Ruby in the Sky

by Jeanne Zulick Ferruolo

  I wrote so fast and hard that I almost didn’t hear the engine grind its way up the driveway. I ran to the door, anxious to tell Mom about Abigail and how we needed to stop the mayor from locking her up.

  But as I yanked the door open, I saw that it wasn’t Mom’s Fiesta.

  “Cecy?” I said when she cut the engine. “What are you doing here?”

  Cecy opened her door. She wasn’t wearing her sour-milk face. She’d been crying.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  Cecy shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ruby.”

  The peach pit twisted in my throat. “What?”

  “The jury found your mom guilty.”

  CHAPTER

  17

  Sometimes people disappear. One minute they’re there, then poof, like a magic trick, they’re gone.

  Sometimes you wake one morning, expecting to see your dad at the kitchen table like he is every morning after working the overnight shift, still in his uniform, sipping coffee and hovering over the puzzle section you pieced together the night before. Until one morning you get up and there is only Mom in her bathrobe, opening the door to two police officers who hand her his badge and wedding ring and won’t stop saying, We’re sorry, Dahlia. We are so very sorry.

  That night, the night he disappeared, as my dad’s shift was ending, a call came asking an officer to respond to a robbery in progress. He didn’t have to go, but he did anyway. That was his job.

  My dad was a quiet man. He was brave. But the kid robbing the pizza delivery guy that night didn’t care. He took my dad’s life for twenty-seven dollars.

  That was two years ago.

  They say kids don’t remember details when really bad stuff happens, but I remember everything from that morning.

  I remember the smell of burned toast and the drops of rain coming in the open window. I remember the wet curtains and I remember that no matter how hard I tried to tug the window shut, it wouldn’t budge. I remember how Mom tried to fill Dad’s empty ring with her finger. I remember how it just kept slipping off.

  Maybe it was because I was soaking from the rain or because Mom wouldn’t help me close that window, but I cried hard then. I cried and I screamed even though I didn’t really understand what had happened or that I’d never get to see my dad again.

  I cried and cried until Mom yelled at me to stop. And then I never cried again.

  My dad was a quiet man. I liked his quiet. I liked how we understood each other without words. He always knew which book I wanted to read or what TV show I wanted to watch. No matter how loud the world got, my dad held me. Wordless and safe.

  People like quiet, I thought. My dad liked quiet.

  Quiet keeps people from disappearing.

  Only, it didn’t.

  CHAPTER

  18

  Cecy glanced at her watch. “It’s four o’clock now. Why don’t I drop you off at Rucki’s? You need to be at the school at five to get ready for the Wax Museum, right?”

  I stared at Cecy. Did she really think I was still going?

  She stepped into Mom’s room and came out with a handful of clothes. She found an empty bag and put them in it.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Your mom wanted me to grab some things before they bring her to the women’s prison.”

  “Mom’s still at the courthouse?”

  Cecy opened the door. “If they haven’t taken her yet.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “I’m sorry, Ruby. You can’t.”

  “Please, Cecy. I have to.”

  * * *

  Sitting next to Cecy on a bench outside the courtroom, I felt the scratchy peach pit rise and lower inside my throat. But no matter how hard I swallowed, it wouldn’t go away.

  Annie walked up to us. “Well, I’ve been meeting with the judge in chambers,” she said. “This isn’t over yet.”

  “What do you mean?” Cecy said. “The jury found Dahlia guilty and the judge sentenced her to twenty days in jail.”

  I shivered when I heard the sentence. Even though it could have been a year, even one day was too much.

  “Yes,” Annie said. “But you know me. I’ve got a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

  I wanted to ask what tricks she could possibly have left, but the peach pit wouldn’t let me.

  “Ruby was hoping she could see her mom,” Cecy said.

  Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ruby. They don’t let the public into the lockup.”

  I strained my voice, willing it to speak. “Please, Annie,” I whispered.

  Annie bit her lip. “Let me see what I can do.”

  * * *

  A court officer brought me into a tiny room, where I sat on a hard metal stool. The space was so small, Cecy couldn’t fit in there with me. The room was separated from another room on the lockup side by a window that had metal wire running through it. Even with the glass barrier, I could hear shouting and banging going on back there.

  Another officer brought my mom into the room on the lockup side. Chains clanged with each step. She was still wearing the dress she went to court in, but someone had taken her shoes and jewelry. Now her hands were cuffed. She sat on a metal stool opposite me. Her eyes were red and swollen.

  “Oh, Ruby,” she said. “I’m—”

  Seeing Mom like that made the peach pit in my throat grow and grow and grow. I tried to swallow it back, but instead it exploded into a million tears, erupting and streaming down my face like lava from a volcano. For the first time in two years I cried. Not just regular tears, but big, heaving, hiccupping, sloppy sobs.

  I cried for my mom, chained like an animal. Punished for speaking up. I cried for myself, abandoned again. And finally, finally, I cried for my dad, and how I missed him so much it hurt my insides every single day.

  Tears streamed down my face. I opened my mouth to talk, but only choking sounds came out. I cried so hard my whole body shook.

  Mom pressed her shackled hands together against the window. “Shhh, Ruby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  I lifted my hands against the glass so it almost looked like we were touching.

  An officer peered in, probably checking to see what all the noise was about, but when he saw us, he pursed his lips and walked away.

  We sat there, Mom and me, crying two years of sadness, until there were no tears left. I tried to talk again, but instead my whole body hiccupped.

  Mom’s head fell forward. “I’ve ruined everything.”

  I peered at her through blurry eyes.

  “You were right, Ruby.” She shook her head. “Speaking up didn’t change anything. It just got me in more trouble.”

  My skin prickled.

  “Keep your head down. Keep your mouth shut. That’s how it’s going to be from now on,” she said. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “But you couldn’t let them get away with it,” I said. “You had to tell the truth.”

  She lowered her cuffed hands. “As soon as this is over we’ll leave Fortin. I’ll be a different person, Ruby. We’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

  I stared at her. It was what I had wanted her to say ever since we got to Vermont. But it didn’t make me feel the way I’d thought it would.

  Mom sniff led. “I miss Dad so much. Moving to all those cities where we had gone on vacation—I thought that would take away some of the hurt. But it didn’t.” She shook her head. “And now this. I should have kept my big mouth shut.”

  “You had to tell your side of the story.”

  Mom wiped her face with her shoulder. “Didn’t do us much good, did it?”

  But as I sat there in that tiny room, I knew that it had.

  “The Wax Museum is tonight,” she said.

  I bit my lip.

  “You don’t have to do it, Ruby. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She lifted her chin. “But you know what?” She smiled. “You would have made a great Michael Collins.”

  But I’m not like Mi
chael Collins, I thought. You are. Michael Collins is brave.

  “You’ll have to stay at Cecy’s while I’m…” Her words trailed off.

  The court officer opened the door on Mom’s side. “They need you back in court, ma’am.”

  I waited for Mom to say something else. Anything else. But her words seemed to have dried up with her tears.

  As the officer led her away, her gaze fell to the floor and her bangs covered her face.

  * * *

  After Mom left, I sat there, breathing uneven breaths.

  It was wrong. Everything. Not just Mom going to jail but the way they lied and got away with it.

  “My mom stood up,” I said to no one. “She wins.” Then I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve and stepped outside.

  Cecy was waiting. “You are a wet, hot mess,” she said as she handed me a tissue.

  I blew my nose. “Cecy,” I said.

  “Mmmm-hmmm?”

  “Are you going home now?”

  “Annie just went back into court. She wants to talk to me when she’s done.”

  I started to reach for Mom’s necklace, then remembered I’d left it at Abigail’s. “Can you take me to Rucki’s first? Ahmad has my stuff for the Wax Museum.”

  Cecy looked at her watch. “If we hurry, I think we have time.”

  * * *

  Cecy dropped me at Rucki’s, anxious to get back to the courthouse.

  “You’ll be at the Wax Museum when it starts at six, right, Cecy?” I asked.

  The clock on her car read five o’clock. “I’ll do my best.”

  The bell rang as I opened the door to Rucki’s. Ahmad emerged from the back wearing his Neil Armstrong space suit. He handed me my index cards and costume. “Hello, Michael Collins! Are you ready for the moon?”

  I hiccupped loudly.

  “Are you okay, Ruby?” Ahmad asked.

  “Oh, good, Ruby, you are here!” Mr. Saleem said. “We are already late.” He limped to the window and flipped the sign to CLOSED.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” I whispered.

  Mr. Saleem looked at his watch.

  “Quickly, Ruby,” Ahmad called as I dashed off.

  In the bathroom, I stared at my image in the mirror. My face looked pale and thin. My hair, a knotty mess. There were dark circles under my eyes.

  I can’t do this, I thought. I can’t speak in front of all those strangers. I can’t even speak in front of my sixth-grade class. I stared at the index cards in my hand. The smiley face next to where Mr. Andrews had written Excellent research! stared back.

  Everyone I knew had left me. First Dad, then Abigail, and now Mom. Even Cecy wouldn’t be there.

  “Ruby, we must hurry!” Ahmad called.

  Without looking back, I tossed the index cards in the garbage. I would not need them tonight.

  * * *

  Backstage, behind the closed curtain, a nervous buzzing surrounded me. I was almost excited until I remembered I wasn’t part of it. I was there but not there. I tried to look invisible as Mr. Andrews approached.

  “Great costume, Ruby! Let’s see it with the helmet on.”

  I put the giant cardboard helmet on my head. Although it made it harder to breathe, it was easier to hide.

  “Awesome! I am so proud of you, Ruby. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I can’t wait to hear your performance tonight. The crowd is going to love Michael Collins but they are going to love Ruby Hayes even more!”

  I turned away.

  “Oh wait, I almost forgot.” Mr. Andrews handed me a padded envelope. “Someone left this here for you.” The envelope read: URGENT for Ruby Moon Hayes.

  “Help! Mr. Andrews! My costume isn’t staying together!”

  “Hold on, Sophia, I’ll be right there.” Mr. Andrews placed the package in my hand and strode off.

  I removed my helmet and opened the envelope. A hard object fell into my palm. As I turned it over, I saw that it was a small gray rock encased in glass. The rock looked like something you’d find in someone’s driveway, except attached to the bottom of the glass was a gold plaque. It read:

  THIS FRAGMENT OF ROCK WAS GATHERED AT THE SEA OF TRANQUILITY OF THE MOON. IT IS GIVEN TO ABIGAIL JACOBS IN GREAT APPRECIATION OF HER CONTRIBUTION TO THE SPACE PROGRAM. FROM THE ASTRONAUTS OF APOLLO 11—NEIL ARMSTRONG, BUZZ ALDRIN, MICHAEL COLLINS

  Right then, a warmth spread through my body. I scrambled to the edge of the stage and peeked around the curtain. In the auditorium, people greeted each other and took their seats. I scanned the audience, but there was no Abigail.

  I clenched the rock in my fist, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I was actually holding a piece of the moon. The real moon.

  “Places, people!” Mr. Andrews bellowed. The lights flashed and went dark as everyone got into the positions they would hold until the spotlight hit them. The dull roar of the audience filled my ears.

  Bright red letters flashed EXIT over the outside door. They pulled me toward them like a moth toward a light. I pushed the door open a crack, feeling the clear, cold February night on my face. This is it, I thought. I can walk away right now.

  But something made me glance back at the stage, where my classmates stood frozen in their poses. In the shadow of the curtain, they really did look like a museum of wax statues.

  I turned toward the frozen air. That’s when I saw the moon—giant and glowing. The same moon my dad and I had searched for each night. The same moon Abigail and I had gazed at from the Moon Bench.

  I tried to remember what Abigail had told me would happen next. The moon would disappear in the shadow of Earth and when it reappeared, it would be glowing and red. It would be a Ruby Moon.

  Suddenly, a hand was on my shoulder. “Ruby, come on.” Ahmad stood beside me. He placed the helmet on my head. Then he took my hand and led me toward the stage.

  “I—I can’t, Ahmad.” But the helmet stifled my words. “Ahmad, stop, wait,” I shouted. But Ahmad kept pulling me through the wax figures to the spot marked MICHAEL COLLINS.

  Ahmad took his own place as the curtain slowly opened. I swallowed hard.

  “Remember,” Mr. Andrews whispered, “speak naturally, but have your index cards handy in case you get stuck.”

  I looked at my hands. Empty except for the moon rock.

  As the curtain lifted, the audience went crazy with applause. I found Mr. Saleem right away and he gave me a little wave. Officer Prattle stood by the entrance. Dakota’s dad, Mayor Eton, sat in the front row. No matter how hard I searched, there was no Cecy. No Abigail.

  Cameras flashed. Parents and grandparents waved at their kids. But the wax figures stayed in position, still as statues.

  A microphone lowered from the ceiling. The crowd became silent.

  Mr. Andrews stepped beneath it. “Welcome, everyone, to the Sixth-Grade Wax Museum!” he said. The crowd erupted all over again with applause and whistling.

  “Tonight we will travel through space and time to the far corners of the universe to meet the most fascinating people the world has known. I ask that you hold your applause until the end.” Mr. Andrews went backstage, where he’d control the spotlight. As he walked past me he said, “Relax, Ruby. I’m going to have you go last.”

  The lights dimmed. The spotlight hit Ahmad.

  “My name is Neil Armstrong, and I am the first man to walk on the moon.” It was hard to hear Ahmad over the buzzing in my ears. But from the corner of my visor I watched him wave his arms, his voice raising and lowering. The audience laughed in appreciation. I suddenly felt so proud of my friend, who only two years ago couldn’t speak English.

  Ahmad finished and the spotlight moved on to Dakota. “My name is Diana, Princess of Wales…”

  I hugged myself and scanned the audience. But my arms dropped when I saw the shapeless figure standing alone in the corner. She wore a patched wool coat and was wrapped in so many scarves you couldn’t see her face, but I’d know her anywhere. Abigail had come.

  “My name i
s Sonia Sotomayor and I am the first Hispanic and third woman appointed to the United States Supreme Court…,” I heard Melanie begin. Eventually the spotlight moved to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Bethany Hamilton.

  Abigail raised a hand in a small wave and a warm feeling washed over me like a sunbeam. I exhaled all the air that I had been holding in my lungs.

  As the spotlight jumped around the stage, my heart began to pound so hard I thought my ribs might crack. I turned my head, finding the bright red flashing EXIT sign. It would take only three steps to get offstage.

  But as I looked into the audience, I saw that Abigail had moved closer. She had removed a layer of scarves and stood at the back of the center aisle.

  Right then, a vision of Scrappy popped into my head. Eyes wide but seeing nothing. And I knew that was how Abigail must be feeling as she crept up the aisle. But when she removed her coat and continued forward, she seemed to stand a little taller, just as she had that day in the middle of the snowstorm. Tall as a forest tree.

  Heads turned and neighbors leaned in to each other, whispering, as they became aware of her. But Abigail kept moving toward the stage. Toward me. I watched her remove more scarves. Peeling them away like baseball yarn.

  Mayor Eton motioned to Officer Prattle, who slipped behind her.

  I watched Officer Prattle’s hand shoot out to grab Abigail’s arm, but she stayed out of his reach, her eyes focused on me.

  Even when you can’t see it, courage can be found when you simply stand up.

  That’s what Dad had said. It was the reason Mom went to trial even though she had everything to lose. Maybe it was the one thing she couldn’t stand to lose—the courage to tell her story. Besides her family, that was the biggest thing Abigail had lost.

  The problem comes when you don’t speak at all. Then you’re letting someone else tell your story.

  Maybe it was because she was too lost or too broken. Maybe it was because she was too scared to try—but all that empty space around Abigail had gotten filled with gossip and lies, people pretending to explain something that made no sense. What makes someone as magical as Abigail Jacobs disappear?