Ruby Reinvented by Ronni Arno

she’s waiting for me to say something. I don’t know what to say because I really don’t know, so I just nod and look sad. I’m not even faking it, either. Thinking of poor little Connor all alone really does make me sad.
    â€œSo he’s not close with his uncle?”
    â€œNo.” Summer shakes her head. “They hardly see each other. Connor’s uncle sends him to camp during summer break, and hardly ever visits him at school.”
    I want to ask Summer more about Connor, but she changes the subject before I get the chance.
    â€œEnough shirts to make the dress?” Summer admires the T-shirt pile.
    â€œYep, that’s plenty.”
    â€œWhere do you want them?” Summer piles the T-shirts in her arms. I hold open a paper bag, and she dumps them all in.
    â€œYou can put them next to my desk, and I’ll start on the dress this week.”
    â€œReally? You sure you don’t mind?” Summer’s bouncing on her toes.
    â€œNot at all. It’ll be fun!”
    â€œThanks! You’re a great friend, Bea.”
    Hearing her call me a great friend makes me smile so hard my mouth hurts. But there’s a tiny pull in my stomach, reminding me that a great friend wouldn’t lie about her parents being dead.
    â€œI’m going to hop in the shower.” Summer grabs her shower gear. My heart races, until I look at the clock on my desk: 7:58. Perfect timing.
    â€œOkay.” I sit down and uncover my iPad. “I’m just going to check my e-mail.”
    Summer closes the bedroom door, and my parents ring in about five seconds later. My shoulders relax. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.
    Mom and Dad appear in their little boxes on my screen, and I instantly launch into my day. Based on last night’s shower, I have about fifteen minutes, and I want to be sure I tell them everything so they won’t get suspicious. I fill them in on Greek democracy, the anatomy of a plant, and the fact that I will never, ever understand how to read music. I tell them about Clara’s Café and lobster rolls and Summer’s family. We talk about the weather and Mom’s taping and Dad’s practice. The only thing I don’t bring up is Parents’ Weekend.
    â€œI’m so glad things are going well, hon,” Mom says.
    Just as I’m about to tell them that I have to get ready forbed, the door to our room swings open. Before I can think to cover the iPad, I turn around to find Cassandra standing in our doorway—staring right at me. A million scenarios shoot through my mind in three seconds flat. I could turn the iPad off, but my parents would freak out. I could turn the screen around, but that would look suspicious. Instead I press the mute button and place the iPad on my lap, silently praying that she can’t see the screen from where she’s standing. My parents will probably wonder why they’re staring at the ceiling, and why I’m not answering them, but right now this is my best possible option.
    Cassandra’s eyes move past me. She’s trying to look at the screen, which I’m covering with my arms.
    â€œWhatcha doing?” Cassandra asks. She’s still standing in the doorway.
    â€œHomework.”
    â€œWhere’s Summer?” Cassandra looks around the room.
    â€œShe’s in the shower.”
    Cassandra squints. “Do you remember what the Spanish homework was?”
    â€œWe didn’t have any.”
    â€œYou sure?” Her eyes shoot to my lap, so I lean over the screen even more.
    â€œPositive.”
    â€œDo you know if Summer talked to Connor about me?”
    The back of my neck feels sticky with sweat. I need toget back to my parents. They’ve got to be wondering what the heck is going on. Besides, Summer will be out of the shower any minute now, and I have to say good night to my parents before that.
    â€œI don’t know. Want to swing by the bathroom and ask