• • •
I read a little of my book before bed. I learn more about Lavender’s search for unicorns. When I fall asleep, the stories mash up so they become one, except now I am the person on the adventure.
The moon shines through the dark night, lighting a path for me. I am not in the forest but inside a closed museum. The map is in my hand, and Buddy the fox is by my side. I am searching for the unicorn. I look behind the sculptures and underneath the cases of pottery. Then I think to look at the paintings. One by one, I check them until I find one with a white unicorn nearly hidden in a forest of golden leaves. The unicorn suddenly disappears behind the trees. I step through the painting to follow him.
Chapter 6
A Roller-Coaster Day
Thursday morning, I hurry up the stairs to line up in front of Room 15. I am so focused on the clues to find a missing unicorn that I have completely forgotten about Siri and the vote yesterday. I remember the minute I reach the top of the stairs, because Siri looks like she might cry again. I ask her if she’s OK, but she just shrugs and acts like nothing is wrong.
The bell rings, and Mrs. Sablinsky takes us into class. Siri is right in front of me, and we usually hang our backpacks side by side on the rack inside the room. Only today, she moves over and hangs hers at the end, next to Will B’s backpack. Will B!
Mrs. Sablinsky rings her little bell, signaling the class to be quiet and listen. She begins to take roll. Since my name is near the end of the alphabet, I don’t have to pay attention just yet.
I slump down in my seat and lean my head on my arm.
Siri is looking at the teacher with laser vision, as though if she looks away, she will suddenly be transported to another galaxy. Everyone can tell when someone is looking at them, even if that someone is looking at them from the side. That’s how I know Siri can tell I am looking at her, even if she doesn’t want me to know she knows. And that makes it even worse.
This is how I know that:
something
is
very
wrong
(or wronger, if that were a word, which I am pretty sure it’s not).
I am so focused on Siri that I don’t notice Mrs. Sablinsky calling me until Will waves his hand in front of my eyes. “Ruby, it’s your name.”
“Here,” I call out immediately. “Thanks for the quick save,” I whisper to Will.
“No problem,” he whispers back.
I look Siri’s way again. She still has her eyes latched on to the teacher. I wonder what would happen if I called her name. Would she look at me, or would she ignore me? I decide to give it a try.
“Siri,” I whisper. “Siri.”
Nothing.
“Hello there,” I try again.
Still nothing.
OK, now this is getting embarrassing. It might have even crossed the border of embarrassing and moved into humiliating territory.
Fine. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, then I won’t talk to her either. This is called the Shun. We have been here before, and it requires a special warning: Be prepared. The Shun can be extremely upsetting to witness. The Shun is when someone who usually wouldn’t ignore you pretends you don’t exist. It’s awfully miserable to receive the Shun, but it’s even worse to give someone the Shun because you always end up regretting it.
I know I will regret it, but I can’t let myself be shunned without shunning in return. (This is one of those times when I should have learned from my lowercase m mistakes, but I haven’t really. Or I haven’t learned enough, anyway.) That’s why I stop looking at Siri or calling her name. From this moment on, we will be invisible to each other.
While all of this drama is going on in my personal life, my teacher is trying to start class. After Bryden walks in late, and she has to wake up Jason twice, she makes an announcement.
“I have some big news for Room 15. In connection with your book reports and research on the natural world, we will be having a field trip next Thursday.”
Field trips aren’t really that exciting at my school, since most of the time we stay here and the activity comes to us. So the field trips aren’t really trips, but assemblies that are called “field trips,” which is completely misleading if you ask me.
Plus, I haven’t had the greatest time at them. The last field trip that wasn’t really a field trip involved taking off shoes and walking on a giant map. The map part would have been fun if it hadn’t been for my mismatched socks, which were on display for the entire fifth grade to see. (And the fact that my partner was giving me the Shun at the time.)
Then Mrs. S says something that completely and totally surprises me:
“We will be going to the Natural History Museum.”
This isn’t just big news. This is the biggest news in the history of fifth grade. A real field trip! The whole class starts cheering, and for a split second, I completely forget about Siri and the Shun because I am clapping and hollering along with the rest of Room 15 about this awesome news.
“I am handing out permission slips that you must have signed by your parent or guardian and returned by next Monday. We will be leaving on the bus right after roll call and not returning until after lunch, so you will need to bring a sack lunch for yourself that day.”
I try not to notice that Siri has turned around to ask Charlotte to sit with her on the bus. Everyone knows that best friends sit together on bus rides. It’s one of those things that is reserved for best friends, like sleepovers and special handshakes. Of course, Daisy and Jessica will sit together. So that leaves me… partnerless.
Also known as the worst possible situation to be in. This day has gone from amazing to awful to amazing to awful like a giant roller coaster zooming up and down. The last time our family went to an amusement park, I tried the roller coaster with Connor. One minute, I had my hands in the air, woo-hoo-ing. And the next minute, I was gripping my brother’s arm and begging to get off the ride. I check the clock. This roller coaster of a day has happened in less than fifteen minutes.
Suddenly, I am not looking forward to the field trip anymore. I’m not even looking forward to reading more of Lavender Lakewood’s book. I just want to go home.
The day gets worse from there. Mrs. Sablinsky decides to give us a pop quiz on the metric system. After the test, I take a peek at the word search box. Last time I looked in here, I had done all of the searches. But it looks like she’s added some new ones. I choose a star in honor of my last name.
I find all of the words except for one: spotlight. I look and look at the star, but I just don’t see it. Dad says sometimes if you can’t find the answer to a problem, you need to look at it from a different perspective. I turn the star sideways, but I still can’t find the missing word.
I don’t have more time anyway, because Mrs. S has another announcement for us. But this time, it isn’t going to make me or anyone else in class cheer.
“I have to go to a district meeting, and there is a sub coming for the rest of the day.” Chatter fills the room as everyone talks about having a sub for the rest of the day. It could be someone fantastic like Mrs. Xia…
The door creaks open as though in slow motion. Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaak!
Or it could be this really awful substitute teacher we had once, named—
“Mrs. Cheer, there you are,” Mrs. S says to the unfriendliest sub ever in the history of subs.
And there she is. She’s already wearing her pretend I’m-happy-to-be-here smile, but I know from past experience that she is anything but happy to sub this class. Mrs. Cheer is most definitely not cheery.
Mrs. Sablinsky gives us lots of social studies questions to be followed by spelling words and sentences. Everyone in class works without even a giggle. Maybe that’s because Mrs. Cheer will write down the name of any student who is not behaving on the board. Or maybe it’s because whatever we
don’t finish in class will be homework.
I’m so busy with the assignments that I actually forget about Siri and the Shun—until the bell rings for lunch. Because it all comes zooming back into my mind when I see Siri rush out the door next to Charlotte without even waiting for me.
I join Jessica and Daisy for the walk down the stairs and to the lunch tables. I try not to think about why Siri is mad at me. I also try not to think about an entire afternoon with Mrs. Cheer.
“I can’t believe how much work Mrs. Sablinsky left for us today,” Daisy complains. I pull off my sweatshirt and tie it around my waist. It is as warm as a summer day today even though it’s December.
“She probably wants to keep us busy so we don’t cause any trouble for Mrs. Cheer.” Jessica would make a good teacher when she grows up—she seems to understand the way teachers think.
This is one of those times when I would rather tag along than talk. When we get to the lunch tables, I take the seat on the end of the bench, next to Daisy. Siri and Charlotte are on the other side of the table. Charlotte gives me a smile with a shrug. I think it’s a message without words to tell me that she’s sorry for leaving me out. Siri is still not looking at me. But I’m not looking at her either (well, actually I am looking at her, or I wouldn’t know that she isn’t looking at me).
Everyone else is eating their lunches and chatting away. It’s like they don’t even notice that two best friends are not speaking. I can’t possibly eat at a time like this, so I don’t bother to open my lunch to see what Mom sent for me today. I just sip from my water bottle and pretend to listen to everyone talk about the field trip. A field trip where we actually leave school is definitely something to celebrate, unless you know that you are already going to be partnerless. In which case, you will be matched up with someone by your teacher. This means that another student who is partnerless will become your partner. I consider the options for this scenario—Jason, who sleeps through class almost every day, or Will B, who likes to eat random objects that are not actually food, are the two students who are most likely to be partnerless.
Maybe I can come up with an illness that will keep me out of school next Thursday. Anything would be better than facing a day with a partner chosen by my teacher because I can’t get one on my own.
“Fairy-tale mash-up at lunch today?” Charlotte asks. On Thursdays, we play a drama game. Today is supposed to be a fairy-tale mash-up, where each of us chooses a main character from a fairy tale to represent.
“Count me in,” I answer.
When the aide blows her whistle, I don’t have to pack up my lunch bag because I have never even opened it. That makes me the first one standing up.
“I’m going to the swings,” Siri says before taking off by herself.
Charlotte watches her walk away and then looks back to me. Daisy and Jessica are looking back and forth too. Finally, everyone is noticing the something that is very wrong. No one says anything about it, which is a good thing because even though Siri isn’t talking to me, I don’t want to talk about her. That would make the something wrong even worse. (Trust me, I know this from past experience. This is one thing I have learned from my lowercase m mistakes.)
“What do you want to do?” I ask Jessica.
Jessica shrugs. “Drama Thursdays. That’s what we always do.”
It’s not so much fun to act out a play when one of the cast members is missing. Even though we all take a part (I am Red Riding Hood), there’s tension in the air like a thundercloud hovering over us. Any minute, we expect to get zapped with lightning. We just don’t know when.
I am Little Red Riding Hood heading through the forest to bring my grandmother a jar of pickles on a cloudy day. A thundercloud bursts overhead, and jagged streaks of lightning begin to crack the sky into pieces. As the sky falls down around me, I dash for cover to the nearest shelter I see, which is a house made of bricks. This used to be the house of the Three Little Pigs, but they moved to London, so now a wolf lives here. The wolf is actually friendly and offers me the starring role in his new musical about the power of friendship. He’s an excellent tap dancer, and he makes a delicious apple pie.
Chapter 7
The Most Awful Friday: Part 1
The end of the day is spent running around the schoolyard for PE, followed by games of basketball. Mrs. Cheer actually looks sort of happy about this activity. I’m guessing this is because she can sit on the lunch benches and read a book while we exercise. I can’t really blame her though. I would rather be reading than running. I’d rather be doing anything than running, even dividing fractions.
I usually run with Siri. But today everything is different. I end up running by myself. Running alone is B-O-R-I-N-G! We already know how I feel about change, so this is not good for me—not good at all.
(Heroes in books sometimes have to face challenges all on their own because no one else will stand by them. It happens.)
By the time the bell rings and I can hurry out to the front of school to meet Gram, I am exhausted. Who knew the Shun could be so tiring?
“Hi, pumpkin,” Gram says, greeting me with a hug. “How was your day?”
If I start telling her the whole story here, I might break the Ruby Starr No Crying at School Rule. That would make this day the official worst day ever in the history of days. So instead of going into all the details, I just say this: “Good and bad. Could you take me to the library to pick up a book? It would make the bad part a whole lot better.”
Gram is the best when it comes to worser-than-worse days. She sweeps my backpack over her shoulder and puts her arm around me. “Let’s make this day a whole lot better then.”
As she drives Grambus to the library, I tell her my good news about the field trip. This I can talk about without getting upset.
“The Natural History Museum is filled with wonderful exhibits.” I can see her smile in the rearview mirror but not the rest of her face. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
My stomach grumbles just then, and it’s loud enough for Gram to hear. “I think there’s a bear caught inside your stomach,” she says.
Here’s my top list of most embarrassing things to happen to you at school:
1. Vomiting (this happened to Daisy once, and after she threw up on her desk, everyone ran out of the room screaming)
2. Stomach gurgles
3. Having something green or black stuck in your teeth
Lucky for me my stomach waited to do its gurgling until after school.
“I didn’t really eat my lunch,” I explain to Gram. I didn’t eat my lunch at all on account of the person who is supposed to be my best friend since kindergarten is giving me the Shun because I voted against her in book club. But I don’t add all that. I’m not ready to talk about it yet. And anyway, we will be at the library in a few minutes and there is barely enough time to go in and get my unicorn book. I don’t want to start talking about something that takes way more time than it takes to eat a granola bar to explain.
But I do have enough time to eat a granola bar. And lucky for me, Mom has packed one in my lunch today. I hurry to bite into it. Yum. It has raisins. The little surprise of biting into a granola bar and finding a raisin boosts my energy and gives me a little spring in my step. I hurry to the children’s section of the library. Gram is right beside me. She’s a sporty grandma, so she can keep up with a ten-year-old who has a springy step.
My favorite librarian, Miss Mary, is here today. She isn’t wearing her usual style of a colorful cardigan and flowered skirt. Instead, she is dressed up as Dorothy! For book people like me, when someone says Dorothy, we automatically know the person is referring to the one and only Dorothy from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Miss Mary is wearing a blue-and-white-checked apron dress with a white, puffy-sleeved shirt underneath. Her curly brown hair is in two braids tied with blue ribbons, she has a basket over her arm, and on her feet are si
lver, sparkly slippers. (Fun factoid: the ruby slippers Dorothy wears in the movie were a change from the silver ones in the book because the red looked better on film. I’m a movie trivia whiz!)
“Hi, Miss Mary. I love your outfit!” I smile as I peek inside the basket. There’s an actual dog stuffed animal in there.
“Hi, Ruby. You got here at the perfect time. I just returned from Oz.” She clicks her silver heels together. “We’re celebrating children’s literature today by dressing up as our favorite characters.”
That’s when I notice that other librarians are wearing costumes too. I see a knight, a genie, a pioneer, and the Queen of Hearts all walking around the library.
“What a wonderful idea,” Gram says with a smile.
“I wish we could dress up every day,” Miss Mary adds. “I had a hard time choosing.”
I nod and grin. “I know what you mean. I can think of at least ten characters I could be.” I consider listing them for Miss Mary, but I know time is ticking away, and I need to get my book checked out. That’s why I cut the chitchat and get to business. “My dad and I reserved a book for checkout today. It’s by Lavender Lakewood.”
“Ah, searching for unicorns today?” I’m not surprised that Miss Mary has read the book. She knows absolutely everything about children’s literature. There isn’t a title that she hasn’t already read.
Miss Mary goes to the front desk. Gram and I don’t sit down like we usually do because this will be a short visit. The book is already reserved, and I know it’s here.
She returns speedy quick with a small book in her hand. This one is raspberry colored, but it has the same gold unicorn on the front. My skin starts to tingle the minute I see it. When she places it in my hands, a shiver runs down my neck. It’s not a scary kind of shiver, like when you read a spooky part of a story—it’s more like a one-of-a-kind moment shiver.
The Great Museum Mix-Up and Other Surprise Endings Page 5
