The Sugar Mountain Snow Ball (13 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Atkinson

BOOK: The Sugar Mountain Snow Ball
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“Anyway, once I got the hang of the rope tow and we made it to the top, I was shocked to see how long and steep the bunny slope really is, because standing at the bottom and looking up the hill, it hardly looked like a bump. Page told me to follow her over to the far side by marching on my skis and pounding the poles. Most of the younger kids were attached to adults skiing down behind them with these harnesses, like they were little ponies, but Page said I shouldn't have to wear one at my age, as long as I listened to her instructions.”

I had to stop and take a deep breath, because this is where it got hard to talk about.

“That's when I should have asked Page more questions, but something about her made me so nervous, Eleanor. It wasn't the fact that she didn't even know
how
to smile or say something nice, but it was the way she was rushing, like she didn't have time for me—like she had crammed unimportant me between other really important things, even though I had paid all that money we worked so hard for! So instead of getting everything straight and asking her to repeat stuff, I waited for her to give me orders, like I was in the army.”

“Sounds like my cello teacher.”

“Really?”

I had forgotten all about my tea and bent over to take a sip.

“She's dreadful,” said Eleanor. “But tell me, what happened next?”

At that point I had a very difficult time keeping my voice steady. I didn't want to start crying again, so I took a couple more sips of tea and swallowed hard.

“Well, I waited sideways at the top of the hill while Page explained that she would give me a
little
push on my back to get me going, and then follow right down next to me, saying either ‘french fries' or ‘pizza,' and that I was supposed to copy her and make the right shapes when she said it all, the same way we had done it at the bottom of the hill.”

I paused to take a big gulp of tea, followed by a deeper breath. But my voice kept getting higher and my words shakier.

“So I did that, only I pushed down on the poles the same time she gave me a HUGE shove,
not
a little push like she said, and before I knew it I was flying downhill on french-fry skis! I could hear Page's voice yelling ‘PIZZA! PIZZA!,' but I couldn't push my toes together to make a pizza wedge, so that meant I couldn't stop my skis, and the whole time my arms were making circles and my poles were flinging out to my sides and I thought I would fall backwards, but somehow I kept going and going straight, all the way to the bottom—
and right before I got there
I saw this big group of Outer girls strolling by in their fancy jackets, holding their fancy skis and snowboards,
and I screamed
so they could jump out of the way, but they just stared up at me and screamed back and I plowed right into them and we all landed in a giant HEAP!!”

Eleanor quietly repeated, “A
heap?

“BUT THAT'S NOT THE WORST PART!” I said, as I exploded into sobs again.

Now Eleanor's whole face puckered up like she had swallowed a lemon.

“It isn't?”

“OH, ELEANOR!! Those Outer girls were so mean. They started calling me
swear
words I can't even
say,
and even after they stood up, they kept yelling down at me, because I couldn't stand up with my skis tangled between my legs. One of them called me
lardo,
even though all my clothes are wicked loose now, and another Outer told me to get my
townie
butt off her boot. But worst of all, when I focused and stared up at them, I realized they weren't all girls. One of them was
JB Knox!
And he was bent over, moaning in pain, practically crying!”

Eleanor gasped. “Oh, Ruby.”

“And stupid, rude Page didn't even care that
I
was flat on the ground, in pain. She kept apologizing to the horrible
Outers
and said nothing to me and put her arm around JB, asking him if he was okay, and left me there
without asking if I was okay
, and then she took JB back to the lodge or somewhere and the Outer girls said more wicked mean stuff, like I ruined his basketball career FOREVER!!
Plus . . .

I couldn't say it. Eleanor reached up and patted my back.

“Plus what
,
Ruby?”


Plus . . .
I never got to drink hot chocolate by the stone fireplace like my mom and pop used to do when they were in high school
.”

And with that, I erupted into full blubbering. A volcano of humiliating lava-spewing tears sprayed all over the family room.

I knew this had to have been the most horrendous story Eleanor had ever heard, because it was the worst thing that could possibly happen to anyone.

“Oh, Ruby,” she said, “I was afraid—
really afraid
—that something like this might happen. Maybe some dreams just aren't meant to come true.”

And then she spread a blanket across my lap and whispered, “I'll boil some more water.”

20

Eleanor was right. I had reached too high. And now my dream had become a nightmare.

I had no reason to go to the Snow Ball, or anywhere else, ever again.

I had never imagined in a million years that people could be so cruel over an accident. Most of all, I was shocked to find out that the Outers went to all that trouble to appear like perfect, happy people when the truth was, they were the opposite. They were bullies.

Eleanor had been right about them too. I hadn't allowed myself to believe anything bad about those Outers as they trotted around Paris in their phony, beautiful-people herd.

And JB! I was even more hurt by
his
horribleness, and not only because I had
had
a humongous crush on him, but because he had been so nice to me before, and then ignored me like I'd ruined his entire life on purpose. I mean, wouldn't you think a kid who plays sports all the time gets injured once in a while?

Then, to make matters even worse, I was grounded for two weeks.

Since I was having a major meltdown at Eleanor's house, I forgot all about calling Mim to tell her where I was—although I never did get an invite for dinner, since Mr. B was running late at work. But I did stay over there, crying my eyes out and drinking gobs of tea, until about six o'clock, and then I'd stumbled home in the dark, which I'm technically not allowed to do—walk alone in the dark, I mean—so that was the real reason I got grounded.

Plus, when Mim saw my face with the gash that I didn't even know was that bad, because Eleanor had acted like it was nothing (probably to keep me from feeling worse), she freaked out! I exploded into tears again and told her everything about spending my profits on the skiing lesson only to crash into people on my first time down the hill. Except I didn't tell her the part about having a crush on JB, or the part about wanting to be friends with the Outers (neither of which was even a teensy bit true anymore), and especially not the part about forging her signature—so she couldn't figure out why I went to all that trouble without telling her.

I tried to explain that I just wanted to learn how to ski before the Snow Ball so I could fit in, but she told me Pop could have taught me all about skiing, and it wouldn't have cost me a dime.

Except for the fact that he's never around anymore.

And then, on top of everything, I found out that Eleanor got into tons of trouble too.

I phoned her the next morning to let her know about my punishment, but she told me she could only talk a few minutes, and she sounded wicked upset.

It turned out her thaththa had been late getting home the night before because he'd had some errands to do in town, and he had discovered that Eleanor and I had this major company. We never thought he would ever find out about it, because Mr. B only goes to the grocery store and the hardware store, and not the types of shops where we sell our E & R line.

But on Saturday after work, he went into the Treasure Chest for the first time to buy a wedding gift for one of his gas station mechanics, and he recognized some of the little knitted items he had seen Eleanor working on in the evenings. He asked the owner, Mrs. Wilder, where she got them, and she enthusiastically told him all about these two smart and talented girls who ran their own business and how their creations were selling like “hotcakes,” and that they would be self-made millionaires any day now. That was super nice of Mrs. Wilder to say, but a huge exaggeration, which, as Eleanor said, only fueled Mr. B's angry flame.

Mr. B bought one of the new cell-phone covers, then showed it to Eleanor when he arrived home, insisting she explain why she had gone behind his back and gotten a job. Which, of course, took Eleanor completely by surprise; she hadn't prepared anything to say in case this happened.

She ended up confessing, though she tried to explain to her father that she didn't think of it as a job, but as a fun way of making money to save up for the Deluxe Electronic Pluckarama 1080 Sew-Good & Embroidery Machine, so she could someday create her own fashion line.

“But how do you run a business?” her thaththa asked. “Do your customers write checks? Who cashes them?”

“Oh no,” I said to Eleanor on the phone. “Mim.”

“I had to tell him, Ruby. I couldn't lie anymore.”

So
I
had to confess to Mim that Eleanor's father hadn't exactly been aware of E & R Dream Designs, which made her even angrier.

And on top of everything, Eleanor's mother was flying home that night, so Eleanor was extra worried about getting in a hundred times more trouble for everything.

IT WAS ALL SO DEPRESSING.

Somehow I managed to drag myself to school on Monday morning, since I knew I couldn't hide forever. It was hard enough to go, feeling physically and emotionally sore from the bunny slope accident, but then I nearly fainted when I spotted JB with his right arm in a sling. He was getting more attention in the hallways than he had after making the half-court shot last winter that won the county basketball tournament.

And just to make sure the whole world knew about my klutziness, I found out some of those Outer girls had posted pictures of me—tangled up in my skis—all over the Internet. For once I was grateful I didn't have my own phone or laptop.

As you can imagine, the only thing I had been looking forward to on this horrible Monday was seeing Eleanor
in person
to complain about all our fiascos together at school during lunch, since we always seemed to figure out the answer to everything together. But I was shocked to find out from Anton in the cafeteria line that she was absent!

I couldn't remember the last time Eleanor had missed school, but I really hoped her absence had nothing to do with her amma going bonkers from Eleanor's winter of freedom and getting a job—I mean, what if she punished Eleanor and then decided to schedule even more lessons and activities?

I had never felt so completely alone.

After hearing the horrible news from Anton and paying the cafeteria lady, I stared down at my tray of food and thought about throwing it in the trash and escaping out the door. I had no idea where I would go . . . just anywhere but here.

“So, did you cut your face skiing?” Anton asked.

I glanced up at him and scowled.

That was it. I couldn't take it anymore, especially not from Anton Orlov.

“You know, it looks kinda cool,” he said, as he followed me over to the garbage cans. “Like you're, you know,
tough
. Like no one better mess with you.”

I paused before the recycling bins and turned toward him.

He was grinning, but not in a mean way, and that's when I remembered how he'd helped Lewis.

“Are you making fun of me,” I mumbled, “or do you mean that?”

He took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Come on, Ruby. Come on over and sit with us.”

The empty seat where Eleanor always sat next to me at lunch made me feel worse than anything that had happened in the last couple of days, as if she had disappeared and was never coming back. But I was grateful to Anton for somewhere to sit when it felt
like the rest of the world was against me. I guess I had been wrong about him—and a lot of other things—all along.

Somehow I survived the rest of that miserable Monday at school without running away, which probably would have landed me with detentions for the rest of my life from Mr. Tankhorn.

Later, as I slogged through the cold, sad, snowy streets toward Mrs. Petite's house to pick up the twins—feeling
sooooo
sorry for myself—I turned onto Bon Hiver Lane and suddenly noticed that the rich kid was in front of his mansion, looking through his binoculars.

I hadn't seen him out in his yard for more than a month, but I felt so depressed that I didn't even have the energy to stop and call him over and ask questions, which he wouldn't have answered anyway. So I continued on past the black metal gates.

But then he called over to me: “Ruby LaRue!”

I couldn't help turning around, even though I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

“Hey,” I moaned, and gave a tiny wave.

He ran toward me in his green jacket, which instantly reminded me of his spying down at Dream Central.

“Where've
you
been?” I snapped, feeling angry all over again.

He stopped short and his binoculars bounced against his jacket.

“What?”

“I haven't seen you in a while. Where've you been hiding?”

“Florida,” he said, like he wasn't sure, staring down at his feet.


Florida?
For how long?”

“Since our arrival at two thirty-six p.m. on January eighth. We stayed at our house in Naples.”

I glanced over at the mansion behind him and asked, “How many houses do you own?”

“I don't own any, but my parents have several.”

I had never known anyone who owned two houses, let alone “several,” other than my uncle George, who has a regular house and then a cabin on a brook, so he can get away and go fishing, and also a hook-up camper for his pickup truck, but I'm not sure if that counts.

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