Better You Than Me

by Jessica Brody

  I pretend I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Strange? How?”

  He shrugs with one shoulder. “I don’t know. Just…different.”

  I let out a soft chuckle as I realize he might be the only person who’s noticed. I mean, apart from the strange looks I’ve been getting from Skylar’s mom. But in terms of the people Skylar goes to school with, Ethan seems to be the only one who’s picked up on the fact that I’m different. As in not her.

  “Thank you,” I say with a sigh.

  Ethan’s forehead crinkles in confusion. “For what?”

  “For noticing. You seem to be the only one who has.”

  He looks down at our feet. “I notice you every day.”

  I feel my face flush with heat. A boy has never said anything like that to me in real life.

  “Really?” I ask, feeling something start to glow inside me.

  Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I swear I feel Ethan scoot just the tiniest bit closer to me. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know how a guy wouldn’t notice you. Ever since you moved here, I don’t know, I kind of can’t stop thinking about you.”

  Suddenly, all the air that was trapped inside my lungs whooshes out. My chest squeezes painfully, and a deep, profound sadness washes over me.

  He’s not professing these things to me. He’s not even talking to me.

  He’s talking to Skylar. He’s talking about Skylar.

  This isn’t my life. This is her life. I’m still just living on borrowed time. I’m still just trespassing on private property. Somewhere I shouldn’t be. No matter what I do to improve Skylar’s life—get her a good grade in Language Arts, make friends with the Ellas, bond with her mother, dance with a boy—I eventually have to give this all back. Because it doesn’t belong to me.

  That wasn’t my Language Arts grade.

  Rebecca isn’t my mother.

  Those aren’t my friends.

  I quickly glance over at where the Ellas are still standing, but I notice they’ve stopped talking to each other and are now staring at Ethan and me. Actually, staring might be the wrong word—glaring is more like it. In fact, they look so furious, I’m momentarily distracted from my self-pity party.

  What is their problem? Are they angry that I actually decided to dance at a dance? Or are they just annoyed that I walked away from them?

  “Are you okay?” Ethan asks, bringing my attention back to him.

  “Yeah,” I say quickly. “Sorry. It just looked like my friends were mad at me for some reason.”

  “Your friends?” Ethan asks incredulously.

  “Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “Do you not remember what they did to you?”

  A bolt of fear travels through me.

  You don’t know the Ellas like I do. You shouldn’t trust them.

  Is that what Skylar was warning me about? Did the Ellas do something horrible to her? I want to ask Ethan what it was, but I also know that will make me sound crazy. If it was bad enough for him to remember, then I should remember, too.

  I try to laugh it off. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad.”

  He looks like he just bit into a rotten egg. “Not that bad? Are you kidding?”

  “I mean…” I try to backpedal. “Forgive and forget, right?”

  He cringes. “Okay. But I’m not sure I could forgive that. I know it’s not my business who you’re friends with or who you hang out with, but I wouldn’t trust Daniella if I were you. She’s…I don’t know…she seems kind of unstable.”

  Unstable?

  Is he just saying these things because he’s mad she turned him down? Is he just bitter?

  “She’s not that bad,” I say again, trying to play the whole thing off with a laugh, although inside I’m still dying to know what happened between Skylar and the Ellas.

  Ethan shrugs. “Okay. If you say so, but I’ve never liked that girl. Ever since elementary school, she’s always given me a bad vibe.”

  “Then why did you ask her to the dance?” I ask.

  Ethan’s hands immediately fall from my hips and I worry I’ve gone too far. Hit a sore spot. I should have just kept my mouth shut. He looks really mad now. So mad, he can’t even speak.

  “What?” he finally sputters out.

  “Daniella said you asked her to the dance and she turned you down.”

  His eyes go wide. “I never asked her to the dance! She asked me to the dance and I turned her down.”

  Now it’s my turn to fall speechless. I struggle to remember our conversation at the mall yesterday. I could have sworn she said she was the one who said no to him. What is going on here?

  I glance back at Daniella and she’s still watching us, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes narrowed. Something bitter coats the back of my throat. It takes me a minute to figure out what it is, and once I do, I know this night is about to take a very sour turn.

  It’s dread.

  For a moment, I can’t move. I can’t even blink. I’m frozen on the edge of the red carpet, taking in the unbelievable scene in front of me. Lights. Cameras. Celebrities.

  Everywhere!

  Everywhere I look there’s another superstar. Another famous face from some famous TV show. I spot Summer Crush doing an interview with a reporter from TMZ, and Berrin James actually turns and waves at me! Which I suppose shouldn’t really surprise me. After all, we are text buddies now. But I’m still far too stunned to wave back. In fact, I’m far too stunned to do much of anything. For a long time, I just stand there with my mouth hanging open, still unable to process any of this.

  Then about a hundred people start calling my name at once.

  “Ruby! Ruby! Over here! Ruby! Look this way! Ruby! Who are you wearing?”

  I blink out of my trance and suddenly remember where I am. Who I am. I’m Ruby Rivera! And Ruby Rivera doesn’t stand on a red carpet like a deer trapped in headlights; she works the red carpet. She flounces and flirts and poses.

  I snap to it and do my best impression of Ruby on the red carpet. I’ve seen enough videos of her in action. I know exactly what to do. I put one hand on my hip, turn, and smile. The cameras go crazy. Flash! Flash! Flash! People continue to call my name, and it spurs me on. I start sashaying my hips and tilting my chin this way and that. I have no idea what I’m doing, but the crowd seems to love it. They’re laughing and clapping and more photographers are running down the red carpet and positioning themselves in front of me to get a good shot.

  Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’ve broken into a series of dance moves taken straight out of the opening theme song of Ruby of the Lamp. The photographers laugh and snap away, and by the time I make it to the center of the red carpet, where all the interviewers are stationed, I’m tired and pretty breathless.

  “Well, that was something,” says a young blond man dressed in a blue suit. He thrusts a microphone in my face and says, “Hi, I’m BJ Bauman from Tell It Like It Is.”

  “Oh, I love that YouTube channel!”

  BJ looks shocked. “You know it?”

  “Yes!” I exclaim. “I watch it all the time. You guys have the best updates on Rub…” I clear my throat. “On me!”

  BJ chuckles uneasily. “Right. Great. Well, glad to hear that you like keeping up on…celebrity news. Are you excited to be at the Tween Choice Awards tonight?”

  I beam. “I am so excited. I mean, look at all these celebrities! It’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  BJ looks positively enchanted. He’s clearly loving my responses. “It’s certainly nice to see someone of your level of fame and success still getting excited about seeing your favorite artists. Do you think you have a good chance of winning tonight?”

  I know how I’m supposed to answer this question. I’ve seen Ruby do it a hundred times. I tilt my head and say, �
�Honestly, BJ. It’s just such an honor to be nominated.”

  BJ grins back. “It certainly is. Good luck tonight, Ruby.”

  “Thanks!” I step away, continuing down the red carpet toward the entrance of the theater up ahead.

  Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I am amazing at this. For the next ten minutes, I practically float down the red carpet, taking interview after interview with TV stations, bloggers, vloggers, and magazines. Three days ago, this very situation would have terrified me. But not today. Not now. Not wearing Ruby’s clothes, with Ruby’s hair and Ruby’s skin.

  As Ruby, I feel like I can do anything.

  And trust me, everyone wants to talk to me. It’s like walking down the hallway of middle school and everyone knows your name and everyone wants to be your best friend. Except like a zillion times better. Because this is like being popular all over the world.

  And the fans! They’re everywhere! And they’re all screaming my name. Okay, well, technically it’s Ruby’s name, but whatever. They’re going crazy. There are so many of them, and they’re so excited, they have to be fenced in behind these metal barriers. Which, when you think about it, is a little strange. People have to be barricaded from other people? I mean, Ruby is just a human being, like everyone else.

  “Ruby! Over here!” another interviewer calls, and I happily step over to him and assume my interviewing position, which I’ve gotten really good at as well. One hand propped on hip, shoulder angled toward the camera, gentle hair toss.

  “Hi, Ruby. I’m Chad Darcy from The Celebrity Spot!”

  I nearly choke. “Celebrity Spot? Like THE Celebrity Spot?”

  He laughs, clearly thinking I’m joking. The Celebrity Spot is the biggest celebrity gossip blog out there! They have all the exclusive breaking news, which they call a “Star Snoop!” And that’s how it feels. Like someone has been snooping around the celebrities’ lives, picking up all the insider information. I have no idea where they get all their juicy tidbits, but they always seem to be way ahead of the rest of the blogs and celebrity news channels. I think they must have spies all over Hollywood.

  “So who do you think is going to win Best Actress tonight?” Chad asks.

  I finally manage to regain my composure and answer the question with the same poise and diplomacy as the last one. “Oh, I have no idea. I mean, everyone in the group is so talented. It’s such an honor to even be nominated.”

  “What about Carey Divine?” Chad goes on, raising his eyebrows. “Do you think she’ll nab the award for the fourth year in a row, or does someone else have a chance?”

  Just the mention of Carey’s name makes my stomach turn. She better not win again. But of course I can’t say this. Ruby already told me they’re supposed to be best friends. And even though I don’t agree with it, I can’t ruin the illusion that Ruby has worked so hard to maintain. Plus, she might be watching right now, so I need to play it cool and act the way she would act. I flash another polite smile and say, “Carey is very talented. And as my best friend, if she wins, I’ll be really happy for her.”

  Even as I say the words, inside I feel like barfing all over Chad’s shiny black shoes. But I keep my smile light and professional. I’m actually pretty proud of my answer. It’s totally something Ruby would say.

  “Really?” Chad asks, looking genuinely surprised, like he doesn’t quite believe me. “You’d really be happy for her if she stole the title away from you for the fourth year in a row?”

  I flinch. What kind of a question was that? It almost seems like he’s trying to imply something. Plus, there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that kind of unnerves me. As though he’s not just posing a question, but watching my reaction carefully. Like a scientist watching a test tube, waiting for it to explode with fizzy green goo.

  I stretch my smile even wider until it physically hurts. “Yes. Really. Carey is my best friend.”

  “Hmm,” Chad says, sounding confused. “Because here at The Celebrity Spot, we’ve just announced a very interesting Star Snoop!”

  A knot forms in my stomach. What is going on? What is he talking about? What Star Snoop!? I feel my smile start to falter and I remind myself to stay calm. Think about what Ruby would do. She wouldn’t let her anxiety show.

  “What’s that?” I ask breezily.

  Someone steps out from behind a camera and hands Chad an iPad with a news article on it. He shows it to me and I can feel the camera zooming in on my face. Literally. The cameraman actually takes a step forward, getting so close to my face, it’s like he’s trying to focus on each individual eyelash.

  As I read the headline of the article, the knot in my stomach quickly turns into a gnarled, tangled mess. I fight to keep my face neutral, my smile painted on, but it’s nearly impossible.

  The cameraman zooms in even closer, and suddenly I can’t breathe. My vision starts to cloud over. I blink rapidly, trying to clear it, but it just keeps getting fuzzier.

  “So what do you have to say about this?” Chad prompts, like he’s poking at a wound, trying to see if he can get me to cry. But I won’t cry. Of course I won’t cry. I’m Ruby Rivera! I’ve never seen Ruby Rivera cry during an interview.

  Then again, I’ve also never seen Ruby Rivera run off the red carpet like the bogeyman is chasing her.

  And yet that’s exactly what I do.

  I was right. This dance did just need two people to kick it off. By the time the slow song has come to an end, there are at least ten more couples on the “dance floor.” The next song is another fast song, and Ethan immediately starts bouncing and swaying and jumping around to the rhythm. His dancing is so completely nonsensical, it makes me laugh.

  Yes, laughing. Laughing is good, I try to tell myself.

  As more and more people start to dance, it becomes harder and harder to keep my eye on the Ellas. They’re still huddled together on the sidelines, and for a second, I swear I see Daniella whip out her phone and Isabella and Gabriella gather around it, peering over her shoulder at the screen, but then a swarm of middle school boys comes bobbing and jumping onto the dance floor, blocking my view.

  Ethan does some impressive slide-hip-jut move, and I vow to keep all my focus on him. Who cares what the Ellas are doing? Who cares that Daniella was practically trying to murder me with her eyes just a second ago? It doesn’t mean anything. That might be how she looks at everyone.

  By the time we leave the dance floor, there are so many bodies crammed together, we have to push our way through. I silently congratulate myself for being the one to finally get this party started. Now, this is a dance!

  Ethan and I find a watercooler set up next to the bleachers and we guzzle down three cups each. I’m desperate to ask Ethan what this awful thing is that the Ellas did to Skylar, but I know I can’t. I know it will only give me away as the intruder that I am. So instead I say, “How long have you played lacrosse?” hoping it’s a safe question that Skylar hasn’t asked him before.

  It seems to be. He shrugs. “About two years. Since I was ten. I’m hoping to make varsity in high school.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “How about you? How long have you been…” But his voice trails off when he obviously can’t think of Skylar’s version of lacrosse. He laughs. “Sorry…what are you into? I feel bad that I’ve never asked.”

  I laugh, too, as I rack my brain for an answer. What are Skylar’s hobbies? I mean, besides me—Ruby Rivera. I know she hates to read, and judging from the look on her PE teacher’s face when I climbed that rope yesterday, I’m guessing she’s not very athletic, but she’s got to be good at something.

  “Um,” I begin, struggling to figure out how I’m going to finish this sentence. “Well, I really like…” And then I remember the brunch buffet I scarfed down this morning and how I told Skylar’s mom that I’d cooked it all. That’s right! Skylar likes to cook
. But I personally know nothing about cooking so I just say, “Food.”

  Ethan laughs. “Okay. What kind of food?”

  “Everything!” I exclaim. “Pancakes and waffles and burritos and pizza and nachos and…” I trail off when I realize that I’m doing it again. I’m slipping back into myself. I’m forgetting whose life this really is. Who this conversation really belongs to. I mean, maybe Skylar likes pizza and nachos, too, but that’s not the point. The point is I cannot let myself fall for this guy. Not for real, anyway. Tomorrow afternoon, Skylar and I are switching back and that will be that. I’ll never see him again. I have to do this for her, not for me. I have to pretend.

  Except I’m sick and tired of pretending. I’m tired of playing a role. Acting like someone else. Being someone else. For once in my life, I want to do what I want to do. Say what I want to say. Be me.

  But who is the real Ruby Rivera? That’s the problem. She’s definitely not the girl you see on TV. Or the girl the Xoom! Channel and my mother have made me out to be through strategic publicity campaigns and a carefully selected wardrobe. She’s someone else.

  And I have no idea who that is.

  “And…,” Ethan prompts, and I realize he’s still standing there waiting for me to tell him what other foods I like.

  I shake my head sadly. “Never mind. Let’s dance.”

  He doesn’t seem to notice my sudden bout of melancholy. “Okay.”

  We both chuck our empty paper cups into the nearby trash can and head back to the dance floor. Another upbeat hip-hop song is playing, and I try to lose myself in the beat. But it doesn’t take me long to realize that people aren’t dancing with the same energy as they were before. They’re all kind of lightly moving to the music, but their attentions are focused elsewhere.

  On their phones.

  Everyone seems to be either staring at their own phones or peering over a friend’s shoulder at theirs. Laughter starts to trickle through the crowd, starting out as just a small tinkling of noise before quickly growing to a full-on roar.