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

Chapter 27: Show Time

"Okay, class, the readings are tonight, and I know you're all a little excited, but we need to settle down, please."

Ms. Piper's entreaty fell on mostly deaf ears, because the students were higher than kites over the show. The kids from drama club were trying to act like this was no big thing, while the newbies weren't bothering to hide their excitement. Taken as a group, they were all very loud, very tightly wound teens.

Amelia and Brett made a point of ignoring each other since the events of a few weeks before; miraculously, word about Amelia's terrible solution to her terrible problem hadn't gotten out, and it seemed that the only people who knew about it were Ruthie, Gordon, Brett, and Amelia herself.

Ruthie had seen enough of Brett and Pam's dialogue to know that it was going to be terrible; hammy and melodramatic, they'd chosen to perform one of the climactic scenes from Twilight. Ruthie didn't know which one, as she'd never read the books, but she knew smarm when she heard it.

"If all goes well, tonight's donations should go a long way toward subsidizing our trip to New York in the spring," Ms. Piper continued, "so lets do a good job, shall we? I'm asking for ten dollar donations per person, so make it worth it to them, okay?"

Ruthie and Elliott smiled at each other. She was still wearing the boot, but this wouldn't matter for them, as Elliott was the one who'd be moving around.

Ruthie had for the most part gotten used to Brett and his staring. It was actually an old football trick. He'd stare down his opponent and wreck his concentration. Knowing that there was no brain behind the eyes made it pretty powerless as far as Ruthie was concerned.

Elliott, however, had never gotten over his antagonism toward the larger boy and his friends.

"You know, I never did ask you where you learned your moves," Ruthie asked Elliott as they walked home in the damp and cloudy afternoon. Brett and his friends had just roared by in his truck, country music blasting. They'd all had catcalls and rude gestures for the two of them, which Ruthie couldn't have cared less about, but which had made Elliott go silent and sullen.

"Moves?"

"Yeah, you know, in the parking lot that night, you did some pretty groovy stuff," Ruthie went on, trying to distract him from the gang in the truck.

"Oh," Elliott finally answered after the truck turned a corner and disappeared from view. "Mostly from combat training acting class, or whatever you call it over here. I did some plays where I had to know how to fight, and the best way to look as though you can is to actually know how. I just didn't pull my punches like I would've, that's all."

He turned to her. "I hope you feel safe with me?" he asked.

"What?"

"I hope you feel safe with me," he repeated. "If there hadn't been so many of them, and if they hadn't surprised us, I would've handled the situation just fine, yeah?"

"Elliott, first of all, you're not my designated protector, okay?" Ruthie responded, turning and continuing to walk. "It's not your job to keep me safe. Second of all, no one could've helped us if they'd been with us, no one, do you understand?"

Elliott looked at her uncertainly and nodded.

"This isn't The Middle Ages, and I'm not some maiden fair that you have to save."

They'd arrived at Ruthie's house, and she put her hand on his shoulder. "You need to let that go, okay? Brett has already moved on, he's only messing with us for entertainment. I think he's slept with three or four girls since he broke up with me."

She hadn't told Elliott about Amelia, because she'd asked Ruthie not to. They would never be the friends they'd been, but she could respect her wishes.