“But—”
“I tried to be friends with this group of girls in my honors classes, but they never invite me to anything. One time I invited them to a study group at my house and I even made cupcakes. But no one came, and then I saw all these Instagram pictures of them hanging out together at the mall. Can you believe it?”
I shake my head, trying to get a word in, but she’s on a tear, not paying any attention to the huge glops of ketchup now soaking her paper plate.
“It’s not like I wanted to go to the mall anyway. I mean, I don’t think I’d want to go to the mall, but it would have been nice to be invited, you know? And this summer I invited Annalise and Mallory to go swimming, but they never even replied, and—”
“Ruby—”
“Maybe there’s something wrong with me, like maybe I’ll never have friends. Maybe—”
“Ruby! Hey!” I gently grab her. “It’s okay.”
She freezes, her golden-brown eyes meeting mine across the picnic table. “Oh, crap on a Ritz cracker,” she whispers.
And then I can’t help it—maybe it’s the frayed nerves from my own impending freak-out, or that Ruby’s finally rendered herself speechless, or maybe it’s because it’s so hot my float is now just a soupy mix of root beer and congealed ice cream, or maybe it’s just the simple reality that this girl across from me cusses more creatively than anyone I’ve ever met before—I feel a laugh building in me.
I cover my mouth.
Ruby’s eyes are wide, and I shake my head. It’s like the time Charlie farted in the middle of our great-aunt’s funeral and he and I got totally inappropriate giggles—the laughter is a force of its own, rising up, unstoppable and enormous and invincible.
“Crap on a Ritz cracker?” I ask, giggling.
She nods.
“That is amazing,” I manage to eke out.
“Really?” Ruby asks, her grin starting to grow.
“I liked it,” I say, gasping for breath, “when you called Finn a crap bird too.”’
She giggles. “It’s pretty good, right?”
Tears stream out of my eyes, and I clutch my chest.
“I’ve also called him a turd burglar,” she says, half shy, half proud.
This elicits a whole new round of laughter from me, and then Ruby joins in.
“And a fartmeister,” she says, giggling.
“Stop,” I say. “I can’t.”
“And His Royal Pain in the Ass, High Prince of Finn-land.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “That doesn’t even make any sense!” I drop my head on the table, burying my head in my hands, my shoulders shaking. I haven’t laughed so hard since Em left, maybe even longer, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until right this second.
When I finally lift my head, Ruby’s wiping tears off her face too, and I’m pretty sure they’re happy.
Before I can think twice about it, I reach my hand across the table and give hers a quick squeeze. “Those girls are garbage people.”
“You think?” she asks, and her face is so vulnerable that I make a decision right then and there.
“Listen, my friend Emerson told me once that she wished I could like myself as much as she likes me.”
Ruby sighs. “She sounds like a good friend.”
“She is,” I say, thinking again of how much I miss her and trying to ignore the twinge of guilt that comes from the fact that I haven’t written her back since the day she told me to tell my parents about the internship, that I haven’t really wanted to. “That’s what friends do—they remind you of who you are underneath all the stuff people believe about you, all that stuff you believe about yourself.”
“I need friends like that,” Ruby half whispers, and then she flinches. “Oh gosh, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
I remember when I first met Em. It was the summer before second grade, and even though Finn had been gone for months and I had some friends, I still missed him. But then in July, Matty’s aunt Marly and his cousin Emerson moved to town, so Matty started bringing Em when he came to hang out with Charlie. Em was mouthy and wild and had a laugh that made me nervous, but she also wanted to see my dollhouse. She made me a beaded friendship bracelet with my name misspelled (Parer) because she couldn’t find a K. She invited me to a real sleepover. And on the first day of school, she sat with me at lunch. There wasn’t even a question—Em had picked me.
I realize now that Ruby needs what I needed back then.
She needs someone to pick her back.
“I’m glad we met,” I say.
“Really?”
“Yes. Cross my heart.”
She straightens, using a napkin to dry her face, and then stretches her drink out to me. “To being friends!”
“We’re toasting?”
“I don’t know if you know, but ancient legend has it that a toast on a Cherry Coke and a root-beer float means your friendship will weather every storm.”
I laugh. “Really?”
“Yes. And also, Cherry Coke makes everything better.”
I don’t think I’ve ever toasted with a root-beer float before, but then again, I don’t think I’ve ever been friends with someone as openhearted as Ruby before. And I’m starting to realize I need her as much as she needs me.
“Friends,” I say.
Her big eyes dart to something over my shoulder, and she scowls.
“Ugh. He’s back.”
I look over my shoulder to see Johnny’s rusty blue Datsun pulling into a spot at the far edge of the parking lot. My stomach tightens. Ruby looks over her shoulder and nods to Fred, who’s also glaring at Johnny’s car from behind the counter.
“You going to call?” she hollers.
He nods, shuffles back into the kitchen.
“Call?” I ask.
“The cops. We don’t want Johnny dealing in our lot. Fred’s niece is on the force, and anytime we see Johnny here and Finn isn’t working, Fred calls his niece, who’s always happy to stop by for a free root-beer float.”
I must look confused.
“Finn made us swear not to call the cops on his brother, but Fred and I figure offering his niece food isn’t exactly calling the cops on his brother. It just gets them here, and Johnny always leaves as soon as he sees the police car.”
I’m afraid of the answer, but I ask anyway. “Why doesn’t Finn want you to call the cops on his brother? Is he involved in all that drug stuff too?”
Ruby’s quick to shake her head. “Oh God, no. Finn hates it. But Johnny’s gotten two strikes already, and a third strike means major jail time. Finn doesn’t want that for him. I guess at the end of the day, they’re still brothers.”
Right then, a police car pulls into the lot.
“Wow, that was fast.”
“The station’s right around the corner. They could walk, but Fred and I think the car looks more intimidating.”
At this point, Johnny’s already pulling out of his spot, but as he drives by Ruby and me, he slows his car and leans out the window.
“Hey there, Parker,” he says, smacking his lips and making a kissing noise. “Here to see your boyfriend Finn? Can’t get enough of the Casper brothers, huh?”
I shudder, but Ruby doesn’t hesitate, immediately flipping up both her middle fingers.
Johnny laughs as he drives away.
Ruby turns to me. “What was that all about?”
“It’s no big deal,” I lie, trying to ignore the way my heart is scrambling for safety inside me.
“Parker, that wasn’t nothing. It was super creepy.”
“I knew him when we were kids. It’s really nothing. I’m sure if I ignore him, he’ll just go away.” I realize as I say it that I’m trying to convince myself as much as I am her.
Ruby looks unsatisfied with my answer, but I lean forward. “Can we have lunch again, maybe tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she says, grinning, and the smile I return feels like my first genuine one in ages.
Twenty-Nine
MAYBE IT’S THE FACT that the meager air-conditioning at Carla’s is no match for the day’s humidity, especially with the kiln blazing in the basement. Or maybe it’s an effect of their ride over with the new bus driver, who all the ladies think drives too fast. Whatever the reason, when the Wild Meadows crew arrives the next afternoon, Carla lasts about thirty seconds before shooting me a sympathetic look and fleeing back downstairs.