The Notorious R(uth) B(arakat) G(rimaldi)

Chapter 8: Learning a Few Things

The next day, Ruthie studiously ignored Elliott during English, though he was sitting right next to her. It looked like their teacher was going leave them seated as they were, which meant she and Elliott were going to be in the back corner, next to the door, at least for the first quarter.

She could tell that he was trying to make eye contact with her, but she kept her eyes resolutely forward when she wasn't looking at her notebook or laptop. As a girl, she had long since mastered the art of avoiding boys who wanted her attention.

When the bell rang, she went to the front to talk to Ms. West, ostensibly to ask her about an assignment, and when she returned to her desk, he was gone.

She left the class quickly, not wanting to be late to second period.

Posters were already going up around the school for the Fall Harvest dance, and seeing them made Ruthie sad on two fronts.

As a freshman and a sophomore, she'd had her choice of escorts as boys tried to outdo themselves for the honor of escorting Ruthie to the dance. Widely acknowledged to be the prettiest girl in school, she'd had young men falling all over themselves, trying to think of creative ways to ask her, hoping she'd say yes. It had been no end of fun, and she'd accumulated quite the cache of candy and flowers. This year would've been the first year she attended with a bona fide boyfriend, an actual date, with no shilly-shallying about who it would be.

In addition, the dance was being put on by the Student Council, which Ruthie had been part of for the past two years. She had really loved being part of student government, helping run the extra-curricular events, putting together the yearbook, and of course, the dances.

Her parents had told her over the summer in no uncertain terms, however, that she could choose to do drama, or Student Council, but not both, as the time commitment was just too big.

Ms. Yarmouth, the Student Council teacher, had been devastated, and had even written to her dads, but they had stood firm. As indulgent as they were, they could be strict when they needed to.

"Ruthie, we're sorry, but school comes first," Pop had said as he sat on her bed. "We know how much of yourself you put into your clubs, you know? And there aren't enough hours in the day. Am I right?"

"Yeah, you are, I know," Ruthie had said with a nod.

"There were weeks at a time when you didn't come home before ten o'clock at night, you know?" Dad had added. He was sitting on the other side of her bed. His brown eyes had been filled with sympathy as he patted her leg. "Junior and senior years are only going to be busier with SATs, ACTs, achievement tests, college apps--you can't get all this done and do drama and do Student council too, right?"

"Not to mention swim team in the spring?" Pop put in.

Ruthie didn't tell them that many of those nights had been spent with Brett. She just nodded her agreement.

Ruthie hurried past another poster for the dance and noticed in passing that the word "harvest" had been misspelled, though someone had gone back over and managed to wedge the letter "r" into the poster before they put it up.

Such a mistake would never have been allowed in her day.

She shook her head and opened the door to her French class, unfortunately, just after the bell rang.

"Nice of you to join us, Mademoiselle Grimaldi," Madame Schwartz said, looking pointedly up at the clock. "Not a good way to begin the year, is it?"

"No, Madame," Ruthie answered, trying not to roll her eyes.

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Ruthie managed to keep things civil with Elliott in Drama over the next couple of weeks. They found a passage from Lolita that they thought would suit them both, and got the passage okayed by Ms. Piper.