Next-Door Nemesis(44)

“Ruby Jane Peterson!” my mom shouts from somewhere inside the house. “I don’t care how old you are, you know that language is not acceptable here. You’re much too beautiful to have such an ugly mouth.”

Ruby pulls her lips between her teeth and her big blue eyes practically double in size.

“Sorry, Mrs. Carter!” she shouts before lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. “Oh my god! Is that what it feels like to be my assistant? I haven’t been scolded since high school!”

“Welcome to my life.” Faced with Ruby’s effortless, blinding beauty, I sit up in my bed, acutely aware of the current rat’s nest sitting atop my head. “Kimberly Carter lives to correct people. A few weeks ago, she told the checkout person at Costco that it wasn’t professional to gossip about their co-workers in front of customers.”

It was highly upsetting. Low-stakes gossip that doesn’t affect me whatsoever is my favorite kind of gossip. Plus, my mom stopped them before I found out why Hannah kept calling out—consequence-free—and shucking their responsibilities onto poor Nick.

“Nobody has more opinions than a midwestern mom.”

This is absolutely true. “No lies detected.”

I watch as Ruby uses the pointed toe of her very cute flat to fling dirty laundry out of her way as she clears a path to my bed. The desire to pull the covers over my head and hide is almost too great to beat back, but Ruby is my person. If anyone can see me like this, it’s her.

“Soooo . . .” She sits on the edge of the bed and gestures to my disaster of a bedroom. “This is . . . this is something.”

“It’s not my finest moment.” Embarrassment and shame prevent me from looking her in the eyes.

“We all have low points and I can’t wait to figure this out. But”—she throws the comforter off my bed and points to my bedroom door—“before that can happen, I’m going to need you to take a shower and wash your hair. Your poor curls look like they’ve taken the brunt of this meltdown and I wouldn’t be a real friend if I didn’t intervene.”

If there’s a day I hate most, it’s wash day. My head already aches from regret; detangling the disaster I’ve allowed to take place will only make it worse.

“How about I—” I make the mistake of thinking I can negotiate with Ruby.

“How about you get in the shower, wash your hair, and then come tell me what the hell happened that has you ignoring my calls and your mom calling me?”

Oh fuck.

I knew my parents were worried, but I didn’t think they were call-Ruby-level concerned.

“My mom called you?”

“Oh, only about twenty times a day for the last three days.” She stands up, her almost-six-foot frame towering over me, and yanks me out of bed. She pushes me in the direction of my door. “Go. Shower. Then we’ll talk.”

“Sheesh. Bossy.” I try to go for annoyed, but fail miserably. I’m so grateful to see her that I could cry. Which, because I can’t fucking control it, I do.

“Hey.” Ruby turns me around when she hears my voice break. “It’s okay. This is all going to be okay. I promise.”

She pulls me into her arms and we hug each other tight until my tears begin to subside.

“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got a fantastic set of boobies?” I ask as I step out of her embrace. My tears have left wet marks right on her chest. “They’re perfect crying pillows.”

“Wow. Nobody has ever said anything nicer! Thank you!” Her dazzling, pageant-winning smile lights up my room. “Now, I love you, but you really do stink. Please go get in the shower.”

I don’t make her ask again. My body still aches and I’m doubtful that I’ll ever run out of tears, but for a moment, standing in front of my best friend, the clouds began to lift. It’s not much, but it’s enough. As I strip off my dirty sweats—which should probably be burned at this point—and step beneath the warm stream of the shower, I hold tight to the small inkling of hope and let some of my fears wash off me and down the drain.



* * *



? ? ?

When I walk into my room after my shower, my mom and Ruby are standing in it like the last week never happened. New sheets are on my bed, the floor is spotless, and an outfit consisting of something other than sweats is folded on top of my dresser.

“Oh, there’s my beautiful girl!” Mom crosses the room with a look filled with so much relief, I almost choke on my guilt. “Ruby and I straightened up your room a bit so you can get ready and go out to lunch. Also, Ashleigh has been stopping by every day. It might be nice if you girls invite her along. If the amount of baked goods she’s brought over is any indication, she’s very worried about you.”

“Yes, I like Ashleigh, she can come.” Ruby doesn’t even ask my opinion. “Is her last name Whittington? I think we did some pageants together back in the day.”

“Ashleigh Barnes now,” I correct her. “But yeah, that was her maiden name.”

Of course Ashleigh was a pageant girl. I should’ve known from her perfect posture and unnerving ability to keep a smile on her face.

“She was always really sweet, and not in a phony way. How funny that she ended up being your neighbor.”