Ruby

9

Every day after school, I would meet her in the same spot, under the bleachers. Our conversations always stayed short, but conversations enough to have me smiling throughout the school day. We rode the bus together, everyday to school. We'd always meet ten minutes before the bus came, we always had the best conversations without the annoying crowds on the bus. The same seat everyday. We sat side by side on the last seat on the right. She always got the window seat, to admire the small view of the sky. She'd draw small pictures or words on the condensed windows.

For lunch, I'd find her sitting under the furthest side of the bleachers. Always, she had a book in her lap, a smile playing on her lips, and glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose before a delicate finger reaches to push them back to their original position. She would lift her head a give a swift, "Hey."

When I would take my seat beside her and hand her a bottle of water, watching as the grounds before us would clutter with masses of eager students. Girls would huddle in groups, guys tossed around footballs, and couples sat side by side. A lot of our time spent together was sitting in a comfortable silence, glancing at one another from time to time. It was peaceful, the calm before a storm.

I never stretched to ask many personal question, thinking she would bring up anything she wanted to tell me about. Did she have any friendships like this, where we bonded and understood each other over a mutual silence? I know I never had anything like it before, but I enjoyed it still as long as it was with her.

Every afternoon, for English, I'd walk into the classroom and listen through every lesson, not exactly listening to the words bouncing off the walls from our teacher, but the small things instead. I'd tilt my head just slightly to the side and listen to the way she would sigh every time during certain aspects within different poems and how she would close her eyes in annoyance during Mr. B's speech on the wide variety of poets he had come across throughout his time claiming that, "a poet is born, not made."

After every I would stand and wait right outside the door of her last class of the day, waiting for her to exit before walking side by side through the large swarms of students, shuffling towards the wide double doors of the library, then after aiming for the release from the school building and heading for the bleachers.

No one ever payed any mind to us. They never looked or spoke to us. But at the same time she never settled her wandering gaze on them for a more than a second. She didn't seem pay any attention to the other students, but she knew all about them.

She was constantly thinking, wondering. She was always thinking of something. A busy mind that never rested. She would always over think. But what her mind was always on, I will never have the opportunity to know. But the way she would always tilt her head slightly in a questioning way and chewed on her bottom lip when she was deep in her own thoughts would forever hold me breathless.

More and more questions would rise the longer I knew her. But all were never meant to be answered by her.

We had the same routine going on for days and slowly days turned into weeks, one worded responses turned into sentences and we were beginning to actually be able to call our exchanges, conversations.

Within the time of two weeks, I learned she adored fantasy and fiction novels more than any other kind. She always became enveloped in her books, the stories took over her dreams and thoughts. Books allowed her, just like me, to escape from her reality. She had said the novel world felt more like home than her own house. She listened to any kind of music. She would listen to country, rock, pop, R&B, etc. It was music all the same with a good message that interested her. She didn't care how the artist portrayed their music, as long as the lyrics had a good meaning. It was one her favorite things to do, analyze the lyrics to a song. We listened to endless, different tracks from different artists together every day, never the same songs unless I asked her to play one again. There was one song that I made sure to have her play everyday when we would lay down in the grass, sharing headphones. A song called "Screen" by a band called Twenty One Pilots. I loved it. Maybe it was the lyrics, the beat, the artist's voice, or maybe it was everything. The song sparked a feeling inside of me that I enjoyed so much. The song became like Ruby. I had to hear it, listen to it with her in order to get through my day fine.

I learned that after her father died several years ago, her mother could barely take care of Ruby, let alone herself, so her and her mother moved here to live with her grandpa. It was her grandfather's first time meeting Ruby in person and he said she reminded him so much of her grandmother who had just passed away. Every day, before her grandmother died, he would bring an orange Asiatic Lily to her. Because Ruby reminded him so much of her grandmother, he continued the tradition with her.

Her favorite color was grey and when I asked her why, she looked up to the thin layer of murky, grey clouds hanging above us, her chapped lips opened slightly, "The sky is grey. Grey, but it still holds the most beauty in nature. Not everything that is beautiful is vibrant. Not every beautiful thing shines bright. What is hidden behind those clouds is a clear, blue sky and a bright, shining sun. Sometimes the most dullest, dark colors are simply there to protect what is truly beautiful. The shade is there to only allow the ones that deserve to see what is behind and see the truest beauty."

She would like to say she is a pretty good artist but deep down she knows she doesn't have the amount of patience and time to put all of the effort required to go into projects. She said it takes too much thought that she doesn't want to give.

She wants to travel the world one day, find the place she feels she truly belongs in. She wants to know what it would be like to live in a big city like New York or a small town where everyone knows each other's names and the cars they drive. On the weekends she likes to go up to the old abandoned beach and sit down along the path of cobble stones that scatter across the face of the cliff, staring across the deep blue waves, watching as the seagulls dived and danced along the water. The cold salty breeze that came with the beach gave her joy as it hit her skin. For hours she would sit up there writing every thought that entered her mind as the waves crashed in front of her, till the sun began to fade and the tide would near.

She sleeps the best to the pitter patter of rain against the roof, listening to sounds created by the storm outside of her bedroom window.

One day as we walked outside of the school building, raindrops began to hit against the ground and as everyone else pulled up their hoods and opened their umbrellas, she stopped and slowly tilted her head back, closing her eyes. I watched her smile grow into a deeper happiness and her eyes close. Her long, dark eyelashes laying perfectly against her porcelain skin. After a few moments I would give her a questioning look, and she'd just smile, her eyes meeting mine, "Some feel the rain, others just get wet."

I never enjoyed the rain, I dreaded it. All it ever did was make my clothes wet against my skin sending and uncomfortable feeling throughout my body. But after Ruby, I could barely sleep without it. I can't sleep without the thumping sound on my roof. It's as if she is right there with me when it rains, experiencing it with me. I love the feeling of it gliding onto my skin and how gently it falls, floating along and down the outline of my cheeks and nose.

Ruby changed me. Being and spending time with that girl made me appreciate the small things. The sounds and colors of nature never go unnoticed by me anymore. She changed the way I see others around me, how they don't think twice about the day's grey skies, the droplets of rain against windows, and the vibrancy of Asiatic Lilies. I think of how everything and everyone holds beauty. I've changed so much over the course of a few months. Ruby had a great affect on me.