Ruby Jane

When I saw Lisa again on Tuesday, she was pale and quiet. "Are you okay?" I asked her during Calculus.

"I feel off," she said. "Though it might be nothing."

But then, after music theory, she was still looking peaked. "I don't think I can do lunch," she said. "My head is killing me."

"I have ibuprofen in my room," I offered. "Do you want a couple?"

She sighed. "You know, that would be great."

Lisa climbed the Vanderberg stairs at half her usual speed. She sat on my bed, and I brought her a cup of water and two pills. "You look exhausted," I said as she swallowed them. "If you put your head down for a few minutes, I promise not to jump you."

Her smile was weak. "I shouldn't be here, Ruby Jane. There's a 24-hour bug going around. I wouldn't want you to catch it. Christ…" Her eyes closed. Even as I watched, she grew paler. "Fuck a duck," she said. Then she stood up and strode purposely out of the room. I heard the bathroom door open and shut. She didn't return right away, although I heard the plumbing groan as she flushed the toilet a couple of times.

Eventually, she walked slowly back into the room, her face a gray color.

"You poor thing," I said. "Is there anything I can get you?"

She shook her head. "I have to go."

"Okay," I said. "But you don't look like somebody who's ready to dash out of here. Give yourself a minute."

She nodded, miserable. "I'll just rest for a sec." She slumped onto my bed, her head at the wrong end, her knees tucked up as if someone had punched her in the gut. She was the picture of misery.

"I'll be out here if you need anything," I said, taking my laptop into the common room.

Our suite was quiet that afternoon. So when Lisa began to snore, I could hear her. I lost myself in some research for my history paper until her watch began to beep. But unlike every other time, she didn't shut it off. I got up and tiptoed to the threshold of the bedroom. She lay there asleep, her strong chest rising and falling while the timer complained.

There was no way that girl was going to make it to work — not in that state. I just couldn't make myself wake her. And as I stood there hesitating, the alarm gave up too, silencing itself.

I went back to my homework. But thirty minutes later there was a groan from the bedroom. I heard a rustle, and then Lisa sprinted through the common room and into the bathroom again. Once more came the probable sounds of abdominal dismay, the flushing and washing and spitting. When she came back in, I opened my mouth to ask her if there was anything I could do. But that's when she looked at her watch. "Shit!" She cursed. She stumbled back into my bedroom and fumbled with her backpack.

"Lisa," I started. "You can't go to work like that." I stood in the doorway watching her saddle up. "Your hands are shaking."

"No choice," she said. She rose to her feet unsteadily.

When she came to the door, I was in her way. Putting my hands on her chest, I made her look me in the eye. "Stop," I said. "Give yourself a break."

"Let me go, Ruby Jane." The cold sound in her voice was nothing I'd heard before. "I'm so very late, and it's not okay. I have to run. Literally."

Chastened, I moved out of the way. "Can I drop you anywhere at least? My car is just across Chapel." I didn't expect her to take me up on it. But I had to offer, if it was so effing crucial that she get to work. I'm the one who let her alarm go off without waking her.

She surprised me. "Could you? I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

I grabbed my keys off the desk and plucked my coat off the chair. "Let's go."

--

"This is your car?" Lisa asked.

"Yes," I said quietly.

"You drive a brand new Porsche Cayenne with a turbo engine? In Harkness?"

"Sure," I said, my voice testy. "But only if you tell me where to drive it."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Make a right. Please."

The tone she took made me want to cry. She's just grumpy because she's sick, I coached myself. And stressed out about work.

There was no way for me to explain to Lisa that the car was just another farce in my life. I'd overheard my parents' lawyer advising them to put assets in my name. In New Hampshire, I'd driven an aging Toyota Camry. But when my mother told me which car they'd picked out for me to keep at school, I wasn't exactly shocked. The Porsche was a way for them to hide something like seventy thousand dollars from the families who would eventually sue my father in civil court.

I could either explain this to Lisa, or merely let her think I was ridiculously wealthy and out of touch.

Is it all that surprising that I chose the latter?

Lisa's face was still a ghostly color as she directed me toward a distant corner of town. We were in a residential area, where old wooden houses sat close together. Some of their porches sagged under the weight of time, while others had been spiffed up within the last century.

"Just let me out here, thanks," Lisa said stiffly.

"Lis, there's nothing here," I complained. "Except these houses. And that school."

Oh.

The school.

Lisa put her hand on the door, but I accelerated. I followed the U-shaped driveway of the elementary school, remembering the little girl with the pink bike helmet. When I came to a stop in front of the glass doors, Lisa opened the passenger door and got out without a word. At that moment, one of the doors opened up and the little girl with the chestnut ponytail came flying out.

Lisa shut the car door behind her, but I could still hear their voices. "I'm sorry I'm late!" she said, her arms wide. The little girl ran to her, and I saw her body sway from the impact as she flew into her midriff. Lisa steadied herself.

"Everyone else was gone!" the little girl said. "Mrs. Rose waited with me."

"I'm so sorry, Lulu. I'm not feeling well, and I fell asleep."

"Oh NO!" she said. "You got it too?"

"Yeah, but don't worry."

"You can throw up on my shoe, and then we'll be even."

"If I throw up on both your shoes, do I win?"

She giggled, and tugged on her hand. "I'll get my bike."

When she skipped toward the bike rack, Lisa turned around. She mouthed thank you into the window of her car, and gave me a little wave. Slowly, she walked toward the little girl, who was putting on a bike helmet. I took my foot off the brake and idled the SUV around the school's drive circle. At the stop sign, I braked again, and put on my blinker. Even though there was nobody coming, I waited.

A minute later, the little girl rode up to the corner and stopped. One foot on the ground, she turned back.

I watched in the rear view mirror as Lisa walked toward the corner, her gait painfully slow. She forced a smile onto her face, but her misery was evident. When finally she approached, I put my car in park. Then I pressed the button which automatically raised the tailgate door of my overpriced car. I gave the horn one minuscule beep.

She stopped on the sidewalk and looked at me. Then she limped over to the car. I lowered the passenger side window. "Lisa, put the bike in the back."

"I'm okay."

"You're being a dumbass."

She leaned on the door of my car, not because she wanted to but because she needed the rest. "I don't take help from people," she said. "Even you, Ruby Jane. But I have good reasons."

"I'm sure they're excellent," I hissed. "But unless you want her to watch you pass out on the sidewalk, get in the damned car."

Her eyes slid closed from exhaustion. When they opened again, she turned to the little girl. She'd been watching us the entire time. "Come here, Lucy," she said. "My friend is going to give us a ride."

"Let me get it," I said, hefting the bike. Lisa was done arguing. She opened the back door, and after the little girl climbed in, Lisa slid in next to her.

"I'm so sorry, Lulu," she said as I got back behind the wheel. "You must have been freaking out."

"It's okay," she said. "Mrs. Rose told me some knock-knock jokes." Her voice sounded little, reminding me of a Muppet. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Home," Lisa said.

"Which is…?" I asked.

"Beaumont House," she said stiffly.

"Seriously?" I swiveled around to face her.

She gave me one sad nod and then looked out the window.

No freaking way. She was keeping a child in the dormitory? That broke about ten different rules. I stole another glance into the rear view mirror.

She had leaned back, her head against the headrest, her eyes screwed shut. "Homework?" She inquired.

"Just a math sheet. And spelling words for Friday."

"That's it?" she squirmed uncomfortably against the leather.

"Yup!"

"God is merciful. How was the day?"

"Gregory pinched me, but then she got caught! And Mrs. Rose made him write 'I will not pinch' on the board. And it was library day, and I got an American Girl book out. A new one."

"Awesome," Lisa said.

The drive was only a few minutes long, but that was long enough to break my heart into pieces listening to the two of them.

"Did you like the bananas on your peanut butter sandwich?" Lisa asked the little girl.

"Yep. What are we going to call that one?"

"The… monkey nutter?"

"Hmm…" she considered. "Maybe. I'll have to think about it."

Lisa wouldn't look me in the eye when I got the bike out of the back.

"Hope you feel better," I said.

"Thanks," she said stiffly.

"Let me know, okay?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she walked slowly toward the courtyard gate, where the little girl waited, still wearing her pink bike helmet.

That night, I was supposed to be working through a problem set for statistics. But my head was swirling with questions about what I'd seen.

Lulu had to be Lisa's sister, or maybe her niece. They looked so much alike. From the looks I'd snuck at her, she would be about eight or nine years old.

Lisa seemed unlikely that she'd conceived a child at age twelve.

My phone buzzed at ten-thirty, and I was relieved to see that the text was from Lisa. You still up? she asked.

I dialed her. "Hi," I said carefully when she answered.

"Hi," she whispered. No wonder her voice was always hushed when I spoke to her at night. Because she wasn't alone in the room.

"She's your little sister," I guessed.

"Yes, she is."

She didn't volunteer anything more, but I wasn't ready to let it drop. "You don't drive a forklift at night, do you? You're home with her."

"You have it all figured out." Her voice was so soft that I almost couldn't hear. "Well, go ahead. Tell me I'm a prick for lying to you."

My eyes were instantly hot. "I'm not going to say that. You told me you had good reasons, and now I know it's true. You're afraid of getting caught by the college."

"Ruby Jane, It's not just the college. My life is a house of cards. It's her school, and most of all child protective services. I don't have custody."

My heart contracted. "Where are your parents?"

"Our dad died three years ago. And Mom is indisposed."

"Indisposed to take care of her daughter?"

"Indisposed to stop manufacturing crystal meth on her dining table."

"Oh my God," I said.

"Exactly." Her voice in my ear was warm and lovely, in spite of our depressing conversation.

"So you took her in."

"No other choice," she said. "It was either me or child protective services. And I'm not sending her away."

"She'd go to a foster home?"

"Right. And some of them are… I shouldn't really talk about this right now."

I blew out a breath. "Is your stomach feeling any better?"

"I'll live. Haven't thrown up for about four hours."

"Oh, Lisa. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

"You know…" she probably just wanted me to drop it. But I couldn't help myself. "I wouldn't have told a soul."

She sighed into the phone. "I know that, Ruby Jane. That's not why I didn't tell you. With you, I just don't want to be that person. That person with all the issues."

That made me suck in a breath. Because I'd done exactly the same thing — made exactly the same choice. She didn't know a thing about me, because I didn't want to be that girl.

"Are you still there?"

"Yes," I said.

"Does that make sense?"

"It makes more sense than you'll ever know," I said.

I didn't know if I'd see Lisa in class on Thursday, but she came in right on time, flopping into the seat next to mine. Wordlessly, I put my hand on her lap, palm up. And she took it, stroking my thumb with her.

"You take her to school in the morning?" I asked quietly.

She nodded. "She starts at eight thirty, which is why I gave myself nine o'clock classes every day of the week."

"She's so cute," I said, squeezing her hand.

"Yeah, she is." She squeezed back. "What are you up to this weekend?"

"I'm writing my psychology paper. And probably watching some fascinating reruns of Dancing with the Stars. You?"

"I'm doing a bunch of chemistry homework. And attending a fascinating puppet show at the public library."

As always, it was a struggle to tear my eyes away from her beautiful face when the professor began class at the front of the room.

"I'm sorry to keep asking questions," I said later, picking at my salad in the student center.

"Fire away," she sighed. "Like I said, I didn't want to be that person. But I am that person. And it's a relief not to lie to you anymore." She took a bite of her burrito.

I love you, I thought, watching her, happy to see her eating again. Out loud I said "so, what brought about The Most Pointless Night Ever?"

She laughed. "That is an excellent question. Okay, so Lucy was invited to a birthday party, and she was so excited. And I got her over to the other little girl's house right on time, with a wrapped gift — just like you're supposed to."

She flashed me one of her killer smiles, and my heart melted a little more, just thinking about this person wrapping up a nine-year-old's party gift.

"…But when I got there, the mom says, 'where's her sleeping bag?'" Lisa put a hand to her forehead. "It was supposed to be a sleepover. And I'm totally on the spot, because I didn't read the invitation carefully. And the mom is like 'never mind, she can use one of ours, she can borrow pajamas.' So I looked like an ass. But then all of a sudden I was alone for the night."

I shook my head, as if I could erase the whole debacle. "Could we bribe that mom into giving another slumber party?"

"Believe me, I had the same thought." Her green eyes flashed at me.

"How do you keep your grades up?" I asked.

"That's actually the easy part. Because I'm home every night in a silent room from eight o'clock on. I have a clip-on light I use on my books, or I work on my computer."

"What's the hard part?"

She shrugged. "Hiding her. If I didn't have to hide her, nothing would be all that difficult. And the money. Feeding her isn't expensive, but when the spring term ends, I'll have to find us some place to live."

"There must be people in your entryway who have noticed that she's around all the time."

"Oh, there are," she said, swigging back some milk. "The guy across the fire door from me is the only one who knows the whole truth. He's propped the door open a couple times when I've had to run out at night, babysitting for me."

"That's handy," I said. Fire doors were a strange feature of the Harkness dorms. They were unlocked, wooden doors connecting one room to another, so that every room had two means of egress.

"The guys on my floor — there's three of them — they've seen her in the bathroom too many times not to notice. I tell them 'she's visiting,' but they're probably not stupid. Luckily, nobody seems to care."

"It's not like she's throwing loud parties."

Her smile was rueful. "I actually make her be quiet. Even if she's singing some happy little third grade tune, I tell her to keep it down. It's like she's in prison."

I felt a pit in my stomach. "How long can you keep this up, Lisa?"

From the exhaustion on her face, I knew I'd asked the toughest question. "As long as I need to. If I lived off campus, I wouldn't be afraid to be caught all the time. But I have a full ride at Harkness, and that pays for the dorm, not an apartment."

"And there's no such thing as a part-time student here."

She shook her head. "No such thing. So, I already did the math on transferring to UConn. But it would cost so much more. You might not know this, but nobody does financial aid like Harkness. And they give me the full package, because they get to check a box next to my name under 'local success story.' Seriously, they care about that. The city keeps track of how many locals they let in."

I could only shake my head. "You amaze me. You have so much more on your shoulders than most people."

"Don't be too impressed. If the wrong administrator wanders by my dorm room while she's singing along with Frozen, I could be out on the street."

I put my hand on her wrist. "What can I do to help you?"

She winced. "Nothing, Ruby Jane. It's my mess to deal with." She reached across the table, catching my hand in her larger one. "Just be with me, okay?"

"That's easy." I squeezed her hand.