"I heard that guy Elliott? He's related to those guys. You know, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor?" These words were spoken by a tall, skinny girl, who looked around with wide eyes to see the effect of what she said before she took a swig from an open can of soda.
Ruthie was sitting at one of the many picnic tables placed strategically under the shade structure at the high school, talking to her friends about the new, angry boy who had appeared in their midst, while she ate her lunch.
"Those guys?" Ruthie repeated as the other kids around the table laughed.
Apparently, the doubt in her voice was audible to everyone, including the girl who'd spoken.
Ruthie continued to eat her lunch, which today was lasagne with basil from their garden. Her lunches were legendary.
"Maybe not," the tall girl amended, slowly moving her soda can in a circle. "Maybe it wasn't Windsor. Maybe it was Cambridge?"
"Pepsi," Ruthie chastised, "The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge are the son and daughter-in law of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. They're all related."
"Oh." Pepsi bit her lip and considered her options before taking another drink from her can. "Maybe it was, uh, Sussex, then?"
Ruthie snarfed her water and shook her head. "That's his other son, Pepsi, Jesus!"
Now Pepsi looked confused. "He has another son named Jesus? Really?"
Ruthie rolled her eyes and leaned back, shaking her head.
A boy with very tidy clothes, who obviously had an addiction to soap and water, put a calming hand on Ruthie's shoulder. "I got this, Ruthie," he told her.
"Okay, Pepi-cita, pay attention," he enunciated, speaking slowly. "Prince Charles and Camilla Parker-Bowles are the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. His oldest son, Prince William, and his wife, Katherine, are the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Prince Charles' second son, Prince Harry, who is Prince William's younger brother, just got married to American actress Meghan Markle, and they are the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, respectively." He paused, before asking, "Got it?"
Pepsi nodded with enthusiasm. "Right, I get it, I get it, Gordon, thanks." She smiled brightly.
"So that old lady, Camille, she's their mom?" she added.
Oh god.
The fourth person at their table, Linda, took another bite of her sandwich and chewed. "This tastes like stewed tire patches."
"How do you know what stewed tire patches tastes like?" Ruthie asked with interest. "And why do you eat that garbage?"
"I have to lose some weight, you guys, I just have to," Linda answered morosely.
"Linda, you do not," Ruthie answered, trying not to sound impatient.
"Please, don't even talk to me about it, Miss I have a perfect figure without even trying," Linda answered, holding her hand up in Ruthie's face.
"Yeah, right," Ruthie answered. "I think if my figure were all that, my boyfriend wouldn't be over there trying to eat my ex-best friend's face off in his truck, would he?"
"Ruth, you know that's not why he broke up with you," Gordon responded, rubbing her shoulder. "Amelia Bedelia's got nothing on you, you know that, right?" His brown eyes were bright with sympathy.
"I don't want to talk about it," Ruthie answered, turning her back more squarely on the parking lot, where she knew Brett and Amelia were making out as they spoke. She'd told her friends the bare bones of why she and Brett had broken up, so she knew they knew what the real issue was.
YOU ARE READING
The Notorious R(uth) B(arakat) G(rimaldi)
Teen FictionRuth doesn't mind being the 15 year-old daughter of her small central California town of Warren's only openly gay couple. Her dads are great. Mostly. She doesn't even mind that they're both lawyers, and that they want her to be a lawyer. It's a nobl...