Mrs. Morgan said, “Yes, I gathered that.”
Then, I said it. I told her that my mom was Aviva Grossman. I said, “I don’t want you to lose all your money trying to get my mom elected when she is a liar.”
Mrs. Morgan sighed and then her eyes grew soft and she smiled. “Ruby, I already know.”
I said, “What?”
Mrs. Morgan said, “Your mom and I have worked together for years. We’ve planned more than a dozen fund-raisers. Do you think I wouldn’t have looked up some information about her? It wouldn’t be good business for me not to know. I’m very rich and the way a person stays very rich is by protecting her interests.”
I said, “Why did you push her to run for mayor then?”
Mrs. Morgan said, “Because, my Ruby, I don’t think any of what happened matters.”
I said, “But, Mrs. Morgan! Have you read the blog?”
Mrs. Morgan said, “I have.”
I said, “Won’t the people of Allison Springs think you lied to them?”
Mrs. Morgan said, “We haven’t, Ruby. Choosing what to reveal is not the same as lying. Your mom is Jane Young now—”
I interrupted her. “No, she’s not.”
“Yes, she is, Ruby. And that’s all there is to it.”
I said, “I don’t think it’s right that you should decide what the people get to know.”
Mrs. Morgan said, “That’s leadership, Ruby. But if people find out, your mom won’t deny it, and we will deal with it then.”
I said, “So Mom knows you know?”
Mrs. Morgan said, “Not in so many words. But we have an understanding.”
I had to sit down on Mrs. Morgan’s couch. I said, “I’m so confused.”
Mrs. Morgan said, “You were brave to come to me. I know what a lot of guts it took.” She put her hand on my hand.
I looked at her wrinkled fingers. She was wearing a ring in the shape of a leopard. He was gold and had green eyes made from emeralds, and he probably cost more money than I have in my entire bank account, and that is disgusting. I bet she didn’t even like the ring that much when she bought it. I pulled my hand away. “DON’T TELL ME ABOUT GUTS!” I yelled. “I don’t care what you think of me because you are a liar, just like my mom. I never want to see you again.”
I ran out of the office, past that stupid editor in chief with the mustache, and I went to our town house, and now I’m writing this e-mail.
I’m so disappointed in Mrs. Morgan.
How can she NOT care that my mom was a totally other person?
What is wrong with everyone?
Your Pen Pal,
Ruby
P.S. I went to bed without eating and now I am starving and the only thing I can think about is corn chowder. I probably should have gone to Clara’s with Mrs. Morgan, since I am never eating there again in protest.
P.P.S. Mrs. Morgan is wrong. People have a “right to know” who they are voting for.
To: “Fatima” [email protected]
From: “Ruby”
[email protected]
Date: October 31
Re: Re: 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’ve come up with a plan of action. It’s happening so don’t try to “write” me out of it.
1. I am going to Miami to meet Congressman Aaron Levin. If he’s my father, I want to see him and talk to him. If he’s my father, he should know that he has a daughter. If he’s my father, he probably won’t mind if I move to Miami. There is NOTHING for me in Allison Springs.
2. I am going to leave an “anonymous” note for the Allison Springs Cryer about Aviva Grossman. Maybe Mrs. Morgan is right and it doesn’t matter. I think VOTERS deserve to know.
I spent last night researching flights and hotels. It is a little bit harder to travel when you are thirteen.
Luckily, you can do almost anything with a smartphone and a business American Express card and a personal PayPal account and Google and a printer. For example, the airline website has their policies for “unaccompanied minors,” and I had to write a note that said it was “OKAY for me to fly alone and not be met at the gate,” and then I had to forge my mom’s signature. I have been forging my mom’s signature for years, but I have never forged it without her knowing about it.
For the record, I am not stealing money from my mom. I have been very carefully budgeting my trip so that I will not exceed the amount remaining in my bank account, which is $3,770.82.
I also wrote the note for the Allison Springs Cryer. I wrote many drafts, but I decided on: To the Editor in Chief, Allison Springs Cryer—
GOOGLE “AVIVA GROSSMAN”
—A Concerned Citizen
I thought the part with “a concerned citizen” was very good.
I printed my note, and then I put it in a security envelope, and on the way to the airport, I had my airport taxi stop at the newspaper, and I put it in the mail slot there. I tried not to feel like a terrible person, though it was probably the WORST THING I HAVE EVER DONE.
But then I decided I didn’t care. I felt cold as Maine in January. I felt cold as an ice cream brain freeze. Maybe I am a terrible person. Maybe I am a terrible person because that’s what happens when you are LIED to your whole life.
The taxi driver said, “You’re a little young to be traveling alone.”
I said, “I’m older than I look.”
“How old are you?”
I said, “I’m fifteen.”
The taxi driver said, “I would have guessed eleven.”
I said, “Most people think I look thirteen.”
The taxi driver said, “Hmm. You’re going to miss Halloween.”
I said, “I’m not that into Halloween.” But actually, I LOVE HALLOWEEN. I love dressing up in costumes, and every year my mom and I do a “joint costume.” Last year, for example, my mom and I were Zombie Bride and Groom. And the year before that, we were Hot Dog and Bun. And the year before that, we were the people from Portlandia, which is our favorite show except for The Walking Dead and House of Cards. And the year before that, we were Zombie Bridesmaids. And the year before that, we were an iPhone and an iPad. And the year before that, we were Willy Wonka and the Golden Ticket. And the year before that, we were a waffle and a pat of butter. And I don’t want to tell you any more costumes because I’m almost crying as I type this already. Anyway, with everything that has been happening, I totally forgot it was Halloween and I guess Mom had, too. Do they have Halloween in Indonesia?
“They still have Halloween where I’m going,” I said to the taxi driver. “I am going to South Florida to see my father.”
“Lucky you,” he said. “Weather’s a lot nicer there.”
I said, “I like the weather in Maine.”
“Even in winter?”
I said, “It’s so pretty in winter. Everything is so bright it hurts your eyes. The air is so crisp, your throat feels like straws of ice. My mom . . . My mom’s an event planner, and she says the winter weddings always have the best pictures.”
“You’re a Maine girl is what you are,” he said.
I’m at the airport now. I got through security, no problem. My forgery worked just fine.