I’m sorry about my last e-mail. I was mad at my mom and I took it out on you. There is NO WAY I want you to get another pen pal. You’re the best pen pal, and you’re the only person I can talk to.
I had to do a campaign event with my mom yesterday. It was the Allison Springs Businesswomen’s Association Mother-Daughter Leadership Luncheon so there was no way I could get out of it. I told my mom I didn’t want to go, because I am no longer supporting her candidacy. She asked me to please come because it would be “awkward” if I didn’t.
I told my mom I would go but that I wasn’t going to put on a dress for her or for anyone else. I wore my plaid pants and a T-shirt that Mrs. Morgan gave me that said, ASK ME ABOUT MY FEMINIST AGENDA. This T-shirt is a joke, but it’s hard to explain, and honestly, I’m not even sure that it’s all that funny of a joke.
Mom didn’t argue about my outfit. She said, “You look cool.”
I said, “It was what I was sleeping in.”
The luncheon was in the ballroom of a Holiday Inn, and it was like a crappy wedding basically. Delilah Stuart from my class was there, and she pretended to be nice to me, because adults were around.
Delilah Stuart said, “Nice T-shirt.”
I said, “Thank you.” She said “nice” but she meant the opposite. Delilah Stuart is the worst.
Delilah Stuart said, “What’s it supposed to mean?”
I gave her EYES OF DRAGON FIRE. I said, “It means that I am a girl and a human and I care about women’s rights. You can borrow it sometime if you want.”
My mom was busy, and I sat down at the long banquet table, and I ate a dinner roll. The dinner roll was hard but I still ate it. I tore it apart with my teeth and imagined it was Delilah Stuart’s face. Mom gave a speech, and I periodically rolled my eyes, but I tried not to make it too obvious. But come on! She kept saying dumb politician words like “honesty” and “integrity.”
After the speeches were over, I went to the bathroom, and when I left, Mrs. Morgan was waiting for me. “Ruby Young, what is wrong? You seem sour as curdled milk today.”
“I’m tired,” I said. I DID NOT want to lie to Mrs. Morgan. That was the crappy thing about having a liar for a mother. It was turning me into a liar, too.
Mrs. Morgan petted me on the head, like I was a dog. She said, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I said, “There isn’t anything to talk about.”
Mrs. Morgan said, “Campaigns can be hard.”
I said, “It’s a dumb little mayor’s race, in a dumb little town. It’s not president. What difference does it make who wins?”
Mrs. Morgan said, “That’s a very cynical point of view, and I know there are some people who feel that way. But I don’t think that, and I know your mom doesn’t think that. I’ve lived here my entire life, just like you, and I love this dumb little town, and even if it’s not a presidential race, I think it matters very much who wins it. That’s why I’m backing your mother.”
I didn’t say anything.
Mrs. Morgan said, “May I guess what’s bothering you?”
“It’s a free country,” I said.
“It’s been you and your mom against the world for a very long time, and now there are so many other people in your lives. Maybe you don’t want to share her?”
I shook my head. I hated that Mrs. Morgan thought I was so petty. I wanted to tell her what I knew, but I couldn’t betray my mom that way. “That isn’t it,” I said.
“It’s something though?”
I bit my lip. “It’s nothing.”
“All right, Miss Ruby. You come and see me if you ever want to talk. You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I’m very old and I’m very wise.”
I’ve been thinking about it, Fatima. Maybe I should tell Mrs. Morgan the truth? I know it would be betraying my mom, but I also think Mrs. Morgan’s right. If it does matter who runs Allison Springs, maybe people should know who my mom really is.
Your Friend (I Hope),
Ruby
To: “Fatima” [email protected]
From: “Ruby”
[email protected]
Date: October 28
Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: 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,
I decided to ignore your advice. I think a friendship doesn’t mean that you have to always agree with a person or always do what they say, do you?
I told Mrs. Morgan.
It was hard to get Mrs. Morgan alone. When she is at our house, she is always with my mom. I couldn’t take an Uber to Mrs. Morgan’s mansion, because she has five corgis, and I am allergic to dogs. A “corgi” is a “very fluffy dachshund.” A “dachshund” is “a stretched out version of a regular dog.” The queen of England also has corgis and that is why some people call Mrs. Morgan “the queen of Allison Springs.”
I went to go see her at the Allison Springs Cryer, which is the newspaper she owns and which is three streets over from my mom’s office. She has an office there, but a man with a mustache said, “Ha! Mrs. Morgan never comes into the office.” I realized at that moment that I had a new pet peeve. My new pet peeve is people who say “ha” instead of “laughing.”
I did not like his “tone.” I answer the phones for my mom, and I would never say something like that to a client or to a stranger or to anyone else. You would think a grown-up man would understand how to greet people. I said, “Mrs. Morgan is your boss, and you shouldn’t say things like that to strangers.”
The man said, “You’re not a stranger. You’re the kid of Jane Young, the future mayor of our fine burg.”
I said, “What you should say is, ‘Mrs. Morgan isn’t here right now. Would you like me to tell her you stopped by?’ ”
The man said, “Well, sure, I was going to get to that. Also, I’m not her assistant. I’m the editor in chief.”
“But Mrs. Morgan is still your boss,” I said.
“Technically, yes,” he said. He reshaped the ends of his mustache.
“What’s an editor in chief?” I said.
“It’s someone who comes into the office every day,” he said.
I do not like when someone answers a perfectly good question that way.
Finally, I sent Mrs. Morgan a text message (We need to meet ASAP and IN PRIVATE. This Text Is for Your Eyes Only), and she said we could meet at her office in an hour, which means the man with the mustache was wrong. Mrs. Morgan does sometimes go to her office.
At her office, Mrs. Morgan said, “What’s so urgent, Rubes? What’s so secret?”
I opened my mouth and then I closed it. It was hard to say the words.
Mrs. Morgan said, “I’m starving. Do you want to go to Clara’s? Confessions go down better on a full stomach.”
Clara’s is my favorite restaurant, and Mrs. Morgan is one of the owners. My favorite thing to eat at Clara’s is the corn chowder. My other favorite thing to eat at Clara’s is the chicken pot pie. I was hungry, but I was also a little sick. I said, “I would rather do it right here.”
“Do what?” Mrs. Morgan said. Her eyes grew very wide and interested. “What are we doing?”
I said, “I need to tell you something.”