Read Online Ruby on the Outside by Nora Raleigh Baskin - Free Book Online Page A

cracking, breaking, booming shattering—the men’s voices, and the bright lights shining under my bedroom door. The sound of things falling, drawers opening. I could hear it. I could hear walkie-talkies and shouting, footsteps. Voices that weren’t my mother’s. And weren’t Nick’s.
    I froze. Every sound shot through my body, sinking me deeper and deeper into my covers. I was alone.
    I was alone.
    Then my whole room lit up when my bedroom door flew open.
    â€œIt’s okay, sweetheart.” A woman’s voice. “It’s okay.” The woman policeman handed me the teddy bear and nothing was okay. Ever again.

    Then everything is pretty much a big bank of fog, until I remember living with Matoo here in the condos in Mt. Kisco, and I had no idea how either me or my stuff got there. It’s like there’s a big chunk of time that just disappeared. I suppose for a while we were all lost and then slowly, slowly it just started to be home. I didn’t ask any questions but I was vaguely aware that being here had something to do with being near my mother so we could visit her easily—so when she came home we were ready.
    Soon.
    And when “soon” never happened, the past fell away, along with all those meetings, and phone calls, lawyers and plea bargains, court dates, babysitters, more meetings, more phone calls, another trial date. A new lawyer. Another trial.
    Sentencing.
    Twenty to twenty-five years.
    Then I started school and I had to figure out my new teachers, new kids, where the bathrooms were, who to sit with on the bus, who not to sit with. I had to learn spelling and geography.
    I learned to be quiet and listen, not get into trouble if at all possible so I can report to my mother every week—all good things—nothing bad. And my worlds, though a mere five miles apart, divide like the continental shift we learn about in social studies, hopefully never to meet again.
    Inside and outside.
    Real and unreal trade places. And then they trade back again.
    Somewhere during that time Aunt Barbara becomes Matoo.
    Now it’s just my house, where I live; my bed, my dresser, my books, but not much from my old life, except that teddy bear.

Chapter Fourteen
    Matoo doesn’t make homemade anything, but you’d think from the way Margalit goes on, that there were no better chocolate chip cookies than the ones that we are having for dessert.
    â€œOh wow, these are so good. Can I have another one?”
    Matoo looks kind of happily astounded as she passes the box across the table. “Of course, sweetie. But they’re just Entenmann’s.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. But they are so good. My mother never lets me have store-bought. I mean, not that she doesn’t let me, she just never buys them. These are amazing, but don’t tell her I said that.”
    We all laugh. I guess you never know what you should be grateful for.
    Matoo asks Margalit a lot of questions, which is something I never do because when you ask people questions that leaves you open to their questions about you. But I see that Matoo’s technique is to ask so many questions the other person doesn’t have a chance to ask you anything. Besides, she’s really good at it and she remembers everything a person tells her, which is probably why she’s so good at her job at the doctor’s office. Everyone likes her because she remembers their names and anything they tell her.
    Pretty clever, I must say.
    And so far it’s working. We know all about Margalit’s mom and dad, what they do for a living. What kind of car they drive. Where her mom learned to cook. What kind of art the grandfather does. But I notice Margalit stays away from mentioning anything about her brother.
    I understand.
    I haven’t said much at all until I suddenly make one of my infamously dumb statements when Margalit tells us where she lived before she moved here to Mt. Kisco. “Why have I