INSANE IN THE BRAIN
Brett
SATURDAY, MAY 1
Offering thanks to whoever made the decision for mail to run before noon on Saturday’s, I sprint toward the front porch dodging puddles. The yard’s a lake after three days of downpours. At this rate, I’ll be rowing a boat to prom next weekend.
I duck under the covered roof, and protected from the elements, sift through the mail hoping for a letter. Letters from Ruby are akin to drugs for an addict. I’m always anticipating my next Ruby hit. Man, I’m pathetic.
I refuse to analyze my feelings. I’m not sure I want to know what it means—the way I think about her, the way I wait for a letter each day— and the closer Hope and I become, the harder it is to ignore Ruby’s presence in my mind.
The wind shifts, sending bands of frigid rain toward my legs and bare feet. There it is. My pulse quickens at the colorful envelope. Hopefully it’s not another letter about Jimmy . . . or Mitchell, or another one with sad Ruby. I crave a letter full of quirky insight, strange facts, and funny tales about her week. Her letter from the other day was a bit of both. Today I want a letter full of sunshine in an otherwise dreary day.
Amber groans dramatically from the adjoining living room as I enter the foyer, wiping my feet on the rug. “There's nothing on.”
“What? You mean to tell me nothing interesting started since you flipped through all the channels two minutes ago?” She hasn't moved in an hour, except for her thumb. It must be exhausted from channel surfing. Zeke rushes my way, his tongue ready to slurp off the water dripping down my shins.
Amber throws the remote down—freedom for the thumb!— “Let’s go shopping.” She jumps to her feet.
“Ha! I’m sorry, did you forget who you’re talking to?” Shopping? I don’t do shopping.
“Breeett.”
“Your whine doesn't work on me, Amber. Take the car and go. I was planning on hanging around here today anyway.”
“I can't go alone. That's boring.” What a shock, Amber being Amber, always needing to be entertained. I chuckle at the memory of Mom's joke, “The whole reason God gave me twins was because he knew Amber needed a constant playmate.” “Besides, aren’t you tired of sitting at your desk and drawing all day?”
I pat Zeke’s silky head and respond with a deep sigh, “Fine, let me run and change, and we’ll shop and get lunch.” And I’ll read Ruby’s letter. She whoops, dancing her way to the stairs. “Two-hour limit,” I add before she gets it in her mind we’ll be at the mall all day.
“Two’s better than none.”
***
Ruby’s going to prom stag. I’m smiling. It can’t be suppressed, even after three hours of shopping.
“I should go back and get that pink top, maybe the skirt, too.”
“Mmmhmm.” Amber’s contemplated her purchases, and lack of, throughout our entire lunch.
“Is it too much? Did I spend too much? Is that why you’re being so quiet?”
“I’m not being quiet for any particular reason.” In truth, Ruby is on my mind. Her letter. Her grand jetés. Her understanding of my feelings. Her sweet smile in the picture she sent. I clear my throat. “And no, it’s not too much. We have the money, you know that.”
“But,” she bites her lip, her brows dipping down with concern, “how much?”
Money and budgets. I hate talking about them, and Amber doesn’t typically consider our financial standing. Sitting forward, I consider my answer. Telling a girl, especially Amber, she has an unlimited amount of income could be dangerous. Not that it’s truly unlimited. We’re not rich, but Mom and Dad took care of us.
“If you want to talk budget, I can show you the files.”
“Yuck. Those spreadsheets Gram and the lawyers came up with? You know I hate all that stuff.” She gags.
“At some point you’re gonna have to know these things.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head as a smile creeps up. “I’m going to marry a rich man so money doesn’t matter, and until then, I’ve got you to keep me on track.”
“You’re funny.” She’s kidding. Or I think she’s kidding. Her tongue darts out as she winks.
“You know I’m much too independent to let a guy take care of me. Even if he is rich,” she teases with a peal of laughter. The sound is musical, the Amber from before Mom and Dad died. I wish she came around more often.
“Spill the beans, and tell me about you and Hope.” I shake my head. “C’mon, she won’t tell me anything. Are you serious about her? What are these big plans you’re making for prom?”
“Tell me about you and Travis,” I counter. Other than a few weeks ago in the parking lot, they’re never together.
Her head shakes again. “We’re friends, that’s all, but you and Hope—”
She drags out Hope’s name, waiting for me to finish her sentence for her. “—Are none of your business.” I will not give her information she will merely turn around and share with Hope. I’m still trying to figure out my feelings for her. I’m still trying to figure out a way to stop superimposing a redhead with a cute little nose ring onto Hope’s body when I think of her.
***
Ruby,
Amber bribed me into shopping today. FIVE hours! Funny thing is, I enjoyed it. I’ve apparently lost my mind. Actually, I enjoyed spending the day with my sister. She wasn’t wasted, wasn’t hitting on loser guys, and wasn’t moody and temperamental. It was a good day.
Speaking of good days, I received your letter about your prom plans. Running on the beach in prom dresses sounds like something girls enjoy doing. I guess it’s a cool plan. Ha! I have no idea. I’d love to take to the snow on my board in my tux and carve out some wicked runs. Very 007 of me, huh? Our prom is next Saturday and I’m putting together a super cheesy date for Hope (it was a promise I made, kind of jokingly).
I give Ruby all of the details for the night. Reading the itinerary makes me excited for the night to get here. Almost. I toss the disloyal thought aside. I am excited. I’m excited to see Hope in her blue dress. I’m excited to see the way her eyes light up when she discovers my plans. I return to the letter.
As for dreams and Broadway. How will you ever know if you never try? I’ll tell you a secret. I’d like to board professionally. My parents supported my skiing and snowboarding, but they were clear—college comes first. That was their rule. Since the plane crash I’ve thought more about my passions and future. Cole became a doctor, like our dad. That was my plan, once. Then the crash happened and now following in his footsteps isn’t as important as following my own. So I changed majors from pre-med to marketing. You’re the first person I’ve told. I wish I had my parents here to talk about this with. I wish I could feel my Dad’s hand on my shoulder as he gives me advice, one more time.
I’d like to design boards someday—what would he think? He loved my art. My walls are covered in colorful sketches. Maybe someday my art will be under some pros feet when they win a medal! Wouldn’t that be cool? I’m going to keep dreaming of these things in hope they come true. You should too (about dancing on Broadway, not my designs!).
—Dreamer Brett
P.S. Ska music? Very unexpected.
P.P.S. My pet peeve, rude people. Would it hurt to say thank you, excuse me, or to hold a door open? I hate when people think of nothing but themselves and can’t be polite to others. Now your turn! Favorite movie?
I finish my letter and fold the plane.
This plane is for the loss of a mentor. The loss of a guiding hand to listen to my dreams and help me figure them out.
I pull out my colored pencils and go to work coloring the plane to resemble a tropical island. The make-believe tropical island Ruby once suggested our parents are on. Will she understand the drawing when she sees it?
The alarm clock reads midnight. California is three hours behind. Ruby’s arriving to the dance after dinner. Or maybe she’s taking pictures and laughing with friends. More than likely she’s dancing with some guy who thin
ks she’s gorgeous in her fancy dress and fancy hair.
ALL THAT SHE WANTS
Ruby
SATURDAY, MAY 1
You have NO idea how much I like your nose ring.
I. Can’t. Stop. Thinking. About. That. Letter.
Kamry is doing my hair and all I can think is . . . he likes my nose ring. A lot, apparently. My stomach flutters uncontrollably.
Kamry paints on my makeup, and I picture Brett saying, “You’re a cool chick, Ruby.” No one has ever said anything like that to me before.
Kamry helps to zip up the back of my dress, and my body covers in goose bumps at the thought of Brett wanting me to hold his hand while he gets a tattoo.
Kamry steps back and I peer at myself in the mirror. I can’t help but imagine Brett beside me. How tall would he be next to me? Are we the same height? Would I come to his chest? Maybe he’d tower over me. I don’t know. I think maybe we’d fit together nicely. My head would rest perfectly on his shoulder.
What am I doing? I need to stop letting my imagination run wild. Brett is obviously a flirt. He has Hope, and they have a history and a future. I have letters that will someday fade away.
***
While everyone is showing up to prom in limos and party buses, Valerie’s dad let us take his ‘61 Lincoln Continental Convertible. But not before telling us the outcome of our lives depends on us bringing the car back in one piece. Valerie was so concerned she drove five miles under the speed limit all the way to the dance.
As the four of us walk into the hotel, Mitchell, Kelby, and Trevor walk in together in their black tuxes—without dates. Apparently stag is the thing to do tonight. When the three of them see us, Mitchell makes a beeline for me.
“May I have this dance?”
It’s the last dance I’ll ever go to. And while Mitchell broke my heart, he always respected me. “Why not?”
As we sway to the slow song, he says, “You know . . . UC Berkeley and UC Davis are only about an hour away from each other.”
With a shake of my head, I snort. “Mitchell, you don’t actually want to get back together.”
“I don’t?”
“No.” I smile. “You saw me with Jimmy. It made you jealous, but that doesn’t mean we’re supposed to get back together.”
“It doesn’t? Are you sure?” There’s teasing in his tone.
I release a breath of laughter. “I’m positive. But we can be friends again.”
“I could accept that.”
“Work things out with Lisabeth. You guys are really cute together.”
“I don’t know if she’ll forgive me.”
“You won’t know unless you try.”
The four of us girls leave prom about an hour early and drive forty-five minutes to Half Moon Bay. Kamry brought her camera with her and snaps pictures of us dancing and running along the shore in the dark. It’s such a frivolous thing to do, but I don’t care. If my mom isn’t running along the beach of some exotic, deserted island, the least I can do is run for her.
I really wish Brett were here.
I find myself wishing that often and I haven’t figured out what it means yet.
TUESDAY, MAY 4
Focused on my homework, I tune out the TV, stretch my legs across the couch, and tighten my grip on my pencil. Finals are coming up in a couple weeks, and I need to ace them all. Mom always said she could tell when I was studying because my eyes would squint behind my reading glasses and my hand would clench my pencil so tightly she thought it would break.
“Ruby?”
I hardly hear him, but I respond, “Yeah, Dad?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you got a scholarship to NYU?”
The pencil falls to the floor. My heart sinks. How did he find out? Did he find the letter? He wasn’t supposed to find that! I thought I tucked it away in my nightstand drawer. Was he snooping in my room?
I shift around and see him standing behind the love seat with my scholarship loosely between his fingertips, like it could fall out of his hand at any moment. “Where did you get that?”
“That’s not important, Ruby. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“Because I only wanted to see if I could get in,” I lie.
“You would’ve needed to audition and apply for a scholarship. If you didn’t want to go, why pursue it so seriously?”
“I told you, I wanted to know I could.”
Dad comes around the love seat and sits on the side closest to me—Mom’s side. “Ruby, if this is about me, I’m fine.”
“It’s not, Dad.”
“I don’t believe you. It’s been your dream since you were twelve to go to New York. You only changed after . . .” He swallows, choked up. “After we lost Mom.”
“What would you do? I’d never be able to check in on you. I’d come home, what, on holidays? In between semesters? All I can picture is you making inedible meals and sitting alone at the kitchen table. Or worse, becoming so depressed again you stop eating altogether.”
He exhales, shaking his head with a look of regret. “Roo,” he utters. “Sweetheart, is that what’s holding you back? Honey, I’m fine. Sure, I miss her. Yes, it makes me sad all the time. But I’m okay. I know I wasn’t myself in the beginning, and I’m so sorry.” His head bows. “This is my fault. You’ve had to grow up too quickly, take on too much responsibility. I should’ve tried harder after we lost her.”
“Dad, stop. I get it.” I can’t stop my tears. “Don’t blame yourself. I had Nana. I’m fine. You were allowed to have the time you needed. I know if we didn’t have Nana you never would’ve gotten as bad as you did.”
Dad reaches across and takes my hand. “I don’t want you giving up on your dreams because of me. I don’t want you worrying about me. It’s my job to worry. Our roles shouldn’t reverse. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you. You’re going to NYU.”
“Dad . . .”
“I have Nana. You think she’d ever leave me alone or let me starve? Heck, she’d probably move in. You know how much she’d love to take care of her baby boy again?”
We chuckle. It’s so true.
“I want you to go, Ruby. This is an opportunity of a lifetime. Mom would come back to haunt you if she knew you gave this up.”
I rub the back of my hand under my runny nose and smile. “I know.”
“You have a week to respond. If you don’t respond by Monday, I’m doing it for you.”
I leap off the couch and hug him. My books and binders fall onto the carpet. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too, Roo. So much. I’m so proud of you.”
I can’t think of anything else. When I let go of Dad, I rush upstairs to my stationary to write to Brett.
WHAT IS LOVE
Brett
SATURDAY, MAY 8
Senior Prom. Amber swears every girl dreams of two days in her life: her wedding and her prom. I don’t know how true this is, but it sure does kick my pulse into gear thinking about the expectations I need to fulfill tonight.
I button my dress shirt. How did I end up here?
I tuck the ends into my pants and fasten them. Prom was supposed to be about having fun, going to a party, riding in a limo with my friends.
I slide the black cummerbund around my waist. Now, I’m romancing Hope.
Hope.
My hands run through my hair for the twentieth time. I’m like a girl tonight. Why are my palms sweaty?
Hope is special. She’s sweet, beautiful, fun . . . I straighten my bow tie. Tonight could change everything. My eyes fall on the unopened striped envelope resting on my desk. Tonight is about Hope and I, Ruby has to wait until tomorrow.
I leave the house, prepared to show Hope the most romantic night of her life. I hate that part of me longs to turn around and read the letter. Part of me rebels at the idea of Hope and me.
I push Ruby out of my head with the help of WROC and some class
ic rock, and by the time I pull up the White’s drive, my nerves are calm and I’m eager to see my date. The limo for the rest of the crew sits along the curb, ready to pick up Amber. She’s standing on the porch with Travis, her white and gold dress glowing in the late afternoon sun as they pose for pictures.
Halfway up the brick path, I stop and stare. My sister is beautiful. She’s smiling, she’s laughing, she’s . . . my throat closes. Mom and Dad should be here for this. I didn’t understand why Amber insisted on going to Hope’s to get ready today. Mrs. White tucks a strand of Amber’s hair away as she hands her a little purse and whispers what I can only assume are motherly words of advice about the night. I get it. Amber wanted a mother figure for this night, and Mrs. White is the closest one she has.
“I thought my date was the best looking, obviously I was wrong,” Amber calls, propping her hands at her hips. Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears as she studies me. Travis chuckles at her side, his face playing at being offended, but he’s not. He’s a good guy.
I haul her in for a hug. “You are the most beautiful date a guy could have, Am. Don’t tell Hope though, okay? She wouldn’t handle the diss as well as Travis.” Amber shudders and I squeeze tighter. “Don’t you dare cry and ruin all that make-up.”
She draws back, composing herself. “The others are inside.”
I greet Mrs. White and walk into the house where Mike, Derek, Lisa, and Ann are standing in the living room with Hope’s dad. The girls fawn over each other, while the guys tug at their restricting tuxes.
Paper Planes and Other Things We Lost Page 15
