I nod, feeling smug. “That he did.”
Cami looks impressed. “What did you do? Save the human species from going extinct?”
I giggle. “No. Just a little script rewriting. No biggie.”
“Nicely done,” Cami commends me, and then scurries off set.
As Gina comes over to fluff my hair, I’m feeling pretty darn proud of myself. I’m already acing this day and it’s barely even started. I knew I was cut out for this life. I just knew it.
“Places, please!” Russ calls out over a loudspeaker.
Just then, Ryder Vance strolls onto the set and slides into the booth across from me. Suddenly, all my confidence seems to melt into a gooey puddle by my feet.
He flicks his chin in a casual little nod and says, “What’s up, Rubes?”
I want to reach across the table and touch his beautiful perfect hair, but I command myself to get it together. Play it cool.
You are not Skylar anymore. You are Ruby Rivera.
I try to imitate his informal nod, but it feels more like my face is twitching. “What’s up yourself?”
He flashes me a teasing grin. “Do you think you can kiss me today without fainting?”
No! I think with a silent shriek. But I force myself to shrug and say, “I’ll give it a try.”
A moment later, someone walks on set carrying two juicy giant cheeseburgers on plates and sets them down in front of us. My stomach growls in appreciation. I am so hungry and that looks so delicious! It’s the most amazing burger I’ve ever seen. It looks like it belongs in a commercial. The bun is perfectly toasted and covered in sesame seeds. The lettuce is green and crisp, the tomato a flawless shade of red. The cheese curves effortlessly around the edge of the patty. It almost doesn’t even look real.
I give the burger a small poke, confirming that it is, in fact, real and not a prop, and let out a sigh of happiness. Finally, some real food.
I quickly review the scene in my head. It’s mostly Miles talking while I comically stuff my face with burger and say things like “Mmm-hmm,” “Mmm?” and “Mmmm…this is so good.”
I giggled when I read that part in the script. Ruby is always stuffing her face on the show. It’s a running joke. Miles will be trying to have a serious conversation with her and her mouth will be full of French fries or s’mores or cupcake.
“Are you ready?” Russ asks.
I glance down at the giant cheeseburger in front of me. “More than ever!”
Russ shoots me a funny look but doesn’t reply. He just backs away and yells, “Quiet on set!”
Miles leans forward, ready to say his first line to me. I pick up the burger, inhaling its deliciousness, and prepare myself to take a bite.
Life doesn’t get much better than this, does it?
“And, action!”
I arrive late to Skylar’s Language Arts class. Mostly because I don’t have the faintest clue where it is. When I finally burst through the door, I’m so relieved to have found it, I collapse into the only empty seat, failing to notice that pretty much everyone is staring at me, including the teacher, a short, frumpy man whose clothes are so wrinkled, it looks like he slept in them last night. He clears his throat and says, “Skylar, how nice of you to join us. I assume you’re late because you were working so hard on your oral presentation that you lost track of time?”
The oral presentation! That’s right!
I got so sidetracked with locker doors and cute boys and Irvine Barbie that I nearly forgot. I jump up from my seat. “Absolutely. I’m ready.”
He gestures toward the front of the room and I stroll confidently down the aisle between desks, taking my place before the students. They all watch me with expectant gazes, probably searching for signs of nerves and jitters. But not me. I’ve performed in sold-out stadiums in Japan. I’ve presented awards in front of an auditorium full of A-list celebrities. This—a room full of half-awake twelve-year-olds—this is nothing.
I flash a bright smile to the class and then to the teacher, whose arms are folded across his chest like he’s just waiting for me to mess up.
Maybe Skylar messes up. Maybe Skylar gets up here and stammers and fidgets and hiccups. But I’m not Skylar. I’m Ruby Rivera. And I’ve got this in the bag.
I clear my throat, lower my voice to a deep register, and begin in a smooth farmer’s accent, “ ‘I was only foolin’, George. I don’t want no ketchup. I wouldn’t eat no ketchup if it was right here beside me.’ ” I return to my normal voice and continue, “That was a quote from Lennie, one of the two protagonists from Of Mice and Men. Because of Lennie’s simpleminded condition, he’s not able to take care of George, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be a good friend to George. And the way Lennie views friendship is through ketchup. Does that make him any less of a friend to George than George is to him? That’s the question I’m going to explore in my presentation.”
For the next five minutes, I speak passionately about the book, about the characters, and about the author, John Steinbeck. I even compare this novel to the rest of his body of work. The class is like putty in my hands. They lean forward, mouths agape, eyes wide, drinking in every word. And it fuels me. My passion for the book fuels me. Being in this building of learning fuels me.
This is not a script I’ve memorized. This is not a cheesy line from an episode of Ruby of the Lamp. This is my heart speaking. I just talk and they listen.
“So, in conclusion,” I say, “we do what we can for those we care about. We bring to the friendship whatever we are capable of bringing. We help each other. No matter what. No matter the price. No matter how much ketchup it might cost us. Thank you.”
The classroom erupts in applause and I take a little bow. I turn to the teacher, but he’s just standing there, his hand frozen against the side of his face. He’s staring at me as though he can’t believe what he just heard.
And that’s when I know that I’ve done my job for the day.
Just like Lennie helps George and vice versa, I’ve helped Skylar. There’s no way she’s not passing this class.
I just hope she’s doing the same for me.
So apparently, you don’t actually eat when you’re acting. You take bites, you chew, you talk with your mouth full so it looks real, and then after someone yells “Cut!” you spit the half-chewed food into a bucket by your feet, which is hidden from the camera.
At least, that’s what Ruby does when she’s acting.
I didn’t even notice the bucket when I sat down because it was concealed under the bench. But now it’s filled with disgusting lumps of half-chewed cheeseburger.
So gross.
Every time Barry calls “Action!” I’m supposed to glance down at the big juicy cheeseburger in front of me, sigh about how hungry I am, take a huge bite, chew, and spit it out before I can swallow it. Then someone arrives with another delicious, untouched cheeseburger and we do it all again.
It’s such a tease!
By the time the scene is finished, I’m so hungry from almost swallowing I feel like my stomach is caving in on itself.
There’s also a giant food table set up on the soundstage, with chips and cookies and doughnuts and little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. But I’m not allowed to have any of that, either. Instead, between scenes, I have to watch as the crew gathers around the table and stuffs their faces while I munch on a bag of celery Eva gave me.
I continue to remind myself that this is fine. I’m fine. It’s a small price to pay to be Ruby Rivera. And so far, I’m proving to be really good at it. After the diner scene, we moved on to a scene in Ruby’s dorm room, where I’m supposed to break down and cry about how frustrated I am that I can’t find a single lead about my mother.
And I nail it! I even get real tears to come! I don’t know how I do it. I just say the lines, I think about how frustrated I a
m that Ruby’s mother hasn’t yet been found, and the tears start flowing. It’s the most amazing experience. It’s like I just become Ruby. Not Ruby Rivera. But Ruby of the Lamp. The character. The person I’ve spent the past four years laughing and crying with. Once I found her inside me, the emotions just come easy.
When Barry yells “Cut!” I can tell he looks impressed. Everyone looks impressed. And a little surprised, too. Like they weren’t expecting me to do it that well. As I wipe my eyes, I glance over to the bank of monitors and see Eva giving me a beaming, proud smile.
By the time we break for lunch at one o’clock, almost everyone on set has come up to me to tell me how well I’m doing. Not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty dang good at this. Who cares if I’m starving! I saved the show from embarrassing plot holes and I rocked one of the biggest emotional scenes of the season. I mean, it’s almost like I’m better at being Ruby than, well…Ruby! Which I guess shouldn’t surprise me after hearing her complain so much about her life. She has no idea how good she has it.
Lunch smells amazing. It’s being catered by a local taqueria, and the snack table transforms into a scrumptious buffet filled with platters of cheesy enchiladas, fajita meat, steaming-hot churros, and even a make-your-own-nachos bar!
I run for the stack of plates and grab one, ready to cover every square inch of it with greasy Mexican food. But the moment I reach for the serving spoon on the enchiladas, Eva steps between me and the table with a stern look on her face. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I look between her and the food. “Eating lunch?”
She sighs, grabs the empty plate from my hand, and hands me a Tupperware. “Here’s your lunch.”
“Oh,” I say, slightly disappointed. “Right. Thanks.”
I suppose it makes sense that I would get a special meal. I am the star of the show and everything. I open the Tupperware to find a single grilled chicken breast, a hard-boiled egg, and three apple slices.
My shoulders slump.
“WHAT IS THAT?” Eva screeches, causing me to jump. When I look up, she’s glaring at my Tupperware as though I’ve opened it to reveal live worms.
I feel a bit of relief at her reaction. I knew there must be some mistake. It’s clearly missing something.
“I told Stan at Craft Services no more fruit. Especially not after those measurements this morning.” Eva grabs the apple slices right out of the Tupperware and tosses them in the nearest trash can.
The comment stings. And once again, I want to say something. Not for myself, but for Ruby. I don’t know why Eva insists that Ruby is in any way less than beautiful. Her body looked terrific to me in the mirror this morning. But then I see the look on Eva’s face as she stalks back from the trash can and I lose my nerve.
I carry my Tupperware outside the soundstage, where the entire cast and crew are seated at long tables, chowing down on their Mexican food.
I find an empty seat across from Ryder and slide in, my stomach still doing a little lurch just from the sight of him. The novelty of being this close to him still hasn’t worn off. I don’t think it ever will. I mean, he’s Ryder Vance, for crying out loud! And I’m about to have lunch with him!
Ryder looks surprised to see me, one eyebrow arching. “Look who decided to eat out here with the rest of us mere mortals.”
“What?” I ask, confused by the sarcasm in his tone.
“You never eat with us,” he says. “You always eat in your trailer.”
“She does?” I ask, and then quickly correct myself. “I mean, I do?”
Ryder scoffs. “Whatever.”
Well, no wonder she complains about having no friends. She needs to get out of her trailer and talk to people!
“Hey, Ruby,” Ryder says, and I look up just in time to watch as Ryder takes a giant, messy, gooey, cheesy bite of his hot sauce–drenched burrito. Red sauce dribbles down his chin as he chews slowly, murmuring “Mmmm” over and over, like he’s doing a food commercial. “This is so good,” he says with his mouth full, so it actually sounds more like “Thuh ih so gooh.”
Is he teasing me?
Is he making fun of the fact that he gets to eat that and I have to eat this?
I glance down at my plate of chicken breast, cut off a small piece, and pop it in my mouth. Ugh. What is wrong with this chicken? It tastes like someone ran it through the deflavorizer. It needs some serious seasoning. Like some garlic, and cumin, maybe a little coriander. I grab for the saltshaker on the table and start dumping it onto the chicken by the boatload.
Ryder raises an eyebrow at me. “You sure you want to do that? Salt makes you look bloated, remember?”
Okay, now I know he’s teasing me. Because no one would tell Ruby Rivera she looks bloated. This must be what Ryder and Ruby do. Tease each other. Ruby did say that Ryder felt like a brother to her.
I roll my eyes. “You’re so hilarious.”
He stares at me with an odd expression. “And you’re acting weird.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling the screen.
I cut off another piece of chicken and rub it around in the grains of salt on my plate. “What are you doing?” I ask Ryder, trying to sound conversational.
He doesn’t look up from the screen. “Just checking to see how my twelve million followers are doing.”
The way he pronounces “twelve million,” he sounds like a game show host comparing scores at the end of a bonus round.
“Wow, twelve million,” I say, honestly impressed. Ruby only has eleven million.
He flashes me a goading grin as he sucks hot sauce off one of his fingers with a sluuuurp! “That’s right. Twelve million. How are your eleven million doing?”
I stare at him in disbelief. He’s totally putting Ruby down. Just because he has an extra million followers? Pshh. She’s the star of the show. He’s just her sidekick. But his comment does remind me of the idea I had earlier.
I turn on Ruby’s phone, turn the camera to video selfie mode, and press record. Holding the phone out in front of me, I smile, wave, and in my best Ruby voice say, “Hi, everyone! I want to give a shout-out to one of my biggest fans, Leah Perini, in Amherst, Massachusetts. Hi, Leah! I’ve seen some of the awesome comments you’ve left and I wanted to say thanks for watching! Bye!”
I press stop on the recording and post the video to Ruby’s feed. That should make Leah’s entire year. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I could hear her scream all the way from Massachusetts.
As I continue to choke down bites of chicken, I scroll through the rest of Ruby’s feed and notice a new picture has been posted this morning. I click on it, immediately recognizing it as the one Eva snapped after I had my hair and makeup done. She must have posted it shortly after.
Does Eva post all of Ruby’s pictures?
I feel a small twinge of disappointment. I always thought it was Ruby writing those cute captions on the photos, but maybe it was her mother all this time. I suppose that makes sense, though. Ruby is really busy being Ruby. She has lines to memorize, scenes to shoot, albums to record, red carpets to walk. She probably doesn’t have time to manage social media on top of all that.
I scroll through some of the comments people have left on the new picture.
SO ADORABLE!
Ruby, you’re the cutest!
Can’t wait for the new episode!
When are you and Ryder going to get together???
I glance up at Ryder, who’s shoveling the last of his burrito into his mouth while his eyes are glued to his screen. He washes the bite down with soda and then lets out a large burp that rivals even the sound I made onstage the other day.
“Ten minutes,” comes a voice, and I glance up to see Russ standing next to our table holding his clipboard. “Scene twenty is up in ten minutes.”
I feel my stomach start to do somersau
lts. Scene 20? That’s the kiss scene! Oh my gosh, it’s happening. Ryder and I are going to kiss. My first kiss is going to be with Ryder Vance! I better go brush my teeth. I better go check my reflection in the mirror. I better go—
“Well,” Ryder interrupts my thoughts, flashing me a wink. “I better go load up on those garlicky onions from the fajita bar.” Then he blows me a kiss, laughs, and walks away from the table.
I try to laugh, too, because I know he’s joking.
He’s totally joking.
Right?
I’d just like to say for the record that I, Ruby Rivera, was made for middle school. I am on fire.
Oral exam in Language Arts? Aced.
Pop quiz in American History? Please, I took three Civil War courses on the Learning Space this year alone. I could have written that quiz.
Gym class? C’mon. You call that a workout? That gym teacher has clearly never met Tyler, my personal trainer. I barely broke a sweat.
I even found Ethan’s contact information in Skylar’s phone and sent him a message, apologizing again for the whole name mix-up thing. I followed it with like seventeen emojis to try to get my point across.
He wrote back with a single smiley face. I took it as a good sign.
Middle school is everything I thought it would be and more. I raise my hand in every class with every question, and the teachers are überimpressed by everything I say.
Seriously, Skylar is going to come back to her life and not even recognize it, that’s how much I’m helping her. By the time I head to the cafeteria for lunch, I feel like I’m walking on clouds. No, strutting. I’m strutting on clouds.
I stand in the doorway of the noisy cafeteria and take in all the sights and sounds. Almost all the tables are filled with kids eating, talking, laughing. They’re all radiating energy and excitement. They’re all just being…kids. Something I never get to do. Lunch breaks on set are always awkward and weird. For starters, I can’t eat what everyone else is eating. Plus, there’s no one else there my age, unless you count Ryder, but I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a fork than sit next to him at lunch. Of course, there’s always extras hanging around. The show needs random kid actors to fill in the hallway scenes and classrooms. But I learned a long time ago never to trust the extras. They pretend to be your friend, but they always want something from you: a regular part on the show, an introduction to a big-shot music producer, anything to give them a leg up in this town. Which is why I usually eat alone in my trailer. It’s just easier.
Better You Than Me Page 15
