Spirits of Spring (The Haunting Ruby Series Book 4) (28 page)

Shelly noticed that I was only taking one item into the
dressing room and didn’t approve. “You need to at least try on
a few, Ruby. Even if you don’t particularly love something on
the hanger, it could look totally different once you get it on.
You go ahead and try that one on while I find you a few more
for comparison.”

My eyes were still partially rolled back in my head
when I came face to face with my reflection in the mirror. OMG.
Was that
really
how I looked every time I did that? It was the
freakiest sight I’d seen in a long time. And freaky sights were
pretty much the norm for me. I made a mental note to stop
rolling my eyes—at least where anyone else could see me
anyway—because it made me look
hideous
.

Once my
irises
were back where they belonged, I
stepped into the dress and took another look in the mirror. Not
bad.
It was slightly too big on me which helped me to not
completely hate it. It was strapless and full length with a slit up
the side—super sexy, assuming I wasn’t PMSing come prom
night.
The design was fairly simple—not a single sequin or
rhinestone in sight. I liked what I saw so I stepped out to get a
second opinion.

While Diane and
Rachel both thought that it was
perfect, Shelly gave a slight frown. “Why don’t you like it,
Shelly?”

“It isn’t that I don’t like the dress—it looks very good on
you. It’s the color that I don’t like. Red is becoming a little
cliché on you, don’t you think? You need to go with something
different this time around.
And I found the perfect one for
you!”

As soon as I saw the dress she wanted me to try on next,
instinctively my eyes rolled back. Yes, I’d just decided to
refrain from doing that but the dress she was proudly holding
up in front of me deserved a hideous look.
Not only was it
green, but the skirt portion was a poufy tulle material dotted
with
randomly
placed sequins.
The
bodice was
just as
terrible—dark green rhinestones ran from the waist to the
bust, fanning out in a thicker band of sparkle as it approached
the bust line.
It was practically identical to the one she found
online and tried to convince me to like. It didn’t happen then,
what made her think it was going to happen now?

“You have
got
to be kidding me! This is prom we’re
talking about here, not the casting call for The Little Mermaid
Part Two! I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing! I look awful
in
green—you
know that.”
Red was
my
signature color.
Always had been, always would be. Plus, it would help hide the
pig’s blood in case things went terribly wrong that night.

Shelly shook her head defiantly. “I know no such thing.
As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever even
seen
you in
green. Until today. Here, put this on.” She shoved the
offending dress toward me and manipulated the hanger so that
the stupid thing appeared to be dancing for me. If there’s one
thing worse than a green, sequined dress it’s a green, sequined
dress twerking in your face.

I snatched the hanger out of her hand to get her to stop.
“Fine. I’ll put the stupid dress on so that I can
prove
to you just
how awful I look in it.” The only complaint Shelly had from
today was cramps but she was clearly suffering a symptom as
yet unassociated with PMS—stupidity.

Stomping childishly back into the fitting room with the
mermaid costume in hand, I found myself already gloating at
the thought that I was about to prove her wrong. I peeled off
the red dress and hung it carefully on the hanger, being sure
not to damage my soon-to-be prom dress in any way. Then, I
snatched the green beast and threw it on haphazardly. It was
only going to be on my body long enough for me to prove my
point then it was going back on the rack where it belonged—
there was no use in trying to make it look good while on me
anyway.

Once I had it zipped, I opened the door with a
disgruntled look on my face.
What I expected to hear was a
chorus of voices proclaiming that I was right, that the dress
looked even more terrible on me than it did on the hanger. As
always, nothing ever went the way that I expected it to.

The first reaction came from Clay, who until now had
been silently sitting alone by the window. I watched horrified
as his jaw dropped and his eyes took on a puppy dog in love
kind of glow. “You look…
beautiful
, Ruby,” he said in words
barely above a whisper.

Oh, geez. I hadn’t even digested the fact that Clay
seemed completely enamored with the mermaid version of me
when everyone else chimed in.

“You were right, Shelly. That shade of green really
brings out her eyes—look at how sparkly they are!” Diane
began to pet the frothy bottom of the dress. “But I would say a
dress
like this
is
reserved for the
forest
queen
—not the
princess.”

Okay, so I had the opinions of one lovesick ghost and
two middle-aged women, none of whose opinions were what
really mattered here. Rachel would understand exactly how I
felt about the dress and agree that I looked terrible in it.
Desperately, I turned to her for backup.

“Well we already know that I’m crazy so I guess you
have your answer.
The red one it is.” I stomped back into the
dressing room in a huff.
Clearly, PMS also clouded judgment
and eyesight. I stripped the dress off and allowed it to lie in a
heap in the corner while I changed back into my own clothes.
“Forest queen, my ass,” I mumbled to myself. “It made me look
more like a sequined, seaweed-covered manatee.”

I emerged from the dressing room and handed Shelly
the green dress back. “Here. I made up my mind and I’m
sticking to it. I’m going with the red one.”

Shelly sighed and slung the dress over her arm. “I knew
you would but you can’t say I didn’t try. It’s really a shame.
That one wouldn’t have even needed any adjustments—it was
practically made to fit you.
Oh well.
Rachel made her final
decision, too. I’ll go find someone to take your measurements
for alterations.”

Rachel and I were asked to get back into the dresses we
chose so that they could see what needed altered.
We took
turns yelping as they jabbed into us with their straight pins,
tucking this and folding that. I asked that they take the dress in
as much as they could across the stomach area to compensate
for water retention and potato chip bloat. In my head, I roughly
counted the number of weeks until prom and PMS would be a
slim possibility that night. The next time I put this dress on, it
would fit me perfectly.

Once we were done and my mind was not preoccupied
with mermaids or manatees, my thoughts went back to Clay’s
reaction when he saw me in that dress. I glanced around the
store but found no sign of him anywhere. He wasn’t able to
stray far from my side these days so I knew that he was still
close by. The longer he was tied to me, the more his heart was
going to break. Finding Sophie needed to jump to the top of my
list of priorities. He still loved her—if he didn’t, he would be
able to talk about her. His feelings for me weren’t real—they
were just infatuation but he would never believe that until I
found his real true love.

He stayed suspiciously out of sight for the rest of the
day and I let him hide in peace. It couldn’t be easy to be in love
with
someone—or at least
think
you were in
love—with
someone who didn’t love you back. His emotions were far
more alive than he was. I had to find the piece that would finish
the puzzle of his life. Even with somewhat of a plan in place,
one thing still worried me. What would happen if he didn’t like
what the finished product looked like?

A weekend of semi-fun activities made returning to the
snake pit otherwise known as high school even more painful
come Monday morning. The only thing I had to look forward to
was a short week.
With Sunday being Easter, there was no
school on Friday. Zach and I decided to take that day to go on a
road trip to Ohio to check out the campus and hopefully get an
idea of where we would be living in the fall.
Since I had
something to look forward to, the week therefore had to suck
as much as it possibly could.

Mr. Raspatello forced me to spend time with Brooke to
plan out the bake sale.
This, of course, amounted to me sitting
there while she told me what we were going to do. Correction.
I sat there while she told
me
what to do. Words cannot explain
how badly I wanted to give her a piece of my mind. But I knew
that the more times I rocked the boat, the worse I would get
treated. So, I kept my mouth shut and mentally used Rachel’s
PMS driven idea—to sucker punch Brooke in the gut while
crying. The results were more gratifying than I anticipated.

The first track meet of the season had me more nervous
than a poltergeist in a roomful of priests. Even with Clay as my
secret weapon of motivation, I was afraid that I was going to
choke when my big moment arrived. It wasn’t the 100 meter
that I was worried about—if I lost at that event, I lost. But if I
screwed up the relay, well, there was no telling what Misty
would do to me in retaliation.

Saturday would be my first day back to work and oddly
enough, I was looking forward to it.
News of epic weirdness
spread through the school like wildfire but no one else in town
seemed to have heard about it.
I was able to drive through
town without constant finger pointing. When I ducked into the
grocery store for five minutes, no one threw holy water on me,
either. It wasn’t much, but I took it as a good sign. Good signs
were hard to come by—I had to dig for them, but they were
definitely still there.

I knew that it was going to be an up and down kind of
week but the way it all played out in the end was beyond my
scope of imagination.
Things
were pretty
normal until
Wednesday when I stopped at Roseman’s Floral Emporium on
the way back from practice. It was the last place I expected to
find anything out of the ordinary.

Clay
was
all too happy
to accompany
me to
his
grandmother’s flower shop once again. He was feeling a little
less sad about the last visit and was eager just to see her once
more.
The stop was only supposed to be a quick one—long
enough for me to discuss my corsage and boutonniere order for
prom.
When I discussed it with Shelly, she was excited to hear
that Mrs. Roseman would be interested in buying some of the
Heart of Scarlet roses growing at the mansion. She was willing
to donate several more dozen so that Clay’s grandmother could
make some extra money. Today, I was supposed to deliver that
news.
As it turned out, Mrs. Roseman had something even
more interesting to discuss with me.

Clay began whispering about the fact that she didn’t
remember my name, worried that her mind was slipping even
further. I discreetly turned my head and whispered back that it
was at least a good sign that she remembered me at all.
He
nodded in agreement, though clearly not convinced given the
expression on his face.

I turned my attention back to her and said, “I told you I
would be back—I’m a girl of my word. Scout’s Honor.” As soon
as I said those words, I realized that if she had any memory left
at all, she would instantly think about Clay. I was right.

Even though I had already answered that question for
her the last time we spoke, I pretended that I hadn’t. “No, I just
moved to town last summer.”

With an odd look on her face, she leaned forward over
the counter and peered directly into my eyes. “But you know
him now, don’t you?”

Her comment sent chills throughout my entire body.
How did she know? Did she overhear me talking to him the last
time we were in the shop? If she did, wouldn’t she have said
something that day—especially since she couldn’t be certain
that she
would ever see me again? I’d faced significantly
stronger opponents than her, but her comment unnerved me. I
stuttered back to her in response.

“N-no, I, I don’t know him. I moved to Charlotte’s Grove
in June.” As a practiced liar, I should have been able to manage
better than that. She caught me so far off guard that I panicked.
My ability to lie convincingly was fading quickly now that I was
able to tell the truth. While it was a sign of positive character
development, it did absolutely nothing for me at the moment.

“Are you sure about that?” she said with a smile.
“Because a little birdie told me otherwise.” She shook her
finger at me in a disapproving grandma kind of way, like she
could tell that I was lying to her. I could feel my palms starting
to sweat and face get hot. I picked a terrible time to try to stop
lying.

The sound of Clay gasping in shock at her words did
nothing to calm me down. He was supposed to be my invisible
support, not another source of anxiety in moments like this
one. If this was how he cracked under pressure, Thursday’s
track meet was going to be a total disaster.