“Are you going with a date?” Clint asks.
I shake my head. “Nope, just some new friends.”
Rebecca visibly perks up at this. “Friends? What friends?”
I shrug. “The same girls I went to the mall with yesterday.”
Rebecca’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. She looks so proud, and I feel a swell of satisfaction. Not only have I improved Skylar’s relationship with her mother, I’ve managed to make her mother smile like that.
“Great!” Clint says. “That should be fun. Maybe they’ll play some Ruby Rivera songs.”
I choke on my food.
Gosh, I hope not, I think as I cough up the burger that’s lodged in my throat.
Rebecca pats me on the back. “Slow down, sweetie.”
“Your mom tells me you’re a huge fan,” Clint explains.
I swallow my bite and wash it down with a sip of Coke. “Yes. Huge fan.”
“My niece loves her, too,” Clint says. “Watches every episode of her show and can’t stop talking about her. She’s about your age.”
I nod and take another bite of burger, and that’s when I see it. It’s so fast, I almost miss it.
A fleeting look.
A secret glance when they think I’m not looking.
A mutual smile.
It’s the exact same look I saw on that boy Ethan’s face when he grinned at me in the hallway yesterday.
I look up at Rebecca and she’s suddenly super focused on her own burger, like it’s the most important thing in the world. But I notice that her face is a shade redder than it was a second ago and her knee is bouncing up and down under the table like she’s had too much sugar.
I cast my gaze to my plate, my mind spinning as this entire situation suddenly becomes very clear.
Skylar’s mom has a crush!
The song is bouncy. It’s energetic. It’s perfection.
After a short upbeat intro, Ruby’s voice comes in.
“So you say you wanna be a star.
Don’t you know, baby, you already are.
So you say you wanna be the queen.
Look around, you already rule the scene.”
Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh! I love it so much! It’s so amazing! I immediately start jumping around and moving to the beat. I don’t even care that my legs are sore from the workout this morning. I just can’t help but dance.
Jules leaps into action and starts taking my picture.
“This is great!” she calls. “Own it! Do it! Love it! Dance it! Be it!”
“Turn it up!” I call out, and the music gets even louder, until I can’t even hear my own thoughts. I’m consumed by Ruby’s voice. Ruby’s words.
“You don’t need a si-ign,
’Cause you already shi-ine.
There’s no straighter li-ine,
This is by des-ign.
Don’t you know?
Don’t you know?
Don’t you knooow?”
By the second chorus, I already know the words and am singing along at the top of my lungs.
“You are a star!” Jules shouts over the music.
“This is the best song ever!” I shout back.
“Okay, now give me some goofiness!” she says, and I cross my eyes and stick out my tongue. She laughs and snaps a hundred photos, the lights around me flashing with each click.
“Now pretend that someone has just said the sweetest thing in the world to you.”
I giggle and make an “awwww” face as I cross my hands over my heart.
“YES!” Jules enthuses. “Now show me serious. You’re a teacher who’s angry at her students.”
I twist my mouth into a grimace and glare toward the camera, channeling Mr. Katz after he found out I didn’t read that stupid Of Mice and Men book. Who cares about that book now! I’m Ruby Rivera! I’m a superstar! Just like the song says, I already shine!
“That’s perfect!” Jules shouts, clicking furiously.
A moment later, the song comes to an end and the next one begins. This one is a ballad. And I’m grateful, because I was starting to get a little winded from all the upbeat dancing and posing. I can already tell I love this ballad. It seems to be about going back to where you’re from, returning to your roots.
“I’ve traveled this world near and far,
But I’ll never forget what’s in my heart.
I’ve seen everything there is to see,
But I’ll never forget what makes me, me.
No matter where you roam,
There’s really no place like home.”
There’s a sadness in Ruby’s voice that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard in any of her other songs before. Or maybe I’m simply hearing it for the first time because I know her a little better now. The words themselves are more sweet than sad, but it’s like she just can’t help it. The sorrow seeps in. It shapes the words, making them much more melancholy than I’m sure the songwriter intended.
I wonder if Ruby was thinking about her father when she sang this. The one she said she doesn’t know.
“Okay, good. This is good,” Jules says, watching my reaction carefully. “Let’s bring it down, down, down. Let’s do sad and pensive. Let’s do frowny face. You’re missing someone a lot.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, I think about my dad, how far away he is, living on a completely different coast. I think about the divorce and how quickly it all happened. One minute they were sitting me down, telling me they were going to separate, and the next, Mom was packing our stuff for California. What’s going to happen after this year is over? Will we ever all live in the same house again?
Mom keeps telling me that this move is temporary. That we’ll be back in Amherst before I know it. But what if that’s a lie? What if she loves her job here and wants to stay?
What if…
“AMAZING!” the photographer shrills, interrupting my thoughts. “Yes! Ruby, you are a natural! Love the tears!”
Tears?
I quickly run my fingertip under my eyes and it comes back wet. I didn’t even realize I’d been crying. The makeup artist hurries over to touch up my face and I apologize to her for messing it up.
“Don’t be!” she whispers to me. “You’re doing so great. Your mom was just saying she’s never seen you so into a photo shoot before. Keep it up!”
As the photographer switches out cameras, I steal a peek at Eva, who’s watching from the sidelines, beaming at me. She gives me a thumbs-up and I smile back at her. It feels kind of amazing knowing someone is proud of you. I know Mom loves me and everything, but lately it seems like I’m just disappointing her. I know she’d never say it aloud, but I can tell. She hates that I watch TV. She hates that I don’t read. She hates that I’m not more like her.
And watching Eva beam at me like I’m her pride and joy lifts my heart and makes me feel lighter somehow, despite my totally sore and stiff muscles. I mean, I know she’s not my mother, but she’s someone’s mother. And she thinks I’m doing a good job.
The photographer returns with a new camera just as the ballad comes to an end and another loud, upbeat song comes on.
“Okay, Ruby,” Jules says, hoisting up her camera. “Let’s try fierce! You’re a lioness protecting her cubs!”
I immediately brush off my former melancholy and let the rhythm of the song take me over. I let out a giant roar as I claw the air. The photographer clicks her camera like crazy. Then someone turns on a wind machine and my hair starts blowing wildly. It tickles my face and I start laughing.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” the photographer calls out, getting excited. “Heart face! More of that.”
I fight to push the hair from my eyes, laughing the whole time.
Click! Click! Cli
ck!
Thirty minutes and nine incredibly awesome songs later, the album comes to an end and Mom and I gather around Jules’s laptop as she swipes through the photos. With each picture, I stare at Ruby’s gorgeous dark hair and golden skin and vibrant smile and I still can’t get over the fact that it’s me. I mean, me inside. I’m wearing those clothes. I’m inside that skin. I’m smiling that smile.
“These are incredible, Ruby,” Jules says, clicking her track pad. “Even better than your last album. Your fans are going to love them.”
“Yes,” I whisper in awe as each photo flies by on the screen. “I’m pretty sure they will.”
Jules stops on a picture of me looking forlorn and pensive. It was clearly taken when the ballad was playing, when I was thinking about Mom and Dad and how much I miss home. The picture is beautiful, yet sad. Like a bittersweet heartbreak.
Jules turns to look at Eva with a raised eyebrow.
Eva nods knowingly. “That’s it. That’s the fragile little girl I was looking for.”
And just like that, Ruby has a new album cover.
As we drive home from campus, my mind should be on the dance. The Ellas are picking me up in an hour and I need to figure out what to do with Skylar’s hair. But right now the dance is about the furthest thing from my mind. I’ve been subtly trying to get Rebecca to talk about Clint the whole car ride home.
I say things like “So, that meal was interesting,” and “So, that was a surprise, seeing one of your colleagues there,” and even “So, Clint was nice.” But she doesn’t seem to get the hint, or if she does, she’s trying to avoid the topic. She just gives me one-sentence answers like “Yes, it was,” and “Yes, he is.”
By the time we pull into the parking lot of the faculty housing, I’m so frustrated by her evasive answers that I finally just blurt out, “Do you have a crush on Clint?”
Rebecca nearly slams into a parked car. Thankfully, she hits the brakes just in time and manages to calmly pull into an empty spot, but I can see my question has unnerved her. When she puts the car in park, her hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly.
“Um…,” she says, not looking at me. She’s looking at a dirt spot on the windshield, like she’s wondering where that came from and how long it’s been there. “Where did you get that idea?”
I shrug. “It’s pretty obvious.”
Her head whips toward me. “It is?”
I giggle. “Yes, Rebec—I mean, Mom. You two were flirting like teenagers.”
Her face reddens and she looks down at her lap. “No we weren’t.”
“You totally were,” I counter, and then when I see the smile crack on her face, I add, “He likes you, too, you know?”
For an instant, her grin broadens, but it disappears almost as quickly. “Oh, well, it’s nothing. Clint is…We’re just friends.”
Rebecca is doing a horrible job of lying. It’s obvious she likes this guy.
“Has he asked you out?”
Her face reddens again. “No. Of course not. He knows I’m going through a div…”
Divorce.
That’s what Rebecca was going to say, but she couldn’t seem to finish the word. Like she was afraid of it. Like it was a bomb about to go off.
And that’s when I realize why Rebecca is acting so cagey. She thinks this is going to upset me. Or, rather, Skylar. She’s trying to protect Skylar’s feelings. And in that moment, my affection for her balloons to the size of this car.
I’m not sure my mother has ever put my feelings first. I don’t think she’s ever once thought of how I would feel before making a decision or speaking her mind. That’s pretty obvious every time she tells me I need to trim another inch off my waist or insists I change because my current outfit makes my hips look fat.
Or basically every decision that’s been made for me in the past four years.
Skylar’s mother cares about her daughter.
My mother cares about her daughter’s image.
Skylar’s mother wants her daughter to be happy.
My mother wants her daughter to be rich so she can continue buying herself Tiffany diamonds.
Skylar’s mother cares more about her daughter’s feelings than her own.
My mother just doesn’t.
“Mom,” I say.
“Mmm?” She turns and faces me, but I keep my gaze trained out the windshield. For some reason I can’t look at her when I say this. Maybe it’s because I know Skylar won’t approve. But that’s only because Skylar doesn’t appreciate what she has. She doesn’t realize that her mom is hurting, too, and she wants to be happy. She deserves to be happy.
One day Skylar will thank me for this.
“You should go out with Clint,” I say quietly.
There’s silence on the other side of the car, and I can’t bear to look. I don’t want to see her expression. Will she be shocked? Hurt? Confused?
When she speaks, I can hear there’s a little of all three. “What?”
I bite my lip. “If he’s asked you out, and you’re just saying no because of me, then don’t. You should go out with him.”
“B-b-but,” she stammers, clearly not expecting this. “But what about…” Her voice trails off again. I have no idea what she was going to say next. I don’t think she quite knew, either.
I take her hand. It feels warm. It feels inviting. Like a mom’s hand is supposed to. “You should do what makes you happy.”
By the time we get back to the mansion, I’m completely exhausted. After the photo shoot, I had to film promos for the season finale. I had to stand in front of a camera for two hours saying, “You’re watching the Xoom! Channel! Now stay tuned for the season finale of Ruby of the Lamp!” over and over again. You would think one time would be enough, but it wasn’t. The producer handling the promos wanted every different combination of enunciations.
“You’re watching the Xoom! Channel!”
“You’re watching the Xoom! Channel!”
“You’re watching the Xoom! Channel!”
All I really want to do is veg out in front of the TV for the rest of the night, but as soon as we walk through the door, Eva says, “The limo is picking us up in an hour for the Tween Choice Awards.”
On a normal day, the words “limo” and “Tween Choice Awards” would cause me to get all sorts of giddy and excited. But after that torturous workout and the photo shoot and the promos, I can barely stand up, let alone prance down a red carpet.
As Eva riffles through dress options, I sit on a sateen bench in the middle of the closet and scroll through Ruby’s feed on my phone. I’m trying to pull strength from the thousands of likes and comments. All these people are waiting to see Ruby at that awards show tonight. I can’t let them down. But somehow, and for some reason I can’t even begin to fathom, I find myself wandering over to my own profile. The old and boring Skylar Welshman.
But the picture I see on the top of the feed completely takes me by surprise. Apparently, I’m not the old and boring Skylar Welshman. I’m some new and exciting Skylar Welshman. One who hangs out with…
The Ellas?
I squint at the picture, certain I must be seeing things. But nope. There I am, sitting and laughing with none other than Daniella, Isabella, and Gabriella. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, judging from this picture, I would say the four of us were best friends. The pictures were actually posted on Daniella’s feed, but Skylar Welshman is tagged and the location is pinned as South Coast Plaza.
What on earth is going on over there? How has Ruby managed to become friends with the Ellas in less than two days? Is this some kind of mean joke? Are they playing a prank on her? That’s the only rational explanation. But what if she doesn’t realize it? What if she has no idea? I need to warn her!
My throat constricts as I hastily open a text message and ty
pe in my number.
“What about this one?” Eva says, holding up a shimmery purple gown.
“Great,” I mutter absently as I type.
Why are you hanging out with the Ellas?
As I wait for a response, I tap my fingers anxiously on the side of the phone. Ruby texts back a moment later.
They’re actually not as bad as you think. They invited me to go to the dance with them tonight
It’s a trap. It has to be. The Ellas don’t just invite random people to hang out with them. They’re luring her in, making her feel safe, and then they’re going to pounce! They’re going to completely humiliate her (me!) again. I cannot let this happen! I quickly type back:
BAD idea. You don’t know the Ellas like I do. You shouldn’t trust them
A few seconds later, she replies. I feel my heart start to race.
Don’t worry! I’ve got this under control. Have fun at the Tween Choice Awards!
She doesn’t get it. I want to tell her about the burping video. She needs to see it to fully understand what she’s getting herself into. But…I just can’t. It’s too embarrassing. Ruby Rivera can’t know just how pathetic I am. Plus, typing it out, explaining it all, will only force me to rehash it. And I just can’t bring myself to do that. Not when I’m about to get into a limo to go to the Tween Choice Awards! This is one of the most exciting nights of my life. I can’t let anything ruin it.
So I force myself to turn off the screen and put away the phone, vowing not to waste another second thinking about the life of Skylar Welshman.
As soon as we get inside the apartment, I dive into the task of transforming Skylar for the dance. Admittedly, I don’t have a lot to work with here. Skylar’s mom doesn’t seem to keep one beauty product in the house. I’d kill for a single tube of lip gloss or even a curling iron. But there’s no time to run out and buy anything. I’m going to have to improvise.
Better You Than Me Page 20
