Pick Your Poison

by Lauren Child

  ‘Correct!’ declared the compere. ‘We have our winner.’

  Dakota Lyme glared at Ruby, one eye covered by her long dark hair. Her mouth was pinched like she had just eaten something sour, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

  The photographer stepped up to take some pictures and Dakota and Ruby were asked to stand uncomfortably close.

  ‘If I could ask you to hold up your trophy Ruby, and Dakota, your runner-up prize.’

  Ruby tried to force a smile, but it was hard because she hated this kind of dorky contest and even more than that she hated the dorky victory photographs. Dakota couldn’t force a smile because she was too sore about her defeat. So they stood there looking in some ways remarkably similar. They were the same height, same build, had the same long dark hair, they even sort of dressed alike, though Dakota’s T-shirt was pink and said Party Girl, and her sneakers had glitter detail and her jeans had a heart patch on the pocket. But their expressions weren’t so very different – even if Ruby managed to look coolly aloof and Dakota unattractively bitter.

  It was in the parking lot that Dakota became even less attractive. Ruby and Sabina were just driving slowly towards the exit when Dakota Lyme shouted, ‘You’re a phoney, Redfort. You cheat, I know you cheat, and your clothes are ugly, you dress like a boy.’ Dakota stamped her foot.

  Sabina Redfort reversed the car, wound down the window and said, ‘And you, pipsqueak, are a very unpleasant little madam who will never be attractive no matter what you wear!’ Then she put her foot down on the pedal and took off at more speed than was wise.

  Ruby winked at her mother and said, ‘Nice going, Mom.’

  And her mother said, ‘I simply can’t abide a sore loser.’

  TUESDAY MORNING CAME AND RUBY STUMBLED OUT OF BED. She looked out of the window and there was Mrs Gruber walking her Siamese cat. Mrs Gruber always walked her cat on a Tuesday; it was something you could count on.

  Ruby got ready for school and went down to the kitchen. No one was there. She was about to grab a bagel and walk out of the back door when she caught sight of an envelope lying on the table. On the front, written in her dad’s neat hand, the words:

  For Ruby, congrats on the big math win, love Pop

  And on the back:

  P.S. I had to go through hell and high water to get this

  She slit it open and pulled out a leaf-shaped piece of green card that said:

  YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE ENVIRONMENTAL EXPLORER AWARDS.

  She smiled. Nice going, Dad. There was a further note under the envelope, this one from her mother:

  I’ve ordered you new glasses, the pair you liked, as opposed to the ones I liked. Love Mom. P.S. Am I a nice mom or what?

  Ruby smiled. ‘Nice going, Mom.’

  Ruby climbed aboard the school bus and made her way down to her usual seat and sank into it. Stuck to the window was that same sticker of the cross-eyed kid and someone had scribbled WAKE UP AND SMELL THE BANANA MILK underneath.

  Del, thought Ruby, pushing back her sleeve to see the still very loud and clear message written on her arm. That’s not gonna disappear any time soon. Someone else had put a line through Del’s words and written, WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE.

  Who drinks coffee on a school bus?

  She caught sight of Bailey Roach sitting across the aisle – probably him, she thought. For just a second they locked eyes, but neither of them said a word. To the casual observer, this was no different from two strangers glancing at each other in the street, but to a person with good observational skills, the boy’s awkward running of hands through hair and biting of lower lip told a story.

  They were not friends, Ruby Redfort and Bailey Roach: he had blown his chances of friendship when he had picked on Clancy Crew. It wasn’t just that Clancy was Ruby’s closest friend; it was also a lot to do with the fact that Ruby couldn’t stand watching someone get picked on, period. Roach might be a bully, and his previous actions could certainly be deemed cowardly, but he was not a fool. He had figured out that to cross Ruby Redfort was to take on one determined enemy and, to be frank, Bailey Roach always went for the easy target.

  That was why Bailey Roach had avoided coming face to face with Clancy ever since the Marty’s minimart incident. No one in Bailey Roach’s gang, least of all Bailey, had understood how a wimpy-looking boy like Clancy had beaten him in a fight. Word had gone round school that Clancy Crew was not someone to be messed with, that he had some special moves, probably taught to him by some kung fu master. Whatever the reason, Roach certainly didn’t want to repeat the experience.

  Ruby made it into school in good time. This would give Mrs Drisco no opportunity to comment on Ruby’s lack of regard for the school clock (something her form teacher did most days) but she would have ample opportunity to comment on the T-shirt Ruby was wearing, which read: Have you had a frontal lobotomy or have I?

  The first person she ran into was Del, who said, ‘So I saw a picture of you in the paper standing with your little identical twin friend.’

  ‘What?’ said Ruby. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Just then Mouse came running down the corridor. ‘Hey, Ruby,’ she called, ‘who’s that kid in the Twinford Mirror, you related or something?’

  ‘She looks nothing like me,’ protested Ruby.

  Five minutes later Elliot arrived, waving the newspaper excitedly. ‘You have a doppelganger!’

  The photograph was black and white and did not show the vivid pink T-shirt or the glittery sneakers, the heart patch on the jeans, or indeed much of Dakota Lyme’s mean, pinched face.

  Red walked over, and peered at the picture. ‘Hey Ruby, congratulations. I didn’t know you had won the mathlympics prize!’

  ‘Don’t you think that girl looks like Ruby?’ said Del.

  ‘Not even slightly,’ said Red. ‘Dakota Lyme is a total vacuum.’

  Ruby thanked Red for her support and went off to find Clancy, who was sitting on a bench reading his Garbage Girl comic.

  ‘You’re early?’ said Clancy.

  ‘Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,’ said Ruby.

  ‘I give you one day, possibly two.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For your leaf to turn back over.’

  ‘I’m inspired by your confidence.’

  ‘I just know you – likelihood is you are going to revert to your old ways.’

  ‘Well, that’s kinda depressing.’

  ‘Talking of depressing, look who it is,’ said Clancy.

  Vapona Begwell walked by with her little gang. Gemma Melamare’s nose was encased in a triangle of splint and wadding. Ruby almost felt sorry for her; Gemma was very proud of her nose. It was certainly the cutest thing about her.

  When they passed, Vapona gave Ruby the evil eye and hissed, ‘Tell Lasco she’s a yellow-belly.’

  ‘Jeepers Vapona, tell her yourself,’ said Ruby. ‘I haven’t got time to run little messages between you guys.’

  ‘You’re in my sights, Redfort!’

  ‘I’m flattered,’ said Ruby as she walked into her form room.

  ‘So what’s the real reason for your punctuality?’ asked Clancy.

  ‘I got something to tell you,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Please don’t make me guess,’ said Clancy.

  ‘My dad gave me this.’ Ruby took out the invitation.

  ‘You must be in his good books,’ said Clancy. ‘My dad said you either got to know the right people or part with a whole lot of cash.’

  The first class of the morning was behavioural science and Mr Cornsworth was excited to announce a project which he hoped all the students would take part in.

  ‘I would like you to explore the idea of social interaction and think about the way human beings form groups and clubs and the various ways they communicate. Perhaps you could explore and investigate the importance and significance of these rituals.’

  There was a lot of exaggerated yawning from Vapona Begwell and Gemma Melamare. Bailey Ro
ach, who was sitting at the back of the class, was throwing balled-up pieces of paper across the room. Mr Cornsworth was not a confident teacher and had little clue when it came to controlling a class of thirteen and fourteen-year-olds, but when he went on to mention there would be ‘extra credit’ suddenly there was a lot of interest.

  Vapona, Gemma and Bailey Roach really needed to make up their grades. So did Clancy, as a matter of fact, but he was interested in the project for other reasons. Already he could see the outlines of a way of making a strong challenge to Mrs Bexenheath’s proposal that the school lockers be relocated. Not only might he change Principal Levine’s mind, but he could also gain a big tick on his grade sheet.

  Clancy started planning immediately, chewing on his pen.

  Ruby felt she had enough on her plate, psychologically speaking, without having to think about other people’s behavioural patterns – and besides, she didn’t need the extra credit. She might not be the most punctual, but she was a straight-A student.

  The issue more immediately facing her was the psychological falling apart of her basketball teammates. She had been thinking about this for much of the morning, already dreading the moment when school would end and she and her team would have to make their way to the Basketball courts, where they would almost certainly lose.

  Mouse was sat on the bench just down from the lower Amster stop when Ruby got there, waiting for the bus that would take them to the tournament. Opposite was a large brick wall and newly pasted there was an advertisement for something which showed the massive cartoon head of a kid, eyes crossed, and twisting from the mouth in huge curly letters the words:

  Weird, thought Ruby. What’s that supposed to—

  ‘What do you think the likelihood is that we get totally slammed?’ said Mouse, interrupting her thoughts.

  ‘You know that’s not a great attitude, Mouse.’

  ‘I just hate losing, and with Del on the bench we probably will.’

  ‘I read in this tennis coaching magazine that you’re a whole lot more likely to win if you love winning.’

  ‘I do love winning, that’s what I said.’

  ‘No, you said you hate losing. You shouldn’t be focusing on the losing, just set your sights on winning.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right, but I don’t think we’re gonna.’

  Ruby sighed, knowing this was probably true: most of her teammates did not have the killer instinct.

  ‘What do you reckon Taste Twisters are?’ said Ruby, staring at the image of the boss-eyed cartoon kid.

  Mouse studied the picture.

  She shrugged. ‘Some kind of candy – aimed at kids.’

  Ruby continued to stare. ‘It’s odd that they don’t tell you what it is, don’t you think? I mean, ordinarily they would want you to know.’

  ‘What are you guys looking at?’ called Elliot. He was walking towards them along the sidewalk, his gym bag over his shoulder. Del and Red were lagging a little behind.

  ‘We are trying to figure out what a Taste Twister is,’ called Mouse.

  Elliot joined them on the bench and he too turned his gaze on the poster. After a couple of minutes he said, ‘A drink – it’s a drink of some kind, most probably a kids’ drink.’

  ‘Why a drink?’ said Mouse.

  ‘Because of the straw,’ said Elliot.

  ‘Where’s the straw?’ asked Mouse. ‘I can’t see any straw.’

  ‘The twisting words, they represent a straw.’

  ‘I don’t see it myself,’ said Mouse. ‘But if it were a drink then what flavour would it be?’

  ‘Milk,’ said Elliot. ‘Milk. Has to be.’

  ‘Why?’ said Mouse.

  ‘Look at the kid’s teeth. If it was for soda or something then they wouldn’t emphasise how white the kid’s teeth were. They’re saying drink milk and have strong white teeth.’

  ‘When do they ever advertise a drink and show the kid with rotten teeth?’ said Ruby. ‘Doesn’t matter if the drink is choc full of sugar and treacle, they would still show the kid smiling a pretty smile. White teeth proves nothing.’

  ‘Who cares what it is,’ said Del. ‘I’d as soon drink a blue slushy, they’re super good.’

  ‘Think like that, my friend, and you’ll never taste anything better,’ said Red.

  ‘What’s better than a slushy?’ said Del.

  ‘You’ll never know,’ said Red.

  ‘I like slushies,’ said Del.

  ‘You should broaden your horizons,’ said Ruby.

  They sat looking for a little longer until Elliot shook his head and said, ‘I gotta make tracks.’

  The bus came into view and Mouse picked up her bag and waited for it to pull into the stop.

  Ruby sat a little longer. Cross-eyes, she thought. If it’s a drink then it’s a sharp-flavoured drink. It has bite.

  The game itself might only have been forty-eight minutes plus stoppage time, but it was a long and uncomfortable forty-eight minutes plus stoppage time. Vapona Begwell and her team (the Vaporizers) took every opportunity to step on Ruby’s toes, elbow her in the ribs and knock her over.

  The Deliverers (Ruby’s team) did not make it through to round two, and so as far as Ruby was concerned, there didn’t seem like a whole lot of point sticking around until the end of the tournament. She certainly wasn’t going to sit there and watch the Vaporizers grab victory.

  Vapona’s parting words were, ‘I’m gonna pulp you Redfort.’

  ‘Yeah, change the record would you, you said that at least forty times.’

  Del Lasco didn’t have to suffer the insults and general barging because her wrist was still strapped and she was sitting comfortably on the sidelines.

  ‘She’s only looking to pulp you because she can’t pulp me,’ said Del.

  ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better,’ said Ruby, ‘knowing that just being your friend causes me pain?’

  MOUSE AND RED HAD STUCK AROUND TO WATCH THE REST OF THE GAMES, but Ruby and Del didn’t have the heart. They now had time on their hands.

  ‘You wanna go down to Back-Spin and play table tennis?’ asked Del.

  ‘Oh, interesting, you can hold a ping-pong bat but you can’t dribble a basketball?’

  ‘Table tennis isn’t a contact sport,’ countered Del, ‘basketball can be.’

  ‘You don’t need to explain that to me,’ said Ruby. ‘You wanna see the bruises Bugwart laid on me?’

  ‘I can’t wait for my sprain to heal – I’ll be only too glad to have her try and land a punch.’

  ‘I’d be happy to point her in your direction,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, I’ll get her soon enough.’

  ‘You should give up on the fighting, it doesn’t achieve a thing. You think if you punch her she’s not gonna punch you back?’

  ‘It’s an honour thing,’ argued Del. ‘If I let her knock me down and I don’t retaliate, what will people think?’

  ‘That you’re not as dumb as you look.’

  In the end they decided to give the table tennis cafe a miss and instead hang out at Ruby’s house. Ruby was keen for Del to keep a low profile and, in any case, Mrs Digby had mentioned that she might be baking. Mrs Digby’s baking was right up there with sliced bread – her cookies were in a league of their own.

  When Del and Ruby made it home to Green-Wood house, they found Mrs Digby peering at a large piece of black and white paper rolled out on the kitchen table. She had a comedy-sized magnifying glass in her hand and was moving it across the paper, back and forth.

  There was no sign of any cookies.

  ‘What are you looking at Mrs Digby?’

  ‘A map of old Twinford,’ she said without looking up. ‘Your father got it for me.’

  ‘Why dya wanna look at an old map?’ asked Del.

  ‘I like to see how things once were in this town,’ said the housekeeper.

  ‘And how were they Mrs Digby?’ said Ruby, her head in the pantry.

  ‘Better,�
�� said the housekeeper. ‘Seems every day now they go knocking an old building down or running a road through it. I barely recognise my own neighbourhood, find I get lost in my own city. If it weren’t for the place names, you wouldn’t have a blind clue what used to be there.’

  ‘So Mrs Digby,’ said Ruby, ‘we were sort of wondering if there might be any, you know, cookies?’

  The housekeeper put her hands on her hips and said, ‘Upstairs in your room, and don’t ever go about saying I’m not a slave to your every need.’

  It was while they were sitting on the roof eating Mrs Digby’s cookies that misfortune struck.

  Ruby had just popped down to the kitchen to fetch some banana milk and returned to find Del peering over the top into the next-door yard.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘Your comic – I just put it down for a second while I put on my sweater …’ said Del.

  Ruby looked over the roof edge: there was the comic sitting on Mr Parker’s lawn.

  ‘It was an accident,’ said Del. ‘The wind sorta took it.’

  ‘You know, Kung Fu Martians is rare – that’s a collector’s edition, plus I haven’t finished reading it.’

  ‘I’m sorry OK,’ said Del, getting to her feet. ‘Look, I’ll go knock on his door and ask for it back.’

  ‘You’re kidding. You think you can just go over to Mr Parker’s and ask for your comic back? You must be crazy.’

  ‘Sure I do – what’s the worst he can do?’

  ‘One – feed it to his dog; two – feed you to his dog.’

  ‘You’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you?’

  ‘No,’ said Ruby, ‘actually, NO. Remember Red’s hat?’ Del made a face, she remembered all right. ‘Oh, and don’t forget Clancy’s sweater, Clancy’s left sneaker, Clancy’s trumpet, my mom’s scarf – he apologised for that one, he even returned it, though the whole middle section was missing.’

  ‘OK,’ sighed Del, ‘I get your point, I’ll have to climb over the fence.’

  ‘With your wrist strapped? I don’t think so.’ Ruby stood up. ‘It’s me that’s gonna have to get it.’ Without another word, she stepped off the rooftop and onto the eucalyptus branch that extended towards the house. Darn it Del, she thought.