“How did you get so wise?”
“Books,” I said. “And I spend a lot of time with my mom.”
“Don’t tell your mom about what we talked about,” she said.
“Okay,” I said. “Which part?”
“The thing that exists in my imagination,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t want her to know. I’d just rather tell her myself.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“Never mind,” she said. “Tell her if you want. I don’t care.”
“Mrs. West,” someone called. “Wes needs you.”
“Good-bye, Ruby,” she said.
“I’ll give Mom your regards,” I said.
I went back to my book. I only read about five pages, and then the debate started.
The debate was very boring for a while, and I was deciding whether it would be rude to read my book. I had already heard the questions, so I knew what she would say before she said it, most of the time. Toward the end, it got a little more exciting, because it was clear that Wes West hadn’t practiced as much as Mom. He kept stumbling over his words, and no one was clapping after he talked, and sometimes people were even booing, and he was very awkward. I could tell he was getting frustrated because at one point, he said, “I’m just worried this town is going in the wrong direction!” And then I saw him say something under his breath. I was too far away to hear what he had said, but somehow the movement of his lips looked familiar to me. It was a word with THREE SYLLABLES.
1st syllable: open mouth
2nd syllable: tighter pursed lips, teeth on lips
3rd syllable: open mouth, same as the first
My mom mouthed, “Franny.” Again, I was reading her lips. But even from a distance, “Franny” made sense because Franny is Wes West’s wife, of course.
In the car on the way back, I asked my mom what Wes West had mouthed to her when they were onstage. She said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
And I said, “The thing you replied ‘Franny’ to.”
She said, “I don’t remember. I think I was asking if Franny had come to the debate.”
That didn’t make sense to me. Why would she ask that onstage in the middle of a debate?
When I was lying in bed, I made my mouth move like Wes West’s had to try to figure out what he had said. UH-BEE-UH. IH-BEE-THUH. OH-TEE-OH. UH-PEE-UH. It seemed so close to me.
I couldn’t sleep so I thought about my mom saying “Franny” instead.
And that made me think about the time Mom and I went with Franny to go wedding dress shopping in New York City.
And that made me think of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
And that made me think of this weird thing that happened there. This old couple came up to my mom and said, “You look like that girl, Aviva Grossman.”
And I always remembered that name, because “Grossman” is a funny last name. I remember that I was glad it wasn’t my last name, because things are bad enough for me at school already.
And just like that, I knew that Wes had said, “UH-VEE-VUH.”
I got out of bed and I googled “Aviva Grossman.”
Here’s what you need to know about “Aviva Grossman”:
She is this dumb girl who had an affair with a married congressman. She kept a “blog” and she became a BIG JOKE in Florida.
“Aviva Grossman” was fatter than my mom and younger than my mom and her hair was curlier than my mom’s.
But really, she looked exactly like my mom.
“Aviva Grossman” was my “mom.”
I went to the bathroom and I threw up.
“Mom” knocked on the door, but I told her to go away. I said, “I think I have the flu. You shouldn’t come in, because you can’t get sick right now.”
She said, “That’s very thoughtful of you, Ruby. But I think I’ll risk it.” She put her hand on the door, and I locked it.
I said, “SERIOUSLY, YOU CAN’T GET SICK! I’m okay. I’m already done throwing up. I just want to wash my face and go to sleep.”
And the next day, I told her I needed to stay home from school, and she let me because she isn’t paying much attention to anything but the election these days. After the debate, Mrs. Morgan said Mom is probably going to win in a landslide.
It’s been five days since the debate, and I’ve been avoiding her. It isn’t that hard because she is always busy, lying to everyone.
That’s why I don’t think my mom should speak to your class. She is not a good role model. She is a BIG liar and a disgrace.
Your Pen Pal,
Ruby
P.S. I guess my last name is “Grossman.”
To: “Fatima” [email protected]
From: “Ruby”
[email protected]
Date: October 18
Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Your American Pen Pal, Friends Around the World Pen Pal Program Dear Fatima,
Thank you for being so understanding about the Skype chat. It’s nice of you to say that we should “reschedule” but I don’t know why you would want to, considering the type of person my mom is.
I haven’t confronted my mom yet. I’m reading everything I can about “Aviva Grossman” first. I don’t want her to be able to tell any more lies.
“Grossman” is a pretty good name for her because she is so “gross.” She did “gross” things with the congressman, who was so old, like forty, and she wrote about them on her blog. The blog is called “Just Another Congressional Intern’s Blog.” Even though she never used his name or her own name, of course people were going to figure it out. Even a sixth grader knows that!
For instance, I’m not going to mention any names, but I know EXACTLY who started the “RUBY YOUNG IS A LOOZER SPAZZ” account. The only reason I don’t turn her in is because it’s better for her just to be scared that she might be found out. Something I have learned about bullies is that it’s good for them to have something to focus on, and that stupid account is good for that, too. Instead of putting ketchup in my hair, or locking me out of the bathroom, or putting dog poop in my locker, they can just post some dumb thing on Instagram, and it satisfies their “making Ruby’s life miserable” urge. My point is, it was actually WORSE for me before the Instagram account.
I started thinking about “Mariano Donatello.”
I know English is not your first language . . . But “Mariano Donatello” DOES NOT sound like a real person’s name.
It sounds like
1. A Ninja Turtle
2. A Character in a Storybook
3. A Porno Actor
4. A Made-Up Name
And duh, my mom is such a liar. Of course, she lied about “Mariano Donatello.” And I was, like, “I’m Italian!”—what an idiot!
And if she lied about “Mariano Donatello,” then she must have had a reason.
And the reason must be because Congressman Aaron Levin is my REAL FATHER.
I googled “Congressman Aaron Levin,” and although he is old, he looks like me. He has greenish eyes and curly hair, and I have green eyes and curly hair.
I wonder if he knows about me.
Your Meaning Twin,
Ruby
P.S. I would rather have the last name LEVIN than GROSSMAN.
P.P.S. I know you’re right, and I need to talk to my mom about all of this . . . I am going to do it soon.
To: “Fatima” [email protected]