“What’s with all the red anyway?” Chloe added in, as if she had to be a part of the fun too.
“I love red. It’s mine and Daddy’s favorite.”
“What a freak. Truly. Hey, Joey, come here,” Clarissa said to the boy nearby. “Look at this. I think Ruby’s painting with period blood. Pass it on.”
Joey laughed, and I felt my face burn.
“It’s not, it’s just paint,” I screamed. Ignoring the paint on my hands, I reached up to scratch my neck.
“Oh, I think it’s blood,” he said, laughing as he ran over to tell another boy.
Stupid kids. Stupid kids. Stupid kids. The room was swirling, so loud. I needed to leave. I pounded my fist, anger surging within and ready to explode. Why were they so loud? The girls laughed in the circle around me, and it was like a pounding in my brain. It screeched through my head, over and over, and I couldn’t hear anything else. Couldn’t even hear myself think. I was losing myself to them. I covered my ears.
“Stop, stop, stop,” I shouted, squeezing my eyes shut and wanting to disappear. I wished I had a wand, a real spell. I wished I could make myself disappear. The girls were chanting something in my ear, quietly. I shoved past them to run out of the room.
I heard Clarissa shriek as she tumbled to the ground, but I didn’t stop to ask any more questions. I ran straight out of the room, down the hall, away, away, away. I wanted to go home.
The principal found me on the playground, tucked away behind the building in my favorite corner with the purple flowers. I picked them once to bring home. The kids laughed and said they were nothing but weeds, but I loved them.
I sat, gently banging my head against the brick of the school building. Thud. Thud. Thud. Smash away the craziness. Smash away the noise.
Quiet.
Peace.
Just like I liked it.
And then the principal ruined it all wish his graying moustache and his weird haircut, his choking voice. He yelled at me and ruined the quiet. He made me go back inside.
Daddy got called in.
They told him I shoved a girl, that the kids said I was saying weird things about the picture I was painting.
“No, no, no,” I said, my hands trembling. I didn’t want to tell them the truth. I didn’t want to talk to them. I wanted to go home.
“Come on, Ruby,” Daddy had said after some angry exchanges between him and the principal. I got to go home. Daddy didn’t look angry, just worried.
I felt bad for making him upset, but I was glad I got to leave that awful place with those terrible kids. Daddy didn’t talk to me about it on the way home. He let me sit in quiet. He knew me like that. He made me dinner, and he talked about his day and about the weather while I pushed the food in circles on my plate. After a long time, when the pounding in my brain had mostly quieted, he finally spoke.
“Ruby, we have to talk about today. What happened?” he asked calmly, his voice deep and reassuring.
I looked up at him, staring at the dimples on his face. I liked those dimples. Fun little marks on his face. I wished I had dimples.
“The kids were mean. I didn’t push her. I didn’t. I know the rules.” I wanted someone to believe me. I hadn’t meant to hurt her. I hadn’t.
“I know. I believe you. Were they giving you a hard time, Ruby?”
“No. I wasn’t having a hard time. Painting is easy.”
“Okay, Ruby,” he said, and I noticed he was tapping his hands on the table.
“I didn’t use period blood. I didn’t,” I said matter-of-factly.
Daddy sighed.
“Ruby, kids are going to say mean things. That’s how they are. You’re going to just have to learn to toughen up, okay? To not let it get to you.”
“Okay, Daddy,” I said before excusing myself to go on the porch, to sit outside and to just be in the quiet.
It was a bad day today. But Daddy made it better.
There’s something, though, I didn’t tell Daddy, Diary. Something I didn’t tell anyone. But I’ll tell you.
When the girls were talking about Daddy, it made me really mad. I don’t know why. I just don’t like that they talked about him like they know him. I don’t like it at all. And when Clarissa wouldn’t leave me be, when her voice was grating in my head, when she was shrieking in my ear, something bubbled inside of me. It burned in my chest, in my belly, everywhere.
I didn’t push her on purpose, not really. I didn’t mean to hurt her.
But here’s the thing. I think maybe I wanted to. I think maybe I wanted to shove her down on the table and add her red to my painting.
Is that what Daddy does in the garage? Are those ladies he brings there Clarissas? Are they grating on his nerves? I haven’t really thought about that. Who they are. Who the women of his garage are. I wish I could ask him. But Daddy gets nervous when I’m even near the garage. I don’t know why. He’s beautiful in there.
I just think that like me and the incident at school, Daddy doesn’t want to talk about it. I can’t talk about it. I need to do that for Daddy, just like he does for me.
Maybe Daddy and I aren’t so different. Maybe that’s why he understands me so well. I like thinking that. It makes me feel okay with being so alone at school—because I’m not really alone. I have him. Daddy and Ruby. That’s all we need in the world.
Stay Safe,
Ruby
March 20, 2012
6:57 p.m.
Dear Diary,
It was a big night last night.
Daddy returned to the garage. I thought maybe he was done with it all. How long has it been? A couple of years? I think I was eight last time. At least the last time I saw him in there.
But he’s not done. I found out last night. I heard him pulling out in his truck an hour or so after I fell asleep. I always hear when the truck starts. He doesn’t realize how sensitive to noise I am. I hear every sound, every creak. It’s hard to sleep most nights because of it. It feels like when the truck pulls out, it’s inside my brain.
Last night, I was glad. My heart was racing. I couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed watching him in there, seeing his work. The memories were still strong but experiencing the thrill in real time is just so much better. I climbed out of bed, tucked my feet into my boots, and crept down the stairs. I waved hello to Bubbles III—Daddy let me get a new fish and then another new fish when they kept dying. I won Bubbles I at a carnival game. I hate the carnival in town, but last summer, it was good because I won Bubbles. Daddy said I had a good arm. I was proud he noticed.
I walked out back, the grass crunching beneath my feet. It was a bit chilly out, spring not quite breaking through yet. I blew out and smiled as my breath floated upward in a smoky, hazy cloud. It looked like I was smoking, like how Daddy does sometimes when he gets a cigar and puffs it out on the front porch.
I found my old spot, just as it was the last time. The same hole. But things were different. I had to crouch lower now. I was bigger. It wasn’t as comfortable. I wished I had a better view. I realized I wouldn’t be able to see as much as I’d like from here. Too bad I couldn’t make a better spot. Or be in the garage with Daddy.
But I know better than to ask.
A couple of days ago, the sun was shining on Sunday. I was playing in the driveway, hopscotch I’d drawn. I skipped the pebble too hard. It hit the garage. I went to get it, crouching down by the door and then slowly standing up. I peeked in the window.