Ruby Starr Series, Book 1 Read online

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  Copyright © 2017 by Deborah Lytton

  Cover and internal design © 2017 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Jeanine Murch

  Cover and internal illustrations by Jeanine Murch

  Internal images © Shutterstock

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  www.sourcebooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Lytton, Deborah A., author.

  Title: Ruby Starr / Deborah Lytton.

  Description: Naperville : Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, [2017] | Series: Ruby Starr ; 1 | Summary: When a new fifth-grader, Charlotte, wants to turn the lunchtime book club, The Unicorns, into a drama club, Ruby has to use her imagination and love of reading to save the day.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016050823 | (alk. paper)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Books and reading--Fiction. | Clubs--Fiction. | Friendship--Fiction. | Schools--Fiction. | Imagination--Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.L9959 Rub 2017 | DDC [Fic]--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016050823

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  For Ava and Caroline with love

  Chapter 1

  It All Begins with Books

  Once upon a time opens every fairy tale so it’s the way I’m starting my own story. Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Ruby Starr. (That’s me.) Here are some things you should know:

  1. I love—absolutely, completely love—books (every kind of book, especially if it involves animals).

  2. Pickles are my favorite food. (They go with everything. Even chocolate ice cream! Hmm, this is making me hungry…)

  3. I say a lot of things without thinking (which sometimes gets me in trouble with a lowercase t).

  4. The book that made me love books was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. (Probably everyone says that, right?)

  5. I have three besties—Siri, Jessica, and Daisy.

  6. Sometimes I imagine I am in the pages of a book. My thoughts sort of fly up into bubble-gum bubbles full of ideas.

  7. I believe in happy endings.

  Today I’m not imagining things when my teacher, Mrs. Sablinsky, announces that we will be welcoming a new student to Room 15. (This is the way lots of books begin—with someone new coming to town.) I sit up a little taller in my seat and glance across the room at my best friend, Siri Mundy. Siri and I have been best friends since we were in kindergarten. Kindergarten to fifth grade is a lifetime. So we have been friends for something like forever. Siri raises her eyebrows and grins back at me. She just got braces, and they make her smile look even happier than usual.

  I know what Siri is thinking. ’Cause I’m thinking the same thing. Someone new to join our Fearsome Foursome: Siri, Jessica, Daisy, and yours truly. (There’s nothing really fearsome about us at all. I just like to say that because it sounds sort of superheroish.) Pink is our signature color. We use pink markers whenever possible, wear pink clips in our hair, and have pink laces in our sneakers. Even Siri’s braces are pink. Confession time: I like green better than pink, but I got outvoted. So I wear the pink, but in my heart, I’m all about the green.

  I watch the door all morning. It’s not that easy to write in cursive with my eyes looking up instead of down at my paper. But when a new character is about to step into the pages of a story, you don’t want to miss it. I want to be the very first person in Room 15 to see who it is. Finally, the star-spangly door opens. She looks like she is already one of our group. She wears a pink headband in her smooth black hair, a floral skirt with a white tank top, and pink sneakers. She also looks sort of nervous, if you ask me. I think of all the books I’ve read about new kids, like Harry Potter, coming into a story. They always turn out to be the heroes. I’m not sure I like that.

  “Class, this is Charlotte Thomas. Charlotte has just moved here from Northern California. I want everyone to welcome her and help her get settled in.” Charlotte stands there quietly. But her eyes dart around the room. Look at me, look at me! I scream silently. Only her eyes skip right over me to land on Siri. I glance over at my best friend. Siri is smiling at Charlotte with her sparkly braces. Charlotte suddenly smiles back. And I can’t believe my eyes. She has the same pink braces as Siri! Something in my stomach flips over right then. I know, somehow, that there is trouble ahead (maybe even trouble with a capital T).

  So when Mrs. Sablinsky says, “Who would like to show Charlotte around and sit with her at lunch today?” I keep my eyes on Siri and raise my hand as fast as she raises hers. Only I must be faster, because Mrs. Sablinsky picks me. “Thank you, Ruby. I’m counting on you to make Charlotte’s first day really special.”

  When Mrs. Sablinsky starts going over the schedule for the rest of the day, I begin imagining things.

  I see myself walking Charlotte down a pink carpet. The other students stand along the carpet, taking photos of us like we are famous. The carpet leads all the way around school. Even Principal Snyder is waving to us. I wave back like a princess on parade. Only I don’t see my glass slipper fall off. And I trip over it and tumble down the stairs, landing with a splash in a river of pickles.

  “Ruby, did you have a question?” Mrs. Sablinsky’s voice cuts into my imaginary world and drops me right back into the present. I want to say no, but my hand is waving back and forth in the air as though I have a very important question to ask. I don’t want to embarrass myself, so I make one up, really fast. “What time is it in Paris?”

  OK, it’s not my best question. It’s not even my sort-of-best question. It’s lame. So I deserve the snickers and giggles. Even I want to giggle.

  “Not amusing, Ruby.” Mrs. Sablinsky does not have a sense of humor. I bet if a line of dancing goats came into the room right now wearing ballet tutus, she wouldn’t even crack a smile. If you ask me, a sense of humor should be a requirement for teaching degrees. If I made the test
for teachers, they would have to show that they can laugh at jokes and play charades. I’m positively one hundred percent certain that Mrs. Sablinsky hasn’t ever played charades. (Charades is one of my top three favorite games:

  1. Chess

  2. Monopoly

  3. Charades)

  The class is still laughing at me. I look over at Siri and shrug. I pretend it’s no big deal, but truthfully, I hate when people laugh at me. I love laughing. And I love jokes too. I just don’t want to be one.

  I keep my eyes on my work after that. I don’t allow my mind to wander once. Then I hear the bell ring. Everyone around me scrambles out of their seats and runs for the door. I stand slowly and walk over to Charlotte. I don’t want to seem too anxious. But Siri beats me there.

  “Hi, I’m Siri,” she says with a big smile.

  “I’m Charlotte,” the new girl returns with her matching grin.

  “Hi, Charlotte, my name’s Ruby, and I’ll be your tour guide today,” I say to remind them both that Mrs. Sablinsky picked me.

  “Thanks for showing me around,” Charlotte tells me as she stands up. She is exactly my height. Siri is a teeny bit shorter than both of us.

  “You can eat lunch with us,” Siri offers.

  I was just going to say that. So instead, I show Charlotte where we keep our backpacks on the rack just inside the classroom. She hangs her purple-checked backpack on the hook at the end. I pull my lunch bag from the front pocket of my leopard backpack.

  Siri grabs her lunch as well. She gets fun things like tamales and sushi. My lunches are not so inventive. I usually get a turkey or cheese sandwich with an apple. Charlotte holds a small bag of animal crackers and some grapes in her hand. I smile when Siri catches my eye. I know we are thinking the same thing again. Sometimes our group shares lunch. And no one wants to share their something delicious with someone who has something not-so-delicious. Not-so-delicious foods include:

  1. Broccoli

  2. Bell peppers

  3. Cauliflower

  Not that I am anti-vegetable. I like vegetables just fine. After all, pickles are vegetables. I just don’t like the gross ones.

  I push open the door, and the sun makes me squint for a moment. Even in October, Southern California sun stays summer hot. “The fourth- and fifth-grade classes are all up here,” I tell Charlotte, gesturing to the stairs that separate our classrooms from the rest of the campus. “And we have lunch together. We have to eat at the tables until the aide blows her whistle. Woo-hoo.” I demonstrate the sound so she’ll know it when she hears it. “Then we can hang out until the bell rings.” I think I’m a pretty good guide. I’m like a professional.

  “It was kind of the same at my old school,” Charlotte says. “Except there weren’t any stairs.”

  “We can’t cross back over these red lines until our teachers come to get us,” I tell her, pointing to the wide red lines that circle the blacktop and lunch areas. I don’t want to forget any important details. I am trying my absolute best.

  “But if you forget your water bottle or something, you can ask one of the yard aides, and they will let you get it,” Siri adds. I shoot her a look. This is my tour. I’m supposed to be giving Charlotte all the important information. Siri doesn’t notice though. She is so gaga over Charlotte. It’s like Charlotte is magical or something. (Sometimes this happens at the beginning of the book. The new kid puts everyone under a spell.)

  “Did you have a best friend at your old school?” Siri asks.

  Charlotte nods, and her big, blue eyes look round and sad. She doesn’t say anything right away. I roll my eyes at Siri, who shrugs back at me.

  “Rayna. She’s going to visit me soon.”

  “That’s great,” I respond, trying to figure out a way to change the subject. But just then, Jessica and Daisy call out to us.

  “We saved you seats!” Jessica and Daisy are squeezed onto the lunch benches at our usual table. At the other end sits a group of boys. We stay away from them, since they like to throw their food rather than eat it. And sometimes one of them will fake vomit on the table, just to watch everyone run away superfast. I take the end spot, farthest away from the boys and next to Daisy. I am not in the mood to be fake vomited on today. (Or any day to be exact. After all, who actually wants to be the star of a vomit scene?)

  “You can sit here,” I tell Charlotte. Siri is left to smush in between Jessica and one of the boys. She rolls her eyes at me. I mouth a sorry back to her. Siri shrugs. She shrugs a lot. It’s her signature move.

  “Did you ask her yet?” Daisy asks in between bites of her sandwich.

  I try to signal her with my eyes. I open them real wide, telling her without words to wait. I’m not sure about Charlotte yet. Asking someone to join our group is a really big thing and not something I want to do so fast. I want to get to know her first. (In stories, it’s always a mistake to trust the new kid too quickly, and I’m not going to fall into this trap.) Daisy doesn’t seem to understand my eye language, or if she does, she decides to ignore me.

  “About the Unicorns?”

  It’s too late. The word is already out there. Unicorns. Once someone hears a magic word like that, they never forget it.

  “What are the Unicorns?” Charlotte asks. She offers Jessica one of her animal crackers. Jessica chooses a gorilla and makes him dance in the air before biting off his head.

  “It’s our book club,” Siri answers helpfully. “Ruby started it.”

  Now all eyes are on me. I shrug, downplaying. “My mom’s in a book club so I started the Unicorns. We meet once a week, at lunch.”

  “Right now we’re reading Black Beauty,” adds Jessica.

  “Why Unicorns?” asks Charlotte. She holds the bag of animal crackers up to me.

  I take one. Camel. Then I answer Charlotte. “Because they’re magical creatures and you have to have an imagination to believe in them. Our book club is all about using your imagination.” My voice sounds loud to me, and I can tell that I am frowning. I can feel it in my cheeks. I pop the camel into my mouth and bite down hard.

  I imagine myself sitting at the lunch table with a book open in front of me. Suddenly, a unicorn climbs right out of the pages. She stands next to me, waiting for me to touch her pink horn so she can grant me one wish. I wish that I were the new girl in the story. Then I offer the unicorn a pretzel stick.

  Someone nudges me in the side. I look up in surprise, expecting to see a unicorn. But instead, I see Daisy. Siri has just squeezed into the spot between Jessica and Daisy. I glance over at the boys. The food fight has already begun. They are pelting one another with grapes.

  “When is your next meeting?” Charlotte asks Siri, who doesn’t look at me once before answering.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Charlotte says. “Can I be a Unicorn too?”

  This is my moment. My moment to speak up. It’s not like I am the leader of the Unicorns or anything, but it was my idea and all. So I guess that makes me kind of the main Unicorn. But before I can think of something brilliant to say, Siri jumps in.

  “Welcome to the Unicorns,” she tells Charlotte. Charlotte grins at me. I smile back, but it feels kind of fake. I don’t even show my teeth. My real smile is with teeth.

  I twist the stem of my apple around, wishing I could stop time and rewind it. I want a redo on the last few minutes of my life. Now, I can think of a lot of things I could have said like, “We’re in the middle of a book right now, so you can sit in tomorrow and observe.”

  My mom has taken me to lots of classes where I have observed the first time to see if I like them. I did that with art class, tennis, and even karate. Observing is like testing, so it’s not a for-sure kind of thing. Or I could have said, “We take new members at the beginning of each month” or even, “We have a waiting list, so if you want to put your name down, we’ll let you kn
ow when we have an opening.”

  But it’s too late for all that. Because Siri is already pulling out her copy of Black Beauty and lending it to Charlotte. And Jessica is telling her to make sure to bring an extra-special lunch. Daisy even remembers to tell Charlotte to wear pink.

  And just like that, we have a new member in the Unicorn Book Club. Whether I like it or not. (Fearsome Fivesome doesn’t have a ring to it. Not at all.) But I don’t say anything. Chapter 1 is written. Now all I can do is turn the page to Chapter 2.

  Chapter 2

  Book Club Tuesday

  I wake up with a stomachache. Usually Book Club Tuesday is my favorite day of the week. But not today. Today, I don’t want to go.

  “Mom! I’m not feeling well!” I call from my bed.

  “I’ll be right there,” Mom answers.

  I pull the covers up over my head, hoping for a fever. Maybe if I stay in here long enough, she’ll forget about me.

  My sheets turn into a cave made of deep-blue stone glittering with rubies. I’m hiding here to escape a giant who wants me to stay in his castle and cook his dinners of cauliflower and salmon, match up all the socks in his sock drawer, and feed his pet dragon, Huey. (Huey is kind of cute, but he eats live cockroaches.) I hear the giant calling my name, but I don’t answer.

  Suddenly, the sheets are pulled back. I expect to see the giant. But instead I see my mom. She doesn’t smell like cauliflower or salmon. She smells all fresh and clean like a spring day. She’s wearing a gray shirt and black pants, which means workday. I can always tell where Mom will be each day, at work or at home, because of her clothes. Her work clothes are serious black and gray officey-looking shirts and skirts. Her home clothes are jeans with printed, flowy shirts, all bright and cheery. I personally prefer the home clothes to the work clothes, because I’m more about color than black and white.

  “What’s wrong, Ruby?” Mom asks as her hand touches my forehead. “You don’t feel warm to me.”

  “It’s my stomach,” I moan. I’m not acting—not really. It does hurt a lot. There are three things I can’t stand: