The Sugar Mountain Snow Ball (11 page)

“Normally I would dismiss that line of reasoning,” Eleanor said as she began to draw, “but I have to admit, magic could be involved. Otherwise, how could we have accomplished everything we've done so far?”

“I know! It's like she bonked us on our heads with her wand and made our dreams come true.”

I took another bite and swallowed.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Ruby—look what I have.”

Eleanor dug into her jacket pocket and revealed our latest brainstorm: a pink and purple phone cover that she was modeling on her emergency cell phone.

“Wow, it's wicked cute! We'll sell a million.”

“I hope not,” she laughed. “Otherwise we'll have to expand and hire staff.”

I liked the sound of that: our very own company headquarters.

“By the way, I think I've saved up almost enough money to start ski lessons,” I told her. “I need to get really good so I can meet the Outers just like JB did. The Snow Ball's only forty-one days away.”

Eleanor didn't say anything, which was always her response when I talked about JB or the Snow Ball. I couldn't understand why she never seemed as excited for my dream as I was for hers, buying that expensive sewing machine. I was beginning to wonder if she was jealous of the idea of me hanging out with the Outers.

“I called Sugar Mountain yesterday to ask how much it would cost.”

Still no response as she continued to sketch.

I finished up the banana, then tossed the peel in the trash can.

“Anyway, the lady on the phone said they have this special package, called the Snow Bunny, where you get ski equipment, a private lesson, then a lift pass for the rest of the day, plus a hot chocolate in the lodge, which I can drink by the stone fireplace, just like my real mom did with my pop when they were in high school.”

Finally Eleanor looked up.

“How much is the Snow Bunny?”

“For kids under twelve, it's $129, which would still leave me with about fifty bucks left over.”

“Wait, Ruby, that doesn't make sense.”

“Come on, Eleanor,” I said. “Can't you at least be a little happy for me? I mean, it's not like we're going to stop being best friends once I get to know the Outers.”

“What are you talking about? I mean, your calculations don't make sense.”

She bent over and pulled a notebook from her backpack and flipped through the pages.

“You said $129? And you would only have fifty left? We've made more money than that. What happened to the rest of your profits?”

“Umm . . . I guess most of it went to bribing the twins with junk, like parts for their Clink 'n' Link collections, which I have to buy every time I drag them along to visit our customers, so they'll be quiet and behave.”

“But you couldn't have spent that much on Clink 'n' Links. Maybe I made a mistake in my accounting system?”

It was my job to collect our earnings from our customers whenever I dropped off new pieces, and Mim agreed to cash our checks and give us the money. But Eleanor was the one who counted it, recorded it, and then divided it between us down to the last penny.

She flipped to the back of her notebook and pointed at the top of the page.

“So far we've made a total of $540.96 after being in business about ten weeks. We spent $37.42 on various supplies, which leaves us with $251.77 each. I still have to save $268.23, excluding shipping, before I can purchase the Pluckarama online for $520. But Ruby, you should have been able to start your lessons weeks ago.”

“Well . . .”

“Well, what?”

“There's also this dress.”

“What dress?”

“A
gorgeous
dress, Eleanor! One that I saw in a catalog, which would be
so
perfect for the Snow Ball! It's pure white, which is the color everyone has to wear to look wintry, and it has these puffy princess sleeves, fake fur
all
along the hem, plus tiny clear buttons down the front, which, according to the catalog, ‘twinkle like stars at night under the lights!' And I want it
more than anything
. But it's really expensive, and if I spend my money now on ski lessons, I may not have enough left over for the dress.”

Eleanor sighed.

“If I only had my sewing machine . . . I could probably make one exactly like it.”

All of a sudden, Charlie and Henry ran over, hollering like they were being chased by a flock of wild turkeys.

“HEY! That kid was here!”

“What?” I jumped up and scanned the playground. “Where is he?”

“He ran away when we talked to him,” said Charlie as puffs of cold air circled his red cheeks.

“That same boy you saw last month?” asked Eleanor.

“We see him all the time,” said Henry.

“You do?” I crossed my arms. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because this time he got
really
close.”

“And when we asked his name,” Charlie said, “he ran off!”

“All right, calm down,” I said. “It's not a national emergency, but it
is
a little creepy. Was he wearing the big green jacket?”

“Yep, and a hat squishing his hair down,” added Henry.

“It's definitely that rich kid from the mansion. Were binoculars hanging from his neck?”

The boys looked at each other and shrugged, then ran off to chase a squirrel behind a tree.

“The weird thing is,” I said to Eleanor, “I haven't seen him outside in his yard for weeks. I wonder what he's up to, and why he keeps sneaking around like this.”

“He may be extremely introverted,” said Eleanor as she continued to sketch, “or suffer from a social anxiety disorder, or any number of phobias.”

“Are you kidding? How can anyone suffer from anything living in a million-dollar mansion?”

“Money doesn't buy happiness, Ruby,” she replied, without looking up. “In fact, money has very little to do with happiness other than covering the basic necessities for a reasonably comfortable existence.”

Honestly, I don't know where she gets these ideas.

“What are you talking about, Eleanor? Have you seen those Outers? Beautiful, rich, and happier than anyone on earth!”

A cloud passed over the sun, which was low in the sky.

“Who truly knows what an individual feels, or what makes him or her uniquely happy, other than that individual?”

Eleanor stopped drawing and turned her picture around for me to see: a pretty girl in a beautiful white gown.

“That's it!” I said. “The dress in the catalog. How did you do that?”

She smiled one of her extra-curly grins and closed the pad of paper.

“It's getting late, Ruby. You need to call on customers, and I need to crochet phone covers in case we get some orders.”

“Shoot, I forgot about my appointments.”

I jumped up and called the boys.

“Charlie, Henry, get back here—we gotta go!”

“Wait,” said Eleanor. “Don't forget the new phone-cover sample.”

Maybe Eleanor and I didn't always think about the world in the same way, but we sure made a great team.

“I'm telling you, these things are gonna sell like ice melt before a storm. Make as many as you can!”

17

A couple of weeks later, my stepmom arrived home early from the Slope Side Café. It was a Saturday, and she was in an extra good mood because they had sold out of the day's cookie supply by noon, and decided to give her the rest of the day off. Mim's secret recipe was getting more famous every day. Meanwhile, Pop was still on the road and, as far as I could tell, he had no plans to come home soon. I began to worry a little. Why did he need to work so much? It just didn't make sense. Every time I tried to bring it up, Mim changed the subject.

Lately, I had been fussing around the house, cleaning and decluttering even more because: 1) It made Mim really happy to have the extra help, which I never knew before because she had never asked; 2) it was a lot easier to keep track of all the stuff I used to misplace; and 3) I don't know why, but I really liked rechecking the clean area over and over again.

So there was Mim, glowing as brightly as the sunlight beaming through the front door.

“Everything looks so nice, Rosebud!” she said. “Why don't you call Eleanor and go have fun for the rest of the day? There's a bluebird sky and the sun feels warm. I bet even the mountains of sugary snow are melting a little.”

And that's when I knew I had to take my big chance and ski.

Even though there were just four weeks left until the Snow Ball, I still needed $16 more to purchase the Snow Bunny lesson and, at the same time, have enough money for the beautiful white gown in the catalog, which said to allow three whole weeks for delivery.

I ran through a checklist in my head: It was the weekend, so there was no school. Mim was home early, which meant I didn't have to watch the twins. It was a crystal-clear day. Yep, I was as ready as I was ever going to be. I decided I had to take the risk and splurge on the lesson—and hope that I'd make $16 within the next few days in order to purchase the dress in time.

“That's a good idea, Mim. I'll go by Eleanor's house and surprise her. And maybe Mr. B will invite me over for one of his delicious curry dinners tonight.”

I felt kinda bad about fibbing, but I didn't want Mim to know about the ski lesson—not yet. I wasn't sure she would understand.

“Oh, if you're going to stay for dinner, you have to bring something,” she said as she searched through the cabinets for gift ideas. “You can't arrive empty-handed. Now let me see what we've got . . .”

She paused and stared at the organized candy shelf.

“Well, doesn't this look delightfully neat. But how come nothing's been eaten? What are you kids having for snacks these days?”

I don't know why, but suddenly I felt a little guilty, like I might get in trouble, even though Mim hardly ever got mad about anything.

“Eleanor usually brings extra food for us to share down at the playground.”

“What extra food? We have plenty of stuff here. You shouldn't be eating Eleanor's snacks.”

“But she has special food that we don't have.”

“Like what?”

“B'nanas!” yelled Charlie from the couch.

My stepmother looked confused.

“What's so special about bananas?”

“It's not just bananas,” I said. “Like, sometimes Eleanor has dried mango, which is sweet and chewy, and also nuts, mostly cashews. I don't know what else, but interesting, healthy stuff like that.”

Mim's face changed. It was like she had been told something she didn't want to hear.

“That's awfully thoughtful of Eleanor,” she said quietly.

My stepmom and I could talk about practically anything. She would offer her warm smile and have a big hug ready, no matter how bad I felt, and she'd be ready with advice if I needed it. But somewhere deep inside of me, I knew I wasn't supposed to talk about this. Food.

“I feel better after eating Eleanor's snacks. Plus I'm hardly wheezing these days.”

“Really?”

I nodded. Mim sank down into a kitchen chair.

“Well,” she replied, “we already cut out soda. And I can certainly buy nuts.”

“And b'nanas,” Charlie yelled again.

Mim smiled.

“You're right. We need to plan our food better,” she said. “You're growing up so fast, Rosebud, and lately your dad and I are barely around to see it!” She reached for my hand and said, “I'm proud of you, Ruby LaRue.”

I wanted to tell Mim I was proud of her too, and that I knew it was exhausting to work so many hours and do practically everything by herself, but it feels funny to say that kind of thing to a grown-up. And I realized I didn't want to know why Pop had been away so long. I just wanted him to come home.

“Now run along and have fun at Eleanor's house, and tell her hello for me, and hello to her father too. Promise you'll call if you decide to stay for supper.”

“I promise!”

“And pick up some of that dried fruit as a little gift on your way, okay?”

She pulled a few dollars out of her pocket and stuffed them in my hand.

“Sure, Mim,” I said, and hugged her as hard as I could.

18

It was funny when I thought about it: I'd only been to Sugar Mountain Ski Resort two times in my life, both times when Pop had a weekend off and took me and the twins to visit Mim at the café. Like always, she was crazy busy and barely had time to sneak in a hello since the line was out the door.

Now it felt weird arriving there all by myself. I was painfully aware that my jacket and snow pants didn't match and that my pretty gloves knitted by Eleanor weren't real ski gloves, and I had never even thought about goggles. Maybe I could rent those too.

Everything was so confusing and noisy upstairs in the main part of the lodge. The floors were sopping wet and music pounded too loudly and a voice booming over a speaker was announcing the winners of a race. Normally I loved crowds and never missed a fair or festival in town, but this wasn't the same. It was hard to believe I was still in Paris; it felt like another world.

I finally got up the nerve to ask an Outer walking by (a young mom with a baby, who looked friendly enough) where I needed to go to rent skis. But she didn't answer me. Instead she pointed
up at a sign with the word
RENTALS
and an arrow pointing down toward the basement area.

“I'd like the Snow Bunny ski special,” I said to the guy behind the cash register who was standing below another sign that said
ENTER HERE
.

He leaned toward me and squinted.

“The
what
, dude?”

“Umm . . . I called on the phone a couple weeks ago? And someone told me I could rent everything? And get a first lesson and a ticket and a cup of hot chocolate for $129, because I'm under twelve?”