can you imagine me at that school? Mom told me it's larger than Shasta College.”

“It might be. But you might like it. They offer a lot of cool classes. Way more than Cows 101 at home.”

“Oh, so you're gonna diss your old school now that you're a big-city girl.”

I give him a look and take another bite of sandwich. “Why aren't you in school?”

He smiles. “Oh, I'm exploring colleges in the Bay Area.”

“Uh-huh. Well, it's about time you got here. Let's do something fun this weekend.”

“Yeah, sure. I should get on the road early Sunday though.”

My mouth is full of bread, lettuce, tomato, roast beef, and avocado. It keeps me from commenting on his departure. So this is how it's going to be now?

I nod toward the TV. “Haven't you seen this enough?”

“Never enough, never,” he says in a
Godfather
voice. “Mom says there's no satellite TV yet, so I brought a bunch of movies. It'll be classic movie weekend.”

“What kind of classics?” I ask and then remember the flyer for the film group tonight.

“
Planet of the Apes
,
The Birds
,
Spiderman 1
,” he says with a smile.

I pick up a pile of DVDs and hold up
The Shawshank
Redemption
,
Vertigo
, and
Simon Birch
.

Simon Birch
. “Did you hear about Little Tony Arnold?”

“Yeah,” my brother says solemnly. “Weird. Who'd ever guess? But it made me think of that movie, so I brought it for Mac—I think he's old enough.”

“You might cry again if we watch it,” I tease, but I know I'll cry if I watch it, just thinking of Little Tony dead and in some coffin at the funeral home. Or maybe he's already in the ground.

“Shut up.”

Mom calls from another room, “Don't say ‘shut up.'”

We laugh, and it's like normal again. For a few days anyway.

The clothes Frankie drops off aren't the usual hand-me-downs. Quite a few shirts, pants, and jackets still have the tags on them.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask in amazement. Except for a few items, they are exactly what I'd buy if I had the money.

“They would've gone to some charity, so why not to poor little Ruby?”

“I'm not finding that joke funny.”

“Oh, but you do. You know you do.”

Though he just barely comes in the door—he has an orthodontist appointment, though his teeth look perfect—Frankie says again how he loves our house. As in
loves
, like hyper, exciting, flamboyant loves. He wants the full tour next time—when he was here before, he was more focused on impressing the parents. Carson meets him a bit grudgingly. And then, like a whirlwind that comes and goes, Frankie is gone.

“Who was that?” Carson asks with a frown on his face.

“Frankie,” I say cheerily.

“Why are you hanging out with him?”

“I like him. And he brought me clothes.”

He's shaking his head. “Don't let being here change you.”

“What's that supposed to mean? I would've hung out with Frankie in Cottonwood.”

“Dad wouldn't let you.”

“Dad lets me do whatever I want.”

“Why would you want to hang out with a gay guy?”

“He was the first person to be nice to me. He's my only friend so far.” I stand with my hands on my hips, the boxes of clothing on the floor before me.

“Well, nice first friend.”

“He's been more fun than half my friends in Cottonwood.”

“What's wrong with Cottonwood suddenly?”

“What's your fear about being around a gay guy? He won't make a pass at you.”

Carson gets that super-angry quiet that means I've pushed too far.

“I'm going to look at my new clothes.”

“Yeah, go do that.”

“And by the way, every place we live ends up changing us.”

“Whatever.”

I know my brother will get over it quickly. He always does. I'll come down in an hour or so and we'll watch movies all night, maybe go to the mall as well.

The clothes, three boxes full, are amazing. I lay them out all over my room. Everything I try on fits me. It's like a fashion miracle.

This could be an answer to prayer, couldn't it? But I didn't end up praying about it after all. Mom might have. Or maybe God hears us without our even asking, reminding us that He's there.

Then why does He seem so far away lately?

My fault?

His fault?

Maybe He's not even there.

But my two most immediate needs are being met—friendship and clothing. Frankie, my new gay friend; London, my apparent friend in the making; and Frankie's boxes of clothing are definite miracles. They do say that God can use anyone and anything.

After a long night of movies, I wake up, and I'm crying. Moonlight streams through the balcony, which is what makes me know I was dreaming—the discovery of which is a relief, like thinking something bad has happened to someone and finding out it's not true. My pillow is damp from the tears.

But the dream wasn't bad or sad, not really.

Pulling the covers up to my chin, I picture the scene that's probably more memory than dream. We were driving in my dad's old Chevy. Mac wasn't born yet, or at least he wasn't there. Dad was driving, Carson and I were in the middle sharing a seat belt, and Mom was on the other side. We were driving somewhere far, because it felt like we'd been on the road forever. We went through a drive-thru and Dad was being goofy to the teller, who was laughing. Carson was saying, “Dad, don't. That's embarrassing.” Mom was laughing a little.