Chapter 11 #2
Ruby closes her backpack and heaves it onto her shoulder. Then she comes a few steps toward me. “Thanks. That really will help us out.”
I shrug, and, for the first time since I’ve been part of the events team meetings, we leave the room together.
“The plans are coming together, I think? For Halloween?”
She gives me a sideways glance. I’m as surprised as she is that I asked that. Why the hell aren’t I out of here?
“Yeah, it looks like it. But I don’t think I’ll sleep properly until it’s over—and been a success.”
“Why does it mean so much to you?”
She thinks a moment or two before she answers.
“I want to prove that I’m a good team leader.
That I’m up to the job. I had to fight to be taken seriously on the team, and then I had to fight not to let Elaine get me down.
” She glances apologetically at me. “I know you’re her friend, but she wasn’t a great leader.
I don’t want all the work and effort that I’ve put into the committee and everything I’m still doing to have been for nothing. ”
I mumble thoughtfully, and she looks inquiringly at me.
“I’m just wondering if I’m that passionate about anything.”
“Lacrosse?” she asks.
I give a vague shrug. “Maybe.”
We walk through the library, down the stairs, and outside, and for the first time, I really understand that the events that seem so pointless and annoying to me are an important part of other people’s lives.
“What’s the time, anyway?” Ruby asks suddenly.
I look at my watch. “Nearly four.”
She swears and starts running. “I’ll miss my bus!”
Her green backpack bobs on her back, and her brown hair whirls up as she sprints for the bus stop.
I walk over to the chauffeur waiting for me by our Rolls in the car park. All at once, asking my parents doesn’t seem like so much of a big deal.
Ruby
My phone buzzes as my parents, Ember, and I are sitting by the TV watching The Voice Kids . I fish it out of my pocket. The button to unlock it has been sticking for a while, and it feels like I have to press it a bit harder every day. Once it’s finally unlocked, I’m stunned.
An unknown number has texted me.
Scored the costumes for the poster. We can pick them up in London tomorrow. J.
“I can’t believe that girl’s only eight.” I hear Mum’s amazed voice in my ear.
“Why can’t you two sing?” Dad asks. “Then I could have sent you on a show like this.”
“Our talents lie elsewhere, Dad,” Ember replies.
“Oh, really? What can you do then?” A muffled sound makes me look up. Ember just threw a sofa cushion at Dad. He rumbles with laughter.
“My blog has over five hundred followers, Dad. I can sew, and I can show people that a person with a body like mine can wear whatever they want—that’s not nothing, is it?”
“You’ve topped five hundred?” I ask in surprise.
She nods curtly. We haven’t been speaking much since the argument. Ember’s still angry with me for refusing to take her to the next Maxton Hall party, and so I totally missed her passing that major milestone.
“That’s amazing. Well done,” I say. I don’t know why it sounds so forced, because it’s from the heart. Ember’s been working on her blog, Bellbird , for over a year. She puts so much work and love into it that she deserves to be successful.
“Thanks.” Ember turns her attention to the remote and starts fiddling with it.
“D’you reckon Ember could turn up with her sewing machine and audition?” Dad asks. “Or she could give a talk. It would be amazing if you told people the things you’ve explained to us—that ‘fat’ is just a descriptive word, with no value judgment, and that’s why people should use it!”
Ember snorts with laughter. “I don’t think that would work, Dad. It’s a singing show.”
“Oh. Right. Good point. How about Britain’s Got Talent ? If what you do isn’t talented, I don’t know what is. If necessary, we could invite your five hundred followers and sneak them into the audience. And then we can all cheer you on.”
“Totally!” I agree. “Go and audition with your designs. I’ll make banners and hand them out to all five hundred of them.”
Ember pulls a face. I stick my tongue out at her. Her eyes begin to sparkle, and a cautious grin spreads over her face. At that moment, I feel like everything’s OK again. We’ve made up without words, same as always. I feel my shoulders slump with relief.
Dad says something else, but at that moment, I’m distracted by the message on my screen.
I start to reply but delete it right away.
I don’t know how to respond. The idea of going up to London with James and spending a day with him outside the boundaries of Maxton Hall feels weird.
Weird but…exciting, the more I think about it. I type a few more words.
Suddenly, a cushion hits my face.
“Hey!” I shout.
“We hadn’t finished our conversation, Ruby,” my dad says, deadly serious. “Get involved.”
“No, Dad, I can’t sing, and no, I’m not auditioning for any show just so you can laugh at me.”
“Hmm,” he says, looking pensively at me while Mum gushes with delight. “Such a little girl with such a great voice!”
“There are other ways to win a talent show. If the sewing machine isn’t an option, you could learn juggling together.”
“If you’re so keen on the idea, then you can apply yourself,” I say dryly.
“You know what? Maybe I will,” Dad says, in mock defiance.
“And what would you do?” Mum asks absentmindedly, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“How about…”
Danny Jones, one of the jury members, presses his button, and his chair starts to revolve. Mum cheers, and Dad raises his arms euphorically.
Ember and I look at each other and laugh.
“Do we have anything going on tomorrow?” I ask, once the girl has left the stage and things have calmed down a bit.
Dad shakes his head. “No, why?”
“We’re planning a Halloween party at the moment and need costumes. One of the boys has come up with some, and he wants to know if we can pick them up in London tomorrow.”
“That’s a two-hour drive. Is this ominous boy going to drive, or will you go by train?” Mum asks.
I hold up a finger to tell her to wait a moment. Then I type my reply.
OK. How will we get to London? RB
I hope he’ll get that my initials are meant as a joke.
My chauffeur will pick you up about 10. OK? JMB
I snort and feel Ember’s inquiring eyes on me.
For a moment I consider googling James to find out what the “M” stands for, but I don’t. Googling him would also be crossing a line. I don’t want to know everything it says about him on the web. There are hundreds of rumors just at school. I could have a lifetime supply of James Beaufort gossip.
“Apparently, this boy has a chauffeur,” I reply belatedly.
“A chauffeur?” Ember exclaims. “So he’s one of the poshos then?”
“His family owns Beaufort’s.”
“You’re planning to drive to London with the Beaufort boy?” Dad asks. His tone is both surprised and suspicious.
I nod slowly. “Yes. We can borrow some clothes from their archive.”
Dad frowns. “And it’ll be…the two of you?”
“Come on, Angus,” Mum says. “Leave Ruby be.”
“What? If Ruby has a date, I want to know.”
I feel my face go red. “It’s not a date, Dad. It’s school stuff.”
He just growls. But Ember is staring at me wide-eyed. “That’s amazing.” She drops back onto the sofa and crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s so…Oh, wow. You don’t know what an opportunity this is, Ruby.”
“I’ll take photos for you,” I say placatingly, but Ember’s still staring hard at the TV.
“So, is it OK if I go?” I ask Mum. She seems the only sane person in this room.
“Of course,” she says at once, giving Dad a warning look when he opens his mouth again. “You’re old enough to decide for yourself who you want to do things with.”
Inexplicably, her words make my cheeks flush even redder. But without paying much attention, I type a reply:
OK.
Oh and I prefer Ben & Jerry’s to champagne. RJB.
P.S. If you add another initial, I’ll freak.
I hesitate a moment, wondering if I can really send that. James and I aren’t the kind of people to joke around by WhatsApp. Or are we?
See you tomorrow, Ruby.
No, I guess we’re not those kind of people.