looked up from her comic to see the face of the kid with the over-styled hair.
She had been sitting in Sunny’s, a diner she rarely frequented, mainly because it wasn’t in her patch, but also because it didn’t do pancakes. Today she had wanted to take a little time to herself and here at Sunny’s she wasn’t likely to encounter anyone she knew, so she was surprised when she saw the kid called Beetle.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Can I buy you a drink or something?’ he asked.
‘I got one already thanks,’ said Ruby.
‘Can I get you another?’
‘Thanks but no thanks, I’m on a strict three milkshakes a day programme.’
‘You watching your figure?’
Ruby looked at him like he had lost a few marbles somewhere. ‘Why would I watch my figure?’
Beetle shrugged awkwardly. ‘No reason.’
‘I’m just trying to keep a balanced food intake, you know, dietary requirements? Minerals, vitamins, that kinda stuff.’
He nodded again like he had no idea what she was talking about.
‘So what’s on your mind?’ asked Ruby.
‘How. . . do you. . . mean?’ stammered Beetle.
‘You seem like you want to tell me something,’ said Ruby.
‘Oh, uh, yeah, that’s right, I got your book, the one you left outside the store.’
Ruby gave him a blank look until he pulled a scruffy paperback out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the table. The title was written to look like it was scrawled in blood, No Time to Scream.
‘Oh, yeah, thanks man,’ said Ruby. ‘I forgot about that. I thought I’d never find out what happened to poor old Philippo. Did he make it back to camp or did he get –’ she drew her hand across her throat – ‘axed to smithereens by the maniac?’
‘He got away.’
‘Oh, thanks for telling me buster,’ said Ruby tossing the book onto the next table.
‘Ah sorry, I thought you, like, wanted to know, I only read the last few pages.’
‘Ah, doesn’t matter, there’s plenty more thrillers out there.’
The boy smiled. ‘You sure have a gory taste in books.’
‘So you like books about bunnies?’ asked Ruby.
‘No! Course not, but I’m not a girl.’
‘Which century were you born bozo?’ said Ruby giving him a straight-up look.
‘I just meant most of the girls I have ever met read about fashion and stuff.’
‘Sounds like you need to shake up your social life.’ Something remembered passed through her head. ‘Hey, what’s the time anyway?’ Where was her watch?
‘I don’t know, like, six pm?’ shrugged Beetle.
Ruby stood up. ‘I gotta split,’ she said, then paused before adding, ‘If you don’t mind my mentioning it, you seem a little antiquated in your thinking, Beetle. Maybe you should read a few books, broaden your horizons, you know what I’m saying? Look, see you around.’
His eyes followed her as she left and he hoped she might turn around, perhaps even wave.
But she didn’t.
It was as Clancy Crew was making his way home that he felt a solid punch to the solar plexus.
He felt queasy and found himself propped up against the nearest wall, taking in gulps of breath. He hadn’t actually been struck, in fact, there was no one on the sidewalk. The wind had picked up and it was not the sort of evening for lingering.
The light was fading and the stores and restaurants were brightly lit now, the windows illuminated so each held a little glowing scene in the darkness. It was in one of these windows that he saw something that sent him reeling, something he really couldn’t begin to explain. And now he felt completely alone.
RUBY BEGAN WENDING HER WAY BACK TO CEDARWOOD DRIVE. At first she let the board take her at the speed it wanted to go, and then she considered how she might rack up some extra goody points if she made it home super-early – her mom wanted to yack on about Ada Borland. Sabina wanted to plan what Ruby would wear for the portrait and explain what Ruby should say when she met Ada and impress on Ruby how polite she should be and how lucky Ruby was to have such a great artist give her this unique opportunity and blah, blah, blah.
Ruby manoeuvred herself into the centre of the traffic and fixed on a suitable car to grab onto. The driver was a little reckless and he ran more than a couple of red lights but that suited Ruby fine. Besides, she could use the thrill.
Clancy felt dizzy. His mouth was dry and his heart pumping fast; he had to stop for a minute.
Take it easy Clance.
He needed a soda or something. Just to give him the energy to get home.
The driver of the car Ruby was hanging from the back of hit his brakes without warning, and she was sent careering into oncoming traffic. Her attempt to make a turn on Midtown Avenue failed completely, there was just no way through, and so she went sailing on down the Fountain Park Slopes, gathering speed as she travelled.
Yikes.
She flew through a red light and caused a minor collision, swerved her way through a gaggle of elderly theatre-goers as they ventured over the pedestrian crossing, and would have made it all in one piece had it not been for the police car making a left. At this point she was separated from her transport, sailed over the cop car, her skateboard freewheeling under, and girl and board were destined never to reunite.
Ruby landed in a sprawling heap on the tarmac of Fountain Park Slopes and the skateboard continued on its journey.
Remarkably, apart from the severely grazed arm, an eye that was swelling by the second, and a horrible-looking knee poking through jeans that were ripped to shreds, Ruby Redfort was actually in good shape, as in: not dead.
The cops stood over her like she was an alien who had fallen from her spaceship.
‘Hi officer,’ said Ruby.
‘Why is this kid not dead?’ said one of the officers to the other.
‘Beats me,’ said his partner. ‘Must have a guardian angel watching over her.’
‘Something like that,’ said Ruby, looking down at her still-breathing self. Boy am I lucky,
