Special Delivery (14 page)

“The turkey's dripping wet,” said the first boy. “It got sprayed with a hose.”

“It almost exploded.”

Hilary, feeling highly self-conscious, had said, “May I show you to a table? You're our first customers of the day. You can sit anywhere you want.”

The Caldwells chose a table by the window, and Hilary brought them their menus and filled their glasses with water. “You can order anything from the regular menu,” she said, “or you can have the special turkey dinner.”

“Turkey dinner!” exclaimed the boys in unison.

“Ditto,” said Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell.

“So,” Hilary said to Ruby, “guess who came in next.”

“Do I really have to guess? I'll probably get it wrong.”

“Okay. I'll tell you. Mrs. Grindle.”

“Oh, EW!” cried Ruby. “Why can't she stay at home and be crabby there? Why does she have to go out in public and ruin other people's holidays?”

“Well, she wasn't that bad,” replied Hilary. “Actually, I felt a little sorry for her.”

Mrs. Grindle had poked her head through the door and looked around the nearly empty diner for a few moments before apparently deciding to stay. Hilary had left the Caldwells and bustled across the room to show Mrs. Grindle to another one of the window tables.

“She ordered the turkey dinner, too,” Hilary reported. “And then she just sat and ate by herself.”

“Did anybody
not
order the turkey dinner today?” asked Ruby.

“A few people. And one of them was — you won't believe this.”

“Who? Who?”

“Okay. You know Miss Drew?”

“The second-grade teacher?”

“Yup.”

“She's Mae Sherman's teacher this year. She came to the diner? And she didn't eat turkey?”

“She came to the diner, all right, but she had turkey. It was the person she was with who ordered spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti! Who eats spaghetti on Thanksgiving?”

“Miss Drew's … boyfriend.”

Ruby let forth with a shriek. “Miss Drew has a boyfriend?! Wait until I tell Mae. What does he look like? Is he nice?”

Hilary filled Ruby in on the rest of the day's events, although nothing quite lived up to the boyfriend news. “So,” she finally said, “how was the concert? You didn't tell me.”

“Oh …” Ruby considered lying, but knew she would be caught eventually, so she settled on replying, “It was all right. You know how those things are.”

Hilary had no idea how the concerts were since she hadn't been to one yet, but all she said was, “Tell me about your trip tomorrow.”

So Ruby did, and as Hilary listened to the details of the train ride and the sights Ruby was sure to see, she decided that this had been the most interesting Thanksgiving of her life.

Ruby awoke in a great big hurry the next morning. Images of New York and the trip were flashing through her brain as swiftly as the train she would soon be riding. She thought of the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. Ruby had seen ads for it since the end of September and had begged Min to get tickets, but none were available. It was sold out. Min had been able, however, to get tickets to a new musical called
Spotlight
, and Ruby was thrilled with this turn of events. She had heard the music from
Spotlight
, even though the show didn't have any roles for children in it. Ordinarily, Ruby was interested only in shows in which she might play a part:
The Wizard of Oz, The Sound of Music, Annie
. But she very much liked the music from
Spotlight
, especially the song about the tap dancer.

Ruby lay in her bed, humming and thinking. The show would be the highlight of the trip, of course. But then there were the restaurants. Ruby hoped to sample some exotic food. Italian, maybe, or French. Perhaps she could try snails, although she had a strong sense that she wouldn't like them. She had once heard someone describe them as buttered rubber, which was highly unappealing.

“Shopping,” said Ruby out loud, counting off activities on her fingers as she lay in her bed. “Statue of Liberty. Empire State Building. Central Park.”

The phone rang.

Ruby leaped out of bed, sprang across her room, and flung open her door just in time to hear Min, who was standing in the front hall at the bottom of the stairs, say, “Ms. Angelo? Yes, this is Mindy Read.”

Ruby stopped short. This couldn't be good. She took a step forward, then, glad she was barefoot, stood silently, and listened. There wasn't much to hear, mostly a lot of dead air on Min's end. The choral director was doing all the talking. A very bad sign.

At last, Ruby heard Min say, “Yes, of course I'll speak with her. I agree wholeheartedly…. It
is
a problem. It's been a problem in school, too.” (Inwardly, Ruby groaned.) A few moments later, Min said, “For how long? … Several months? What about the Christmas concert? … Well, I know she'll be disappointed, but I understand your decision.”

At these words, Ruby felt herself grow cold. Not shivery cold, but ner vous cold. She considered creeping back into her bed but recalled that she had promised Min she would be up at eight that morning and ready to leave for the train station by nine. This was not the time to appear lazy. She had a feeling that a talk about responsibility was at hand.

Ruby decided to pretend nothing was wrong. She gathered herself together and trotted down the stairs. “Good morning!” she chirped. “It's eight-oh-five and I'm out of bed, just like I promised. See how I can keep my — Min, is something wrong?”

Min eyed Ruby darkly. “That was Ms. Angelo on the phone.”

“Lovely Ms. Angelo,” said Ruby. “She's the best choral director I've ever worked with.” (She was only the second choral director Ruby had worked with.)

“I'm glad you think so. Do you trust her judgment, Ruby?”

“Um …”

“Because Ms. Angelo had a few things to say about your performance yesterday.”

“She did?”

“As you can imagine, she was disappointed.”

Ruby slumped into an armchair. “How disappointed?”

“Very.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“You're on probation.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, in this case, it means that Ms. Angelo is going to be watching you carefully over the next few months. She's going to pay close attention to you during rehearsals. If she's satisfied with what she sees, then you may remain in the chorus. But if your attitude doesn't improve, she will ask you to leave. Also, until she makes her decision, you will not be singing any solos.”

“But I have the main solo in the Christmas concert!” cried Ruby. “Min, this isn't fair! Just because I made one little mistake.” She paused. “And what's wrong with my attitude?”

“Ruby, it wasn't a little mistake. It was a big one. But more important, you wouldn't have made it if you had attended rehearsals and had done all your practicing. And that's what's wrong with your attitude. You've become a bit … cocky. We've had this talk before, where your schoolwork is concerned.”

“I only missed one rehearsal! One teeny rehearsal.”

“No, you missed two. And the second one was the last rehearsal before the concert. You could have attended it, but you decided you were tired and that you knew your part anyway. I think you felt that you didn't really need to go to the rehearsal.”

“But, Min, everyone makes mistakes. You say that yourself all the time.”

“That's true. But it's one thing to make a mistake when you're trying your hardest —”

“I was trying my hardest!”

“I don't think so, honey. If you were trying your hardest, you would have gone to the rehearsal.”

Ruby let out an exasperated sigh. “I wasn't the only one making mistakes. Germaine was saying ‘No Peeking' instead of ‘Topeka.' And the altos were flat.”

“Ruby, I'm not going to argue with you. You haven't been taking chorus seriously this fall, you haven't been practicing at home, and you made a huge mistake during the recital yesterday. Ms. Angelo has every right to put you on probation.”

“But what about my Christmas solo?” Ruby wailed.

“I don't know. I suppose someone else will sing it.”

“Lacey,” said Ruby venomously. “Lacey will get the solo.”

“Well, I hope she works hard on it.”

“She will.” Ruby slumped in the chair until she could slump no farther.

Min looked at her seriously for several moments. “You have told me many times that you want to become a professional performer one day.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Ruby. “I do.”

“Then you need to start acting like a professional.” Min heaved herself up from the couch. She looked at her watch. “Come have breakfast now, Ruby. We should leave in forty-five minutes. Are you all packed?”

“Yes,” said Ruby, who would have said yes even if she weren't packed.

“Good. I defrosted some sticky buns this morning. And I'll make scrambled eggs.”

“Fine.” Ruby slid sulkily into her seat at the table.

Flora was already in the kitchen, eating a bun and consulting a list. “Min,” she said, “this is my packing list. Everything on it is in my suitcase.” She handed the list to her grandmother. “Do you think I've forgotten anything?”

“Show-off,” muttered Ruby.

“What?” said Flora.

“Nothing.”

Min eyed Ruby. “I hope it was nothing.” She took the list from Flora. “This looks fine, honey. I'm glad you remembered something nice for tomorrow night.”

Ruby, reaching for a glass of juice, paused, hand in midair. Something nice for tomorrow night. For …? Oh, for the theatre. Min had told her and Flora to make sure to pack one fancy outfit, and Ruby had forgotten. She finished her juice, took three bites of a sticky bun, told Min she was too excited to eat eggs, and ran to her bedroom, where she pulled a dress out of her closet and stuffed it into her suitcase. She was about to zip the suitcase closed when she realized that unless she wanted to wear the dress with sneakers she would also need to pack her good shoes. She was just stuffing them in as well when Min called up the stairs, “Ready, Ruby?”

“Yup!” said Ruby, who now was not at all sure she was ready. What else had Min told her and Flora to pack? She pawed frantically through her suitcase. Pajamas, underwear, hairbrush … she was already wearing jeans (the good pair with no holes in the knees) and her sneakers. Money! She must remember to bring along her money so she could buy her friends very cool Christmas gifts from New York City. Her friends, she thought, no longer included Lacey. She planned to buy Lacey a big fat nothing for Christmas.

Ruby took one last look in her suitcase, threw in an additional T-shirt, just in case, and then two of her china animals, which she wrapped in a pair of socks, and zipped the case shut.

“There,” she said.

She lugged the suitcase down the stairs. Min and Flora were waiting in the front hall with their suitcases.

“Oh, no,” Ruby moaned suddenly. “Now we have to say good-bye to King Comma and Daisy Dear. King has never stayed by himself here in the Row Houses.”

“Yes, he has,” said Flora.

Ruby shook her head. “No, he hasn't. Not overnight.”

“King and Daisy will be in Rudy Pennington's good hands,” said Min.

“Yeah,” said Flora. “They love him. They'll be fine.”

“I guess.” Ruby swept King Comma into her arms and kissed the top of his head. “You behave,” she told him. “Be nice to Mr. Pennington. And no scaring Daisy, okay?” King Comma had taken to hiding under Ruby's bed and darting out at Daisy as she walked by, which always made Daisy jump and then look at Ruby or Flora or Min with great wounded eyes.

“All right. Let's get a move on,” said Min. “Our train leaves in forty-five minutes.”

Ruby tried hard to enjoy the start of her vacation, but visions of Ms. Angelo and Lacey — Lacey angelically singing the Christmas solo — kept creeping into her mind. As Min drove slowly along Aiken Avenue and their car passed the Morrises' house, Ruby rolled down her window and stuck her fist outside.

“What are you doing?” asked Flora.

Ruby hastily withdrew her hand. “Nothing.”

Min glanced at Ruby in the rearview mirror. “It sort of looked like you were giving someone the thumbs-down sign. I'd hate to think that was true.”

Ruby said nothing.

Min turned a corner and then another corner and steered the car along Main Street.

“Look!” cried Flora. “There's Mr. Freedly. He's putting up the Christmas decorations. Can you believe a whole year has gone by since we saw him do that the first time?”

Now Ruby did manage to forget about Ms. Angelo and the chorus. She gazed at Main Street as it began its annual transformation. “The decorations are different this year,” she remarked. “Mr. Freedly is putting bells on every lamppost.”